Page 85 of A City of Emeralds and Envy
I know they are grateful for the transport to the mainland, but none of them have time for me right now. Nor do I care, honestly. They’re decent enough—Riordan is a better brother than I could have wished for, and I’d call the othersfriends—but none of them are as interesting as the one person I left behind.
Not that West will have time for me either. He’ll be busy sorting out the mess the god-star left behind. He’ll have to speak with all the thralls whose minds were freed when the god-star was trapped. And he’ll have to re-establish himself as the ruler of the whole Isle, not just the western quadrant. According to him, the Isle was never one for overseas alliances—operated on a sort of isolationist policy—but with time, under new leadership, some trade and travel will resume.
All of which means that West will be far too busy for the likes of me.
Right before I transported Alice and her boys to the mainland, he gave me an airy wave and said, “Stay as long as you like, Kin-Slayer. No need to hurry back.”
But there is a need. A clawing, hollow, hungry need, deep in my gut—the need to argue with him, scream at him, fight him, fuck him. I want him.
My whole being itches to be gone, to be back in Oz. Now that I’ve been here, to this part of the Seelie Kingdom, I can return anytime, at a moment’s notice. Why shouldn’t I leave? I can’t help with Jasper—I’ll only be in the way.
Maybe I should stay here, though. Maybe it is the “right” thing to do, the expected thing, the moral thing: supporting my brother and my friends in this time of crisis. Maybe I should pull on the mask again—shove aside what I want, and fake what’s expected of me.
As I ponder it all, I catch Riordan’s eye. Frowning slightly, he breaks away from the others and approaches me, scanning my expression.
“You want to leave,” he says quietly. “Go.”
“I shouldn’t.”
“You should. You need to discuss your future with your new mate.”
I swallow hard, unable to find words. Unable to decide how I should feel about all of it—my link with West, my possible status as his queen…
Riordan cocks his head. “Does it make you unhappy, your connection to him? Do you feel trapped by it? Because you don’t have to live with him, or sleep with him again. The two of you can exist apart—”
He must see my eyes widening with dread at the thought, because a teasing smile stretches his mouth. “Ah. So you do love him.”
“This isn’t what I felt before, years ago, when I thought I loved someone,” I confess.
“No two loves are the same. I love Alice differently than I love Caer, and my affection for Jasper is unique as well. And my love for you is far different, yet still strong.” He cups my shoulder with his warm, scarred hand. “Sister.”
A surge of emotion swells my heart. “You’re sure of it? I thought you had to do some test—”
“I did. Back at West’s castle, when I was making the potions. I took that drop of your blood, not for the death-simulant, but for the test. We are children of the same Fae mother. You are Dorothy Gale, sister to Riordan Gale of the Unseelie Court.”
Dorothy Gale.
We stand there for a moment, while I absorb the confirmation of what I already knew, deep in my bones and blood.
Then I hug him, and he hugs me back. Quickly, a little stiffly. It’s perfect.
“I’ll go then,” I tell him. “But you can send a message to Opal if you need me… or…”
“There are ways I can reach you, even as far away as Oz,” Riordan assures me. “We will speak again soon.”
“I wish you the best,” I tell him. “All of you, and Jasper as well.”
“And I wish the same for you.” He nods and turns away, striding back to the others.
I click my heels together and picture West’s castle in my mind. “Take me home,” I murmur, and the mushroom garden whirls away.
I stumble as I take the third step and appear in the parlor of West’s castle. Fiero jumps up from the rug where he was sleeping, a little dazed, his doggy fur smushed along the side of his snout. Chuckling, I scoop him up and accept several slobbery kisses.
After a moment I put him down and stare around the room at the couches and tapestries, richly-made but a bit neglected. The castle is silent—not a sound of guards or servants, only the clicking of Fiero’s nails as he trots across a stone section of the floor between rugs, on his way back to his sleeping spot.
I’m glad we left him here when we went to the Emerald City. The confrontation with the Wizard would have been too dangerous for him. In fact, this whole place has been far too dangerous. It’s a wonder he has survived. More wondrous still is how comfortable he seems in this Fae stronghold, far from everything he used to know.
“We were meant to be here, weren’t we?” I say absently. “Meant to be in Faerie, at least, if not exactlyhere. Is this home, do you think, Fiero?”
