“Onya?” Moments later, I remembered the portrait I’d seen in the throne room, depicting a queen of the same name and her two daughters.
Magia nodded. “Onya the Magnificent. Ganene’s mother. Varia’s grandmother. One of the Yew Land’s most powerful leaders. Their whole family was powerful. It was how they were able to keep passing the land down through the generations.”
“Remarkable,” Dorian agreed. I’d learned enough to know that lineage didn’t affect who controlled Otherworldly kingdoms. Power did. Monarchs certainly wanted their children to inherit, but many times, those offspring simply weren’t strong enough to claim the land.
“Onya had a younger daughter, Nissa the Fair.” I remembered the pretty girl in the painting and wondered if this use of nicknames was a Yew custom or simply a product of that era. I wondered also if history would remember me as Eugenie the Badass. “Nissa didn’t possess nearly the power of her sister and mother, but she was beautiful and kind and loved by many—including Volusian.”
I stared in disbelief. “Volusian—in love?” I think that was more unbelievable to me than any of the crazy acts of magic I had witnessed in the Otherworld.
“He was alive back then,” Dorian reminded me. “Not an undead creature forced to wander the worlds without peace. I imagine that would change a person.”
“Nissa loved him too, even though he wasn’t of the same rank,” continued Magia. “Onya didn’t approve, but she valued him and desperately needed his powers in a war she was waging with a neighboring kingdom. She and Ganene came up with a plan to convince the couple that they could marry after the war, once Volusian had helped lead Onya’s forces to victory. It was all a lie, though, and while he was gone, Ganene and Onya forcibly made Nissa marry a king that they were hoping to secure as an ally. Shortly after the wedding, Nissa committed suicide.”
I was totally hooked now and had nearly forgotten that Volusian—my Volusian—was the hero of this tale. It was rapidly taking on the status of a Shakespearean tragedy.
“Volusian returned to find not only that his betrothed had been given to another man but that she was dead. He was so enraged that he turned to the dark arts and ended up aiding Onya’s enemies. They brought a level of horror and devastation to the Yew Land without compare.”
Thinking of the blight, I questioned that. Of course, Volusian couldn’t have earned the “Slayer of Souls” title without doing some pretty awful things.
Magia’s eyes grew thoughtful. “It’s almost certain the Yew Land would have been completely destroyed, but Onya and Ganene were finally able to trap and capture Volusian. They decided simple execution wasn’t a great enough punishment for what he had done, and so he was killed and cursed into the state you found him. Without his assistance, the Yew Land’s enemies backed off and made peace.”
“Well,” I said, still a bit stunned, “that certainly explains why he hated the Yew Land and Varia so much. I can’t say I approve of his actions, but it is a little sad that in the end, Onya’s line defeated him after all.”
“I don’t know about that. Varia met her end,” Dorian pointed out. “Surely that will give him some peace in the Underworld.” Dorian sighed. “That really was an inelegant way to kill her. That’s what happens when you act in the heat of passion.”
It may have been inelegant, but it had most certainly saved my life. I didn’t know how long it would have taken him and the others to subdue Varia through other means, and the odds were good that she might have really made our heads explode. I was happy to be alive and have Dorian err on the side of crudeness in accomplishing the task.
In some ways, the journey home felt longer than the initial one. The conditions were much better—and actually made for faster travel—but we were all anxious and impatient to see how our kingdoms had recovered. Traveling through the blighted lands we’d passed before was actually pretty inspiring. Most had returned to their initial temperatures, facilitating the melting of snow. Of course, that offered another set of problems. Mud and floods became commonplace, and the food situation couldn’t be remedied overnight. When we passed through the Palm Land, I looked at the giant trees with regret. The blight’s end wouldn’t bring them back to life.
“Those won’t grow back anytime soon,” I murmured regretfully.
“But they’ll grow back faster than you think,” said Kiyo. “Remember where you’re at.”
Around the eighth day of travel, the road shifted and brought us into the Rowan Land. The land sang to me, its energy radiating out to me in a palpable wave that brought me to a halt. I gasped, overwhelmed by that force and life pouring into me. I jumped off the horse and ran off the road, falling to my knees on the muddy ground. I sank my fingers into it, closing my eyes in ecstasy as I felt the land’s welcome.
I breathed in the air around me, which was back to its typically mild temperature. There was an overwhelming scent of water and dirt, but as a light breeze ruffled my hair, I sensed something else ... the promise of growth and new life. Opening my eyes, I saw little but a dark, muddy landscape, but I could tell the plants and trees were on the verge of making their comeback. Kiyo had been right. I had to remember which world I was in.
I got to my feet and found the rest of my companions watching me indulgently. Dorian even had a wistful look on his face, no doubt yearning for his own land. “It’s recovering,” I said. “Slowly but surely.”
“What do you want to do?” asked Rurik. “Cut across country or follow the road?”
I understood what he was asking. In the Otherworld’s bizarre layout, it would take us longer to turn off into the Rowan Land and reach my castle. The road would be shorter but would crisscross through other kingdoms. I admit, I just wanted to lose myself in this land but opted for practicality instead.
“We’ll stick to the road,” I said. “I want to see the Thorn Land if I can.”
It was early evening, and we’d have to camp soon, even though all of us were eager to push forward. We traveled as long as the light allowed and finally made camp just over the border of the Oak Land, much to Dorian’s delight. As was the case with me, this wasn’t an ideal spot from which to go to his castle, so he was content to stay overnight with us.
Honestly, I think it was enough for him just to be home again. I’d never seen him so entranced by something. Usually he was always watching the people around him, always on top of whatever plots were developing. Now, he had eyes only for the land. He paced around, examining the dirt and touching the trees. Whenever he walked away, I saw shoots and buds on the trees. He and I had taken to having bedtime talks near the fire, but I left him alone tonight.
Kiyo sat beside me as I unfolded my bedroll. “I’ll likely be leaving tomorrow,” he told me. “We should reach the Willow Land.”
“I’m kind of surprised you haven’t tried to kill me, now that we’ve ended the blight,” I remarked lightly.
He sighed. “You’re not the problem anymore, Eugenie. You know that.”
“Neither are my children.”
The end of the blight had allowed me to hope I might be seeing Isaac and Ivy soon. Nearly a month had passed, which was huge for infants their age. So much could change, and I yearned to hurry back before I missed much more. After the way Kiyo and I had worked together in the Yew Land, I’d kind of hoped things might improve between us. I hadn’t forgiven him, but it had seemed like we had the potential to establish some sort of civility now. Apparently not.
“Is there anything at all that would change your mind?” Kiyo asked. “Anything at all to convince you of the danger he represents?”
“Is there anything that would convince you that your son is a real person with the right to live and not some pawn of destiny?” I returned.