Shaya’s face looked more troubled than ever, but I paid it little concern as I walked outside to a small circular courtyard in the castle’s center. This seemed to be a fixture in most gentry holdings. Dorian had a couple. I’d been told that this one had been green in Aeson’s time, filled with lilies and lilacs. Now, it was sandy and gravelly, lined with cacti, mesquite, and even some of the thorn trees that had given the land its name. At least the mesquite scented the air, and I decided one perk of the Otherworld was that those trees always seemed to be in bloom.

I sat down cross-legged in the middle of the courtyard, noticing that someone had started to set stone tiles into it to create a kind of patio area. It hadn’t been there last time, and I wondered if it was Shaya’s doing, just like the patches of grass she kept trying to grow around here. Not waiting for shot glasses, I uncapped the tequila and took a long swig, the strong liquor burning my throat.

Shaya returned shortly, Rurik following. His face was uncharacteristically serious. After a brief moment of exchanged looks, they joined me on the tiled ground. Shaya set down some tiny cups made of engraved silver. Not quite shot glasses, but they would do. I took the bottle and filled three of them up.

“To the Willow Queen and her child,” I said, holding my cup in the air. I downed it one gulp. “Damn. Wish I had some salt and lime.”

Shaya and Rurik exchanged glances once more-did they honestly think I didn’t notice each time?-and then followed my lead with the tequila. Rurik took his down stoically, but Shaya choked on hers.

“What…what is this?” she asked, once she was able to speak.

“God’s favorite liquor. I should have had Volusian run to the grocery store and get some margarita mix while he was out.” I paused, laughing at the thought. I poured another shot. “It’s made from a kind of cactus, you know.”

Shaya eyed the bottle askance. “Truly?”

“Yup. Huh. I wonder if we could manufacture this stuff. I’ve seen agave around. I bet we could set up some serious trade with it.”

“I’m not so certain,” she said.

Rurik was pouring another glass. “I don’t know. It might appeal to some.”

“Ah, Rurik. I knew we were kindred spirits.” I held up my empty shot glass, studying the way the half-moon’s light shone on it. My head was regaining its pleasant buzz again. “Do you think Maiwenn’s going to have a boy or a girl?”

“I don’t know,” said Shaya after several moments of silence. “There are those who can magically determine such things. But I haven’t heard of the Willow Queen doing that.”

“Probably not.” Kiyo would have told me. Or would he have? Maybe he would have held on to that news, keeping it as a special secret between him and Maiwenn. I poured another shot but didn’t drink it yet. Shitfaced was one thing; sick was another. “Back in my world, they would have known its gender a long time ago. They also would have been able to tell all sorts of things-its size, if it had any diseases, even if it was twins or triplets. There’s this machine we’ve got. You run a paddle over the mother’s stomach, and then you can see the baby up on this screen. Or, sometimes, even earlier, they can take a needle and suck up amniotic fluid to find out the same things.”

Rurik and Shaya were staring at me wide-eyed. It was a common expression amongst Otherworldly denizens whenever I began talking about human technology.

“I wonder sometimes if there’s any mystery or wonder left in your world at all.”

I glanced over and saw Ysabel’s form silhouetted in the doorway to the castle.

“Oh, sure. Plenty of it.” I gestured her over. “Come have a drink. I’m pretty sure I’m too drunk to kill anyone tonight.”

Ysabel hesitated a few seconds and then slowly walked over, sitting near Rurik and Shaya, as far from me as she could respectfully go. She grimaced slightly at the tiles as she tucked her flowing silk skirts underneath her. No doubt being on the ground went against her fastidious nature. Rurik cheerfully handed her a tequila shot. She sniffed it, and her scowl returned.

My mind was still on babies. “Seems like ultrasounds would be useful to you guys. I mean, what with the trouble you have having kids.”

There was a good chance, I knew, that Maiwenn might not even survive the delivery. Or that her child wouldn’t. It was common among the gentry, sort of the cost for their long and healthy lives. I didn’t know how I felt about that. I didn’t wish death on either of them…and yet, how much simpler would things be if there was no Maiwenn and no baby? Even now, I could picture Kiyo by her side, holding her hand. His handsome face would be lined with worry as he spoke words of encouragement. Surely, with his human blood, their baby would be healthy and strong. And Maiwenn was a healer…. would that be useful to herself? Maybe. Everything would go well, I was certain, and they’d undoubtedly have a beautiful baby, one that would create a bond between them forever, a bond I could never be a part of….

I drank my next shot and noticed that Ysabel had manfully downed hers. “Nice work,” I said. “You want another?”

She shook her head. “I don’t consider it ladylike to drown oneself in excess, losing hold of inhibitions and all sense of decorum.”

“Of course you don’t,” I said.

“I believe,” she added primly, “that the Willow Queen shares my views.”

I smiled, spinning my cup on the ground, watching in fascination as it turned in smaller and smaller circles before coming to a stop. With Maiwenn’s baby consuming my thoughts, Ysabel’s baiting seemed insignificant tonight.

We continued on for a while, Rurik keeping up with me in shots, with Shaya only occasionally indulging. Ysabel seemed to have lost her fear of me and continued her running commentary of barbed remarks. I think knowing I was in a fragile state over Maiwenn’s labor had emboldened her. In fact, she was in the middle of some anecdote about how Kiyo and Maiwenn had first gotten involved when her words came to a halt, and her features lit up with surprise.

“My lord!” she cried, springing up just as one of my servants began announcing, “His royal majesty, King Dorian, of the House of Arkady, caller of earth-”

Dorian strode forward into the courtyard without waiting for his titles to finish. Ysabel fell to her knees before him, face radiant. “My lord!”

He gave her a brief nod of acknowledgment and then swept on past her toward me. I don’t think anyone except me saw the devastation that filled her face over the slight. Shaya and Rurik began to rise out of courtesy, but Dorian quickly motioned them down. Unfastening his cloak-it appeared to be navy in the moonlight-he spread it on the ground and sat beside me.

“Well, well, a party, and no one invited me.”

“It was kind of impromptu,” I said, reaching over to pour him a shot. My hand trembled as I held the bottle.

Dorian took it from me and finished pouring. He eyed me carefully. “And yet, it appears to have been going on for some time.”

“Yes. We’re toasting the birth of the next king or queen of the Willow Land.”

“So I’ve heard, which is why I came to see how the news was received here.” Dorian tossed back the tequila. His eyebrows rose in surprise at the taste, but it didn’t stop him from pouring another. “And don’t presume her child will inherit. It all depends on strength and power.”

His words reminded me distantly of Leith’s own inheritance problems, which then reminded me of Leith’s declaration of love. Ugh. I’d probably killed our one chance at engineering help. Well, that was a concern for another day. “How’d you get here so fast?” I asked Dorian.

“Not that fast. I heard hours ago.”

Hours ago. Dorian had found out before I had. Probably everyone had. Who was I, after all? Certainly no one who was connected to this birth. I was just another monarch who’d be expected to send jewels or tapestries when the baby was born. I poured another shot, but Shaya reached for it.