About five miles down the road, we crossed into the Yew Land and paused to look around. The climate was temperate, a hair cooler than the Rowan Land (when not blighted), with big deciduous trees that reminded me of the Pacific Northwest. The forest had its own set of chattering insects and animals and gave off the same rich vibe of life and fertility that the Mimosa Land had had. Both were miraculous after the snowy kingdoms we’d left behind. I was so entranced that I didn’t notice the obvious until Kiyo pointed it out.

“Volusian’s gone.”

I glanced to my side, where Volusian had been hovering along earlier. Sure enough, he’d vanished at the border. “No need to panic yet,” I said. “He seemed to think that would happen. I can re-summon him.”

I spoke the words and waited. I felt the magic stir within me and then spread out when I called for him. As I did, I had the impression the magic was breaking apart and scattering, like dandelion seeds on the wind. Usually, that magic was like an arrow heading straight for him and bringing him back to me. Frowning, I took out my wand and attempted it again. I’d grown so strong in the last year that I’d no longer had to use the wand for summoning him. Now, its extra power might help.

The magic spread out from me again, this time feeling more cohesive and stabilized ... at first. Then, after several moments, I felt it start to fracture again. No Volusian. The fact that I’d felt a change at all inspired me, and I refused to give up. Tightening my grip on the wand, I made a third attempt, using a focus and harnessing of power I hadn’t needed with him in ages. The effort made me tense all my muscles and begin to sweat, but I felt the magic hold. At long last, Volusian appeared, but he was a shadow of his former self. Often, spirits looked different between the human world and Otherworld, with a more solid form in the latter. Volusian was so strong that he appeared the same in both worlds—usually. Now, although his features were the same, he was translucent and wavering, like I’d expect to see from a weak spirit in the human world.

“It seems my mistress’s bonds have overridden those of the Yew Land,” he said. I wouldn’t go so far as to say he sounded impressed, but he definitely seemed a little less scathing than usual.

“Yeah, but not without a lot of effort,” I pointed out. Although I didn’t constantly have to pump magic through the bond to hold me, I had a feeling that slipping up even a little would cause me to lose him again.

“Too much effort,” he replied. “I would recommend my mistress not call me until absolutely needed. If you exert this kind of power continuously, you may weaken yourself for Varia or not be able to command me anymore.”

“Fair enough,” I said. I didn’t feel as though he was close to breaking his servitude, but there seemed no point exerting unnecessary effort. “And now we at least know it works. You can go.” He vanished, and I breathed a little easier.

We continued on, all of us on high alert as we watched the forest for any sign of trouble. Dorian brought his horse up beside mine and said in a low voice, “Was I the only one who noticed Volusian actually advised you of a strategy that would keep you bound to him? Unless things have changed, I’m fairly certain he loathes and wants to destroy you.”

I nodded, thinking back to Volusian’s words. “Oh, that hasn’t changed. But as hard as it is to believe, I think he hates the Yew Land more.”

“That is hard to believe.”

I smiled. “If I did keep him with me nonstop here, it’s possible I would grow too weak to bind him as my servant anymore. True, he’d be able to kill me then—but not while I was in the Yew Land. Because as soon as he broke free, there’d be nothing to pull him back. He’d be banished once again. I think he wants to be here, and I’m the only way to make that happen.”

“Do you think he wants revenge?” asked Dorian.

I recalled Volusian’s animosity when he’d first seen the ambassador’s statues. “Absolutely. Although ... I’m not sure on whom since everyone from that era is dead.”

“Still, you might be courting trouble in allowing him to be here. He might act out on his own—and you might not be able to keep him in check.”

“I know,” I said, wondering what Volusian on a rampage would look like. Not something I wanted to ponder too much. “But he’s still useful to us, which is something I don’t think we can put aside. Besides, this sounds terrible ... but all of us have the same end goals, even him. None of us like the Yew Land.”

“Correction. Volusian doesn’t like the Yew Land. We don’t like Varia.”

“True. Does that mean you think I’m making a mistake in keeping him around?”

“No,” said Dorian, shaking his head. “He’s an asset. And I know how much those mean to you. You certainly told me that enough when I was entranced.”

I groaned and looked away. “I’d been wondering how much you’d remember.”

“Probably more than you’d like,” he said, sounding far too cheerful. “But I found it quite delightful. In fact, I’m very pleased to be invited to train up little Ivy and Thundro. That was most kind of you.”

“Hey!” I turned back to him and was treated to a full-on Dorian smirk. “That is not what I said. Not exactly.”

“But it’s very reasonable,” he teased. “I have skills no one else can teach your children. And it’d be a shame not to pass my legendary charm and charisma on to the next generation. A tragedy, even.”

“Legendary, huh? That might be an exaggeration.”

“It’s truth, my dear. And I’m willing to put it all at your disposal—I’m willing to put anything at your disposal—if it’ll help you and yours. As I keep saying: What wouldn’t I do for you?”

I met his eyes, expecting to see some Dorian sarcasm, but he was utterly serious. I was uncomfortably reminded of this morning, when I’d woken up and seen him alive and well. Something inside of me had opened and felt more joyous than I’d been in a while. I was starting to feel that way now, and it frightened me.

We kept our conversation to ourselves, but our growing rapport was noticeable to others. Kiyo had a lot to say about it.

“So,” he said to me as we took a midday break, “I see you and Dorian are allies again.”

I took a long drink from a water jug as I contemplated my answer. We’d just crossed into another kingdom, as was typical when traveling. It was always a little disconcerting to leave the place you were going to, but Volusian had assured us we’d be back in the Yew Land before long.

“Dorian and I have always been allies.”

“Not the way I remember it,” said Kiyo darkly. “Didn’t he lie and trick you into winning the Iron Crown?”

“He did,” I agreed. “I don’t like it, but I’ve become more understanding of why he did it. It was for the greater good.”

“It was for his own selfish ambition!” Kiyo cast a glance over his shoulder to see if anyone was listening. “You know that. You know how he is. He wants to use you for his own ends.”

“Maybe,” I said, thinking back on recent conversations with Dorian. “But I also think he wants what’s best for me and my children.”

“He wants what he thinks is best for you.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Well, considering that involves my children staying alive, I’ll gladly take that over you advising on what you think is best. You really have no business preaching to me about this, especially after I was the only one yesterday who even bothered to—”

A shout from Rurik immediately turned me from Kiyo. The others in my party were already looking in the direction we’d just come from, and I quickly spotted what they had. I leapt to my feet and drew my weapons as a group of people on horseback emerged around a bend in the road. Seeing us, they came to an abrupt halt and drew weapons of their own.

“Stay right where you are,” warned one of the men in the strange group. He had a curly blond beard and wielded a worn but effective-looking copper sword. “Attack us, and you’ll regret it.”

Rurik grinned at him, but there was no genuine humor to it. “If you don’t lower your weapons, you’ll regret it. Set them on the ground now before we have to take them from you.”

All this did was make the strangers tense and brace for battle. My group did the same, myself included. Yet, as I did, I took the opportunity to study our combatants more closely. They were all gentry, all armed, but their weapons didn’t have the uniformity or maintenance of the Beech soldiers’. This group wore nothing resembling uniforms either. Their clothing was worn and, in some cases, mismatched. Cloaks and furs were draped in front of them on their horses, like they’d been hastily pulled off when the climate had changed. Some of their faces were smudged, and all looked like they hadn’t been eating well.

“Wait,” I said, hurrying forward.

“I wouldn’t advise it,” said Rurik, gaze fixed on the strangers. “Stay back for your own safety.”

I halted in the middle of our two groups. “Who are you? Where are you from?”

The new group eyed me suspiciously. “Who are you?” asked the blond-bearded man.

“You’re from one of the blighted lands, aren’t you?” I asked, positive I was right.

Nobody changed their stance, but the bearded guy regarded me with new interest. “What of it?”

“So are we,” I said. “We’re from ...” What was that absurd name Dorian had come up with the other day?

“... the Lilac Land,” he said, coming to stand beside me. He held his sword still, but his posture was more relaxed. I think he’d come to the same conclusion I had about these people.

“Never heard of it,” said a woman from the newcomers. A spotted falcon sat upon her shoulder and watched us with equal suspicion.

“Most haven’t,” said Dorian, deadpan. “It’s very far away.” He glanced between her and the blond man and must have decided she was a better bet. Dorian gave her one of his charming smiles. “What’s your kingdom called?”