There was a long pause as I waited expectantly. Volusian was enjoying this, I realized. He wasn't going to elaborate until I asked because he wanted to draw out the agony.
"Damn it! Tell me what happened!"
Volusian got this pleased look on his face that I suspected was the closest he ever came to smiling. "The Oak King is ..." I held my breath. "... alive."
"Thank God." Of course, thinking of my own wounds, "alive" might not mean much. "Is he hurt?"
"He is well and uninjured."
I sank gratefully onto my bed, knowing I wore my emotions all over my face. I hated to ever show anything like that in front of Volusian. I wanted to maintain an image of power. This situation was too important, though. Fear and worry for Dorian and the battle had been a knot within me, one I only just now dared to loosen.
"What about the others? Who won?"
"Your forces, mistress."
Again, relief flooded through me. We had won. Dorian was okay. "Casualties?"
"Inevitable, of course." Volusian didn't seem particularly concerned, but then, he was never concerned about much. "Death and injury on both sides. The Oak King's lands and towns remained untouched."
That last part was good news. But death and injury? No, I didn't like that. I wanted to know numbers, but for now, that was irrelevant. One death was too much. I'd get all the stats I needed from Dorian soon enough. I started to thank Volusian, but that wasn't the way our relationship worked.
"Go back to the Oak Land. Tell Dorian I'll be there shortly."
Volusian gave a small nod of acknowledgment. I expected him to vanish instantly, but he paused, eyes narrowing slightly. "My mistress has also been in a battle tonight."
I shifted slightly, becoming aware of the bandages covering my shoulder and back. "Yeah, I fought a fetch."
"Who inflicted great injury."
"It would appear so, wouldn't it?"
"But not enough to kill you."
The look I gave him was answer enough.
"Pity," he said. He vanished.
"Damn it," I muttered. I stayed where I was, staring off into space. I needed to cross to Dorian's land soon, but for now, I allowed the news to percolate in my head for a few moments more. Only, a new distraction presented itself.
Otherworldly magic washed over me seconds before a voice spoke. "You could end it easily, you know."
I jumped up from my bed as the ghost from the mountains appeared before me. Silently, I cursed myself for having packed up my weapons. Since my queenhood, attacks at home had dropped off, lulling me into a false sense of security. It was lazy of me. Foolish. With no care for the other carefully packed items, I upended my bag, dumping everything out. I grabbed my wand, expecting the ghost to attack.
Instead, she just hung in the air, face blank. "You shouldn't have come back," I said, wand ready and pointed. Weary as I was, banishing magic tingled within me. "You should have stayed away."
She stayed motionless, uncaring of the threat I presented. "I told you. I can't. I need your help."
"And I told you, I can't help you."
"I can help you," she said. "I can help you find the Iron Crown."
The magic welling within me paused and then I dropped it altogether. I eyed her warily. "How do you know about that?"
She gave a weak shrug. "I've been following you."
I began the banishing again, quickly working out her words. Of course she could follow me. She was a strong ghost, one who could likely flit between this and the Otherworld as easily as I saw her move around here. The magic of the Otherworld, which concealed so many spirits, would make her harder to detect there. Following - and spying - would be easy.
"We're done with this," I said. Power coursed into the wand. Still, she didn't flinch.
"The Iron Crown," she repeated. "I know where it is. I can lead you."
Again, I paused the banishing and recalled something Dorian had said. "The way is blocked to spirits."
"Yes," she agreed. "But I know the starting point. You don't even know that. I can take you there, and you can go the rest of the way on your own."
"I don't believe you. I have no reason to. You could just get me mucked up in your little investigation and then disappear."
This finally brought about emotion. Anger flickered in those pale eyes. "'Little investigation?' This is my family! Their lives! They mean everything to me."
"Meant," I corrected. "You need to cut your ties to this world."
Her lips flattened into a straight line, as though she fought to control her temper. "I'll take you there first. After you have the crown, you'll help me. I'll be the one taking you at your word. You have nothing to lose."
"Nothing except my life," I muttered. "A crown that does nothing except lead me on some lethal journey is a big gamble. I don't even believe Masthera's crazy logic."
"Other spirits say it can do what she says," the ghost said. "They're old. They remember it."
Well, that at least answered one of my questions. The dubious nature of the crown aside, I understood how a ghost like this would know about something so ancient. The grief that bound her to this world might make her strong, but she struck me as a new ghost, one that would hardly know about some legendary artifact.
"It's all ridiculous," I said. "It's time for you to go."
"It is," she agreed. "Think about my offer. Summon me when you're ready. My name is Deanna."
And as easily as she'd come, she disappeared, beating my banishing. Admittedly, it had less to do with my skill than with my own doubt. Her words had struck something in me. A tiny spark of wonder, wonder that maybe there was some wacky way to end this war. If the legends were true. If Deanna wasn't lying. If I didn't die setting out alone on a treacherous journey.
Shaking my head, I once more chastised myself for letting her go. Next time. Next time I'd banish her to the Underworld as soon as I saw her face. For now, I had to go to Dorian. I'd wasted too much time. Hastily, I repacked my bag and went on my way.
Tim and Lara still sat in the living room. Recognizing what the bag meant, Tim again muted the TV, an uncharacteristic look of concern on his face.
"Eug ... don't you think going over to Never Never Land is a bad idea after getting your ass kicked tonight?"
"You should see the other guy." I shifted the bag, careful to keep it on my good shoulder and away from my back. "Besides, sad as it is, I think I'm safer there than here."
He sighed, and I couldn't help a smile. I glanced at Lara. "I'll be back as soon as I can."
Her face was as grave as Tim's. "I don't think we're charging enough."
I laughed. "Probably not."
I left them for a gateway that opened up near Dorian's. I had an anchor in his castle too, and crossing over nearby pulled me to it. I appeared in a small, empty chamber that he reserved purely for the anchor. Even injured, I'd had no difficulty making the transition. A long time ago, I couldn't even cross in human form. I'd come over as my spirit's totem: a dark swan. Now, coming here was as easy as stepping through a door. My power had indeed grown, something that Kiyo and my parents feared.
I didn't get very far down the adjacent hall before I was spotted by a servant. "Your Majesty!" he sputtered, managing a clumsy bow. "The king has been expecting you."
"Then take me to him," I said.
Dinner had long since ended, and Dorian was in one of his posh sitting rooms, surrounded by a handful of counselors and generals. To my surprise, Masthera sat there too, off in a corner where she observed rather than participated in the meeting. Dorian's face was calm and collected as he spoke to the others, but his expression broke a little when he saw me.
"Eugenie!"
In a few strides, he was across the room. Something cracked inside of me too, something that was so, so glad to see him alive and well. Despite Volusian's report, I'd needed to see Dorian alive for myself. My heart swelled, and I let go of my aversion to gentry customs. I dropped the bag and wrapped my arms around his neck, seeking his lips before he could hardly even get his hands on me. He gripped my hips as we kissed, the power of that kiss sweeping my body and filling it with heat as I pressed against him. It was suddenly easy to understand why gentry sometimes felt the need to have sex in public.
No such option was given to me because Dorian's hands slid up my waist, freezing when he touched the bandages. He pulled away abruptly, studying me with astonishment. I still wore my tank top, giving a full view of the hospital's handiwork.
"Good grief, woman," he exclaimed. "What happened?"
I gave as unconcerned a shrug as he might. "I got in a fight. With a fetch."
He stared.
"She threw a table at me."
Dorian peered beyond me, over at the servant who'd escorted me to the room. "Get a healer."
"No, don't," I said. The guy hesitated, glancing between us, torn between two commands. "You need your healers for the armies. This looks worse than it is." That wasn't entirely true. The painkillers I'd been given were wearing off, making the scratches itchy and sore. Yet, I couldn't shake Volusian's words about death and injury. I wouldn't take any healers away from the armies. I gave Dorian a warning look. "It's fine."
He returned my look, locking us in a brief battle of wills. "Fine," he repeated. He glanced over at the servant. "She says it's fine. Far be it from me to question my lady. Come join us, dear. I assume your despicable little pet gave you the essentials?"
A chair was quickly brought over to me, and I joined the meeting. The details of it were a blur. I was no strategist, not for this kind of war. One-on-one fights were my thing. Mostly I listened to the group, not always understanding, as they studied maps and discussed army movement and strategic targets. Borders and areas with resources - like my copper mines - seemed to be a protective priority, which was about the only part I truly understood.
The part that really stuck with me was the recap of this battle. It had been long, even though our superior numbers had ensured victory almost from the beginning. The towns and our food were safe. The number of casualties were recounted briefly. Dorian and his advisors seemed pleased by them, considering them low. I supposed, as far as percentages went in the army, they were. Still ... people had died. Gentry or not, it didn't matter. They had families, people who loved them. People who would mourn. I felt sick to my stomach.
The meeting closed with plans for our next move, plans I agreed to automatically when consulted. Everyone left, off for bed, except me, Dorian, and Masthera. The pleased, laconic look Dorian had worn for his team vanished once the last person was out of our sight. He turned on me, outrage in those beautiful eyes.