“Well,” he said, setting his fork down beside an uneaten piece of cake. “That is unfortunate.”

“Unfortunate? That’s all you have to say?” I wasn’t trying to provoke a fight; I was just surprised.

He paused to sip some wine. “What else is there? It sounds like everything’s in place. And clearly you’ve made up your mind if you’ve been planning this behind my back all week.”

“Is that what bothers you?” I asked. “That I didn’t tell you?”

At last, the hint of a smile—but it was a bitter one. “Ah, Eugenie. There are so many things that bother me about this, it’s hard to know where to start. I suppose it was foolish of me to try talking about trust again, eh? We’re as far from that as ever.”

I felt a mix of guilt and anger. “Hey, you’re the one who started it! If you hadn’t tricked me into the Iron Crown—”

He gave a melodramatic sigh. “Not this again. Please. At least find some other grievance to lay at my feet. That crown saved lives, and you know it.”

“You withheld the truth from me.”

“And you’ve withheld this news of your departure from me all week,” he pointed out. “One standard for me and another for you?”

“I’m not a hypocrite,” I said, even though I kind of was. “Not telling you this doesn’t have nearly the impact of the Iron Crown! You just don’t like being left out.”

“Like I just said, there’s a lot more to it than just that,” he said coldly. “Like you thinking obscurity is an adequate substitute for the protection of some of the greatest magic users in this world.”

“Like yourself?” I guessed.

“Of course.” Modesty was never a virtue Dorian really prized. “Do you think I wouldn’t rip the earth up around anyone who tried to lay a hand on you?”

“No, but I don’t think you can always be nearby.”

“I could be,” he countered. Some of his earlier anger eased. “I’ll stay here in your lands permanently. Oh, I’ll have to make the occasional jaunts back to the Oak Land, but far better me traveling than you. Unless, of course, my hair leads to another case of mistaken identity.” He tossed some of that glorious auburn hair over one shoulder to make his point. “Of course, with my rugged and manly features, it seems unlikely that kind of error would occur.”

“It’s not realistic,” I said, not falling prey to his charm. “And really, I do think this other plan is the safest option.”

“Yet I won’t have any idea if you actually are safe. You’ll be lost among humans.”

“You sound like Jasmine.”

He sniffed. “Who knew? It appears she and I finally agree on something.”

Unlike Jasmine, though, no amount of arguing convinced him of the plan’s soundness. He didn’t try to talk me out of it; he just stubbornly refused to endorse it. And, as I continued laying out my now well-worn arguments, I could see that patient mask of his growing thinner and thinner. This decision really did agitate him, though I couldn’t entirely figure out what bothered him the most. At last, he stood up and cut off some point he was making.

“My dear, this is a waste of time for both of us. We’re going to have to agree to disagree, and really, I see no point in my continued presence. It’s time for me to go home.”

“Tonight?” I asked, standing as well.

“Why not?” He reached for a cloak that was draped over a small table. “As I said before, I’m not the one in danger. I’d thought to stay until tomorrow to enjoy more of your company, but it seems that’s futile now.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset,” I said petulantly.

Dorian approached the door. “Who says I am?”

“You,” I said. I would’ve smiled if anything about this was funny. “Everything about you right now. Your face, your tone, your body language. You’re pissed off. I knew you would be. But you can’t really fault any of my reasoning.”

“No, I suppose I can’t,” he agreed. He reached the door and regarded me expectantly.

“It’s better this way,” I said, desperately wanting him to endorse this. “And it’s easier on you.”

He chuckled. “Do you think that matters? Eugenie, what’s ‘easy’ is of no consequence when it comes to you. I would do anything for you—anything at all—if it only meant you’d—” He cut himself off and abruptly turned away, resting his hand on the door’s handle. Yet still he didn’t leave.

A bizarre thought came over me, one that made my heart stop for a moment. All this time, I’d assumed Dorian just found me entertaining in his usual perverse way, that he’d liked my attentions and the prestige of being connected to my children. But I’d figured any romantic attachment had died after the Iron Crown. Now ... now I knew I was wrong.

“Dorian ... are you most upset because ...” The words came out awkwardly as I found the courage to speak them. “Are you upset just because you won’t see me? Because ... you’ll miss me?” It was a pathetic way to phrase it, but we both knew what I meant.

He glanced back at me over his shoulder, a smile on his face but sadness in his eyes. “Eugenie, do you know what I love about you?” I waited expectedly since Dorian used that rhetorical question in nearly every conversation we had, and his answer was always different. His smile grew, as did the sadness. “I love that that is the absolute last conclusion you came to.”

He departed, shutting the door firmly behind him and leaving me feeling like an idiot.

Chapter 7

While it was true that nothing could ever fully match the Otherworld’s convoluted system of travel, Roland came pretty close with the arrangements he made to get me to his mystery safe location. I left the Otherworld through a gate that opened up in Tucson, knowing that I’d likely be observed. A trip there—though clearly unsafe—didn’t raise too much suspicion, if only because my enemies would probably expect me to visit friends and family back there. It was a risk we deemed worthy, in order to cover our larger scheme.

But once I set foot in the human world, the craziness of Roland’s plan fell into place. He’d set it up so that my journey used practically every mode of travel imaginable—car, train, airplane, and even bus. Sometimes it would only be a short distance on one of those means of transportation. Sometimes I wouldn’t even go in the right direction and would simply zigzag to my next waypoint. Varied means of technology made it difficult for gentry to follow me, and the complex system of reservations and directions made it difficult for humans—like Kiyo—to track me. Roland only stayed with me while I was in Tucson, for fear that he might be used as a way to locate me. He also hoped that by returning home and behaving normally, it might create the illusion that I was staying with him. That meant some Otherworldly creature would undoubtedly come calling, but Roland assured me he could handle it and that they’d leave him alone once the truth was discovered.

So, I did my traveling alone, which I didn’t mind so much. There were so many connections to make and so many directions to follow that I had little chance to think about all the problems I’d left behind. Near the end of my second day of travel, I arrived in Memphis. It wasn’t my final destination—but was close. Roland wanted me to stay there overnight and for most of the next day. It was a test to see if I’d been followed. If I had been, it seemed likely someone would make a move quickly. If I hadn’t, then I could freely continue on to the last stop. Roland had given me the number of a shaman who lived in Memphis to call if I needed help, just in case things went bad. Aside from that, I had nothing else to do but wait out the day in a hotel room and hope we’d shaken any supernatural followers.

After so much time in the Otherworld, I’d hoped the return to modern life would distract me. Cable TV and deep-fried food were certainly things I’d been without for a while. Their novelty was short-lived, however. As I lay on my hotel bed, I just kept thinking about that last conversation with Dorian. Since seeking his protection during my pregnancy, I’d regarded him with nothing but suspicion and wariness. I’d been convinced of ulterior motives and had been certain the only reason he had aligned himself with me now was to further his own plots. The realization that he still had feelings for me—and that I had been oblivious to them—was startling. And troubling, though I couldn’t exactly articulate why. I hadn’t really allowed myself to think about him in a romantic way in ages, and now ... despite my best efforts ... I was.

Self-torment aside, my day in Memphis proved remarkably uneventful—which was all part of the plan. It was as close as I was going to get to confirmation that I hadn’t been followed. Around dinnertime of the third day, I boarded a small commuter plane and braced myself for the last stop on this madcap journey: Huntsville, Alabama. I confess, when Roland had told me that’s where his safe house was, I hadn’t been excited. My stereotypes of Alabama were even worse than my Ohio ones. Roland had been quick to set me straight before I’d left Tucson.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Eugenie,” he’d told me. “But you’re kind of a snob.”

“I am not,” I’d argued. “I’m open-minded about a lot of things. And places.”

He’d scoffed. “Right. You’re like most people from the Western U.S., convinced that anywhere else is beneath your notice.”

“That’s not true at all! It’s just ... I’m just used to certain things. I mean, Tucson’s a lot bigger than Huntsville. I’m just used to that larger-city feel, you know?”

“Right,” he’d said, eyeing me skeptically. “Which is why you’ve been living in a medieval castle with no electricity or indoor plumbing.”

It was a fair point, and I’d made no further argument.