“What?” he asked gently.

I felt tears start to form in my eyes and willed them away. “I just wish I’d gotten the all-clear on holding them before I left.”

“You can wait,” he said. “Wait until you can hold them, then go to the Otherworld.”

For a moment, I was tempted. Nothing seemed more important in the world—in any world—than having my son and daughter in my arms. But the longer I put off dealing with the blight, the more people would suffer. Plus, I had an uneasy feeling that if I waited much longer, I might never actually leave. My life here had been slow and comfortable, which had been good for me. It was what I had needed. It was what the twins still needed. Staying here, living a sweet, uncomplicated life with them and the Reeds would be easy. I could sink into this life and never look back....

“No,” I said. “The sooner I take care of this blight business, the sooner I can come back to Isaac and Ivy.”

Roland held me tightly. “I’m sorry, Eugenie. I’m proud of you, but I’m so, so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I said, pulling gently away. “This is the right thing to do. But before we leave, there’s something else we have to do.”

He gave me a curious look. “What’s that?”

I caught hold of his hand and tugged him forward. “Come meet your grandchildren.”

Chapter 11

Leaving was even harder than I’d thought it would be. And believe me, I’d expected it to be pretty hard.

It was one thing to talk of sacrifice with Roland, when I was away from Isaac and Ivy and fired up by the thought of saving the Otherworld and stopping Pagiel from pillaging among humans. Going forward with that decision, in the light of day, proved to be an entirely different matter—especially when I was back at the hospital throughout the following week. It didn’t help that the hospital staff kept regarding me like I was crazy. I knew they couldn’t imagine any “family emergency” in the world that would be important enough to justify leaving the bedsides of my NICU-BOUND children. The nurses didn’t judge—not openly—but I was certain I could see the disapproval in their eyes.

Or maybe I was just projecting.

The Reeds were equally astonished, but they had enough faith in Roland and me to believe that whatever cause was taking me away must be important. A good part of what delayed my departure was filling out the reams of paperwork that named Charles and Candace as the twins’ guardians in my absence. Presuming the twins were discharged before my return, Charles and Candace would be allowed to take Isaac and Ivy back to their home. Whenever I started discussing money to help cover the costs that such a venture would entail, nobody would listen to me.

“Nonsense,” Candace exclaimed as we were eating lunch in the hospital’s cafeteria one day. I had just brought up—for the tenth time—the idea of Roland and me pooling funds to buy baby supplies. “I won’t hear of it. What are a few baby things here and there? It’ll be nothing at all.”

I might almost have believed her if I hadn’t discovered a book on “baby essentials” lying around their house, with a shopping list in Candace’s handwriting tucked inside. Most items—and there were a lot more than “a few”—had had “x 2” written next to them, which didn’t reassure me any.

“It’s too much,” I argued. “You guys can’t afford—”

“You have no idea what we can or can’t afford,” she scolded. “You just take care of whatever it is you need to and get back to them. We’ll worry about those little ones. You don’t have to.”

It was impossible not to worry about them, though. No matter how often I told myself that the twins were out of immediate danger and simply had to fulfill their NICU time, I couldn’t help but fear maybe a doctor had missed something. Likewise, although I never doubted the Reeds’ love and devotion, I kept imagining worst-case scenarios. Candace had a dangerous job, after all. What if something happened to her? Would Charles be able to care for them on his own? Would he and Evan have to move in together to take care of the twins, like in some wacky sitcom?

These imaginings delayed me day after day until, one afternoon, Roland called me into Candace’s home office. He’d been checking his e-mail on her computer and beckoned me over to his side. “Look at this,” he said, flipping to a news website.

I leaned over his shoulder and felt my heart sink. “Oh Lord,” I muttered. The story was about a group of “hooligans” who had raided and robbed an outdoor farmers market in Phoenix—on horseback. Reports and witnesses were as sketchy as the Tucson theft had been on TV, but there was no doubt in my mind that this had been Otherworldly in origin. The nature of the farmers market had probably made it easier for them. Food, pure and simple, with easy accessibility. “I don’t suppose they rode their horses from Tucson to Phoenix?”

“Unlikely,” Roland said, leaning back in the chair with a sigh. “Especially since people report that they seemed to have ‘vanished.’ My guess is they’re just using a new gate. I know a couple up in that area.”

I nodded along, trying to merge my mental maps of this world and the Otherworld. “There’s a Phoenix one in the Willow Land. If hostilities really have been lifted, then Maiwenn would probably let Pagiel use it.” I sat down cross-legged on the floor, feeling a quick spark of pride at how quickly I was regaining my flexibility. “I wonder if we should be relieved Tucson isn’t the sole target—or worry that Pagiel’s spreading out to other gates and other cities.”

“We should be concerned that these raids are still going on, period. If you still think you’re up for leaving, we should probably do it soon.” His tone was hard, all-business, but I saw compassion in his eyes.

“I’m still up for it,” I said sadly. “Everything’s in place. If you can book us a flight for tomorrow, I’ll be ready to go.” Every word of that was true, but the finality of it was a hard thing to accept.

Roland made it happen. Candace and Charles sent us off with a huge farewell dinner of chicken and dumplings, though for once, the focus was less on the food and more on tying up all the loose ends and red tape with Isaac and Ivy. The morning of our flight, Roland and I left extra early so that we could make one more visit to the hospital. I don’t know if my timing was just lucky or if the staff felt sorry for me, but the nurse declared we’d reached a point where it would be okay for us to hold the twins.

I could scarcely dare to believe my good fortune. The ventilators were off, but there were still lots of cords and tubes to contend with, making everything a delicate balancing act. Roland and I were each given a twin, and after a little while, we switched. Looking down at Isaac, I felt my breath catch. Although still definitely a preemie, he’d put on weight and looked much more “babylike” than he had at birth. Now that they were both a little more developed, I was more confident than ever that they’d taken after me and not Kiyo. It was just as well since they had my last name and would never have any contact with him.

Isaac slept the entire time I held him, making the small movements and coos that infants do in their sleep. He seemed very content, and I again wondered if he was aware of my presence in any way. Maybe that had been naïve of me to imagine when I was on the other side of the glass, but now, in my arms, he must surely feel some sort of subconscious connection ... right?

So much has been done because of you, I thought. A world nearly went to war for you, and I had to change the way I lived to keep you safe. It had been worth it, though, and I dared to wonder if maybe this current tragedy in the Otherworld would leave its residents with a new sense of solidarity that would make the Storm King prophecy seem like an irrelevant fantasy from the past. I didn’t know if I’d ever want to bring my children into the Otherworld, but regardless of where they were, I wanted them to live peaceful lives that weren’t plagued by war and prophecy.

Ivy was actually awake, a rare treat. Her eyes were dark blue, normal for newborns, and I’d been told we’d have to wait a bit to see what color they settled into. I hoped they’d be violet like mine and continue the trend of the twins not looking like Kiyo.

The visit was too short. I wanted to keep trading twins back and forth with Roland, memorizing every single one of my children’s features. Both the NICU and our airline had their own schedules to keep, however, and we eventually had to give Isaac and Ivy back to their warm, enclosed homes. I left with a lump in my throat and hadn’t gotten very far outside the nursery when I spotted Evan waiting in the hall, leaning patiently against a wall. I came to a stop, and Roland cleared his throat.

“I’ll get the car and meet you up front, okay?” he said.

I nodded as he left and strolled over to Evan. “What are you doing here?” I asked. “Not that I’m not happy to see you.”

Evan straightened up, giving me one of his warm smiles. “Here to see you. Sorry I couldn’t come by last night—we had some late back-to-school events I couldn’t miss. So, I wanted to make sure I caught you before you left.”

“I’m glad,” I said, surprised at the mix of feelings churning within me. I was still keyed up over my visit with the twins, and seeing him only added to the turmoil. “I would’ve hated to leave without saying good-bye.”

“Well,” he said. “It’s not really good-bye, is it? You’ll be back.”

“Of course,” I agreed. “I just don’t know when.”

“Well, you know we’ll take care of everything, so don’t you worry.”

I laughed. “You sound just like your aunt and uncle. Candace keeps saying the same thing.”

“Just telling it like it is.” He shrugged. “I know you wouldn’t go without a good reason. So, take care of what you have to, and know that we’re all here for you—and for them.” He nodded toward the nursery.