“And we got some good news about them today.” How could I have forgotten my big announcement? As expected, Candace and Charles were delighted at the thought of holding Isaac and Ivy. “You need to come see them,” I added to Roland. “We could go back tonight. Or in the morning. How long will you be around?”

It was at that moment, as the question left my lips, that I realized something. Roland wasn’t supposed to be here. That had been an unquestionable part of the plan from its inception. Roland could be tracked, and no matter how much we might miss each other, distance was the safest option. I met his eyes and could tell he knew what I had just realized.

“Not sure,” he said vaguely. “But I can definitely make time to see them.” His evasive answer didn’t surprise me. His presence must mean there’d been some Otherworldly development, and that wasn’t a topic we could discuss with the Reeds. A glint in his eye told me we’d talk about it later, and I gave a quick nod of understanding.

Dinner was requisite, of course, and conversation shifted to happier topics, like the twins and Candace’s cooking. I couldn’t get enough of talking about Isaac and Ivy, yet at the same time, a nagging feeling dimmed some of my joy. Roland being here couldn’t be a good thing.

Our chance to talk finally came later when Evan left and Candace and Charles settled down to watch the evening news. Roland and I went on a walk around the Reeds’ vast property, ensuring we’d have ample privacy.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “I’m glad you’re here—you have no idea how glad—but there must be a reason you’d risk someone from the Otherworld following you.”

Roland sighed and came to a halt beside a pecan tree. “That’s the thing. There’s no risk because no one’s trying to find you anymore.”

I stared incredulously. “What? That’s ... that’s impossible. Of course they are. Kingdoms were on the verge of war because of me.”

“Not anymore,” he said. “They’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

“Bigger things than the divisive prophecy saying my son will lead their armies into conquering this world?”

“Amazingly, yes.” He gazed up at the starry sky, gathering his thoughts. “I guess it started ... oh, I don’t know ... a month or maybe a month and a half ago. It seems the Otherworld—or rather, large parts of it—were struck by a blight.”

“What does that entail exactly?” I asked. For some reason, “blight” made me think of barren fields and locust plagues.

“Winter,” he said bluntly. “Perpetual winter. And not just any winter—pretty much the worst you can imagine. It came without warning. Steady snow and frigid temperatures that kill people and crops. I wouldn’t have believed it until I saw it myself.”