Roland stared off into the shadows, his face troubled. “Under most circumstances, I wouldn’t have told you. People can’t live in cold like that, and those who survive have no food. You know how I feel about the gentry. But when I actually saw it ... the death and sickness. Well. I don’t know, Eugenie. I don’t like them, but no one should suffer like that. Not even the gentry.”

I sank down to the grass, mostly because I felt exhausted in mind rather than body. My lands. My kingdoms were suffering ... had been suffering for a long time ... and I hadn’t known. Maybe I could leave Otherworldly politics behind. Maybe I could even leave my enemies behind. But the land was part of me. I was responsible for it, and I had failed it.

“I don’t know what I can do,” I said. “Even if I went back ... I mean, if Dorian and Maiwenn haven’t come up with any ideas, I’m not sure I could do better.”

“They mentioned something about uniting powers to attempt to break the spell.... I didn’t really follow that, though.” Roland’s tone conveyed that even if he pitied the gentry for their suffering, their magic was still something he had no use for. “Dorian also has some ideas about who’s responsible.”

Of course he would. Even if his own magical attempts proved ineffectual, Dorian wouldn’t sit idly by. He’d try to solve this mystery. My knowledge of the situation was limited, but I tried to figure out where his thought process might go. I jumped back to one of Roland’s earlier comments, about how some outlying kingdoms hadn’t been affected.

“Who isn’t under the blight?” I asked. “You said a few weren’t.”

“The Yew Land is one,” said Roland, looking surprised at my leap. “That’s who Dorian thinks—”

“—is responsible?” I guessed.

“How did you know that?”

“Because as much as I hate to admit it, I know how Dorian thinks. If some places were affected and some weren’t, I’d look at the unaffected ones too.”

“That’s what Dorian said.” Roland didn’t look pleased that I could “think like Dorian,” and I could definitely understand his dismay. “But that’s not all. Apparently, they’re making quite a profit off of food. Their land—and I guess their, what, subsidiaries?—are still able to grow and produce food, and they have no qualms about selling it to the stricken lands at very, very high prices.”

I was aghast. “That’s terrible.”

Roland shrugged. “But some of the monarchs are willing to pay, rather than see their people suffer. And it’s better than the alternative... .”

I looked up sharply at his ominous tone. “What alternative?”

“Stealing.”

“From the Yew Land?” I certainly didn’t endorse theft but was surprised Roland would care one way or another about gentry stealing from each other.