Magic Unleashed (Hall of Blood and Mercy Book 3)

by K. M. Shea

  Killian must have sensed what I was driving at, because he played along. An arrogant chuckle escaped from his lips, and he moved his arm so his hand was visible on the top of my shoulder, where he rubbed my skin with his thumb. “That reminds me…I neglected to ask, did Celestina prepare enough rooms for your people tonight?” He talked in a quiet tone that was more of a whisper, but based on King Solis’s expression, he obviously heard what Killian had said.

  “We’re fine,” I whispered back to Killian. “Momoko is doubling up with me in my bedroom, but Celestina had plenty of guest rooms for everyone else.”

  King Solis’s smile didn’t budge, but a second fine line appeared on his forehead. “It seems you share a friendship. How commendable.”

  The Paragon snorted and looked to the side like a jaded teenager. “What?” he said when King Solis stared at him. “Are you really that innocent that you think they’re just friends? Hah!”

  King Solis’s smile sputtered out, and he glanced behind him at one of his courtiers.

  The tallest of the three whipped out a cellphone and started typing furiously on it.

  It seemed our message was received.

  I was a little surprised the Paragon joined in on our act—it was a pretty big indicator of just how concerned he was about those shadowy backers he told us about.

  “I see.” The king’s smile was back, and his voice crackled with the warmth of a bonfire. “What a good omen for the vampires and wizards. But it seems I’ve taken up enough of your time. If you’ll excuse me.”

  The Paragon was focused on scratching his drooping mustache. “Yeah, bye.”

  Killian smiled, flashing his pronounced fangs. “Please alert me if there is anything in the party not to your liking. I hope you enjoy the remainder of your time here.”

  Rather than answer and bind himself to Killian’s promise, King Solis smiled and slightly inclined his head, then drifted off.

  When he was about halfway across the room he kicked his pace up a few notches and booked it over to the fae queen of the Winter Court—who was easy to pick out because she was dressed entirely in white with shades of light blue and gray.

  The two tipped their heads together as they spoke, and soon courtiers from the Winter Court were typing away furiously on their phones.

  I had to purse my lips slightly so my smile wasn’t gleeful. “I’d say that’s a checkmate?”

  “Checkmate, bingo, and goal,” the Paragon cackled.

  “Well done, Hazel,” Killian whispered into my ear.

  I rolled my shoulders, trying to push him into giving me space. “Now we just wait and see if the Night Court takes the bait, right? Do you think we’ll find out by the end of the week?”

  “Good heavens, no,” the Paragon snorted. “You’ll find out by the end of the night!”

  Chapter Twenty

  Hazel

  I was ready to tap out around 3:30 am, but the night was still young for the fae, werewolves, and vampires.

  Most of the wizard guests were in the process of leaving, and about half of my family had retired. (Great Aunt Marraine, of course, was still going strong.)

  I was forcing myself to stay awake, because I didn’t know when I’d be needed as a prop, and if the Paragon was right and the Night Court made their move tonight I was going to be awake for it!

  I retreated to the kitchens for a bit of peace and quiet and—most importantly—coffee.

  The kitchens were quiet—most of the food had been served. The catering staff were only offering desserts and tea, which they prepared in a parlor room closer to the ballroom for convenience, so it was pretty abandoned.

  The only noise was the gurgle of the coffee machine. I held a white mug with great zeal as I patiently waited.

  Hopefully this will perk me up a bit.

  “If you wanted an iced coffee to cool you down, I’m sure one of the staff members could make one.”

  I muffled a yawn. “Hey, Killian. And nah, this is fine. I just need to get some caffeine in my bloodstream if I want to make it.”

  I felt him stand behind me. He was off a little bit to the side, and he leaned forward to rest his palms on the kitchen counter.

  I gave him a hard stare. “This is not going to be the gardens version 2.0.”

  “Of course not,” Killian said. “We’re in the kitchen. Kissing you here would be a very different experience, particularly because anyone stupid enough to try and follow me here who is not a member of my Family will be disemboweled.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You’re so romantic.”

  “That is not a no.”

  I laughed a little, but the coffee machine beeped. I happily filled my cup and dumped in triple the creamer I normally used, then took a deep sniff.

  Ahh. Heaven.

  Killian watched me, his dark eyes glowing a faint red.

  My coffee was too hot to drink, so I set it on the counter. “Why do you keep trying?” I asked.

  Killian blinked. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  “We agreed in the Paragon’s study that we’d talk about this after everything was over with the Night Court. Why are you still hinting and flirting?”

  He popped one eyebrow up and smirked slightly. “You might think the Night Court is an all-consuming worry, but I’ve lived a lot longer than you. I am well aware that when it comes to my priorities, you top the list.”

  I wanted to rub my eyes, but I’d horribly smear my makeup, so I settled for awkwardly rolling my shoulders. “But I’m a wizard.”

  “And that is precisely why the notion that I am as…fond of you as I am makes this, as you would say, a big deal.” He stood up straight and twined a piece of my curled blond hair around his finger. “I recognize that you have chosen to focus on the Night Court for now. I’ll respect that decision, but I’m going to take every opportunity I can to remind you of what comes next.”

  He was too close.

  My heart was rattling around my chest again, smashing into my lungs so it was kind of hard to breathe.

  Killian’s wide smirk softened into more of a hint, and he leaned down.

  I settled my hands against his chest and my eyes drifted shut, and just as his lips touched mine I heard the kitchen door slam open.

  “Your Eminence—I, er, forgive me, but—”

  Killian sighed—the noise almost snake-like. “Naturally.” He abruptly straightened, then smoothly turned to face the door, tugging me along so I was pressed into his side when we faced Gavino together. “I could have him killed,” he said conversationally.

  I scooped up my mug of coffee and took a loud slurp. “You can’t,” I said. “You’re lending him out to me and House Medeis, and we wizards happen to like him.”

  Killian narrowed his eyes. “Then at the very least I could shoot him.”

  Gavino—always pale—turned snow white. “I’m sorry, Your Eminence, but the First Knight said this couldn’t wait.”

  My heart—which had previously been doing cartwheels—froze. I gulped. “The Night Court?”

  Gavino nodded. “A Night Court noblewoman is here with a message for you, Your Eminence.”

  Killian’s eyes glowed blood red. “In that case, we can’t keep them waiting, can we?”

  “Not this time.” I took another slug of my coffee as I remembered Leila’s warning—our best bet was to catch them off guard. “I’m coming with, but I think I’d rather have them believe our relationship is unequal.”

  Both of Killian’s eyebrows shot up. “That ship sailed when you and a small team of your wizards massacred them.”

  “Maybe not,” I said. “They know we’re powerful, but they might think that we’re just your henchmen.”

  Killian thought for a moment, then nodded. “It won’t hurt to try. At the very least it might be amusing to see how it plays out. Let’s go.”

  A final sip of my coffee and I abandoned my mug on the kitchen counter, slipping out of the kitchen after Killian.

  Gavino waited
by the door until I had passed through and brought up the back end. “The messenger is at the main entrance. The Drakes on patrol escorted her to the front door, but I believe the First and Second Knights are with her now.”

  Killian nodded, and stalked through his house. Supernaturals cleared out of his way, driven by the pressure even I could feel oozing off him.

  I made sure I walked just a little behind Killian, my shoes clicking whenever we left a rug and marched across tile, hopefully looking not very intimidating.

  We reached the foyer where, as Gavino had said, Celestina and Josh stood with the Night Court fae. Josh had a sword out and pointed at the representative, but Celestina looked deceptively benign in her gorgeous dress with her pretty smile and no visible weapons.

  The fae delivering the notice was obviously from the Night Court—she had their coppery skin, and her hair was an ashy blond hue. She was wearing a dark blue tunic and held a thick sheaf of paper sealed with a glob of black wax, and was doing considerably well at hiding her nervousness. (Her expression was blank—it was her tendency to flick her eyes at Josh’s sword that gave it away.)

  When she saw Killian she bowed. “Eminence,” she murmured.

  “You have a message for me?” Killian asked.

  “I do.” She handed over the papers, keeping her eyes downcast as Killian ripped through the seal.

  It grew suspiciously quiet around us, so I glanced back, confirming that a few of the fae kings and queens—including the Day King and the Winter Queen—had drawn closer to the entrance and were watching carefully.

  Killian read the letter, then handed it over to me.

  I only glanced at it and struggled between a sigh of relief and tensing in anticipation. It was one of our best-case scenarios. Queen Nyte challenged us to a certamen.

  I won’t bore you with the details—because of their tendency to tell half-truths and leave out important pieces of information, fae tend to be very detailed and long winded. (Seriously, they’re worse than lawyers.)

  Queen Nyte went on and on about how she was requesting a duel because Killian had dishonored her in accusing her of killing her husband—never mind that he’d been right—and since he had no honor this was the only possible outcome unless he accepted her terms of surrender, blah, blah, blah.

  Her terms of surrender were a joke—she wanted a certain amount of money that ranked in the millions, as well as Killian to step down from his role of Eminence, and a bunch of other stuff that was never going to happen.

  I couldn’t help the snort that popped out of my mouth when I read it. I glanced up at Killian, who shook his head in a long-suffering way.

  “Queen Nyte wished to express that she will expect your answer within two days,” the courtier said. “Or else—”

  “That is unnecessary,” Killian interrupted. “I’ll give you my reply now. I look forward to meeting Queen Nyte and Consort Ira on the battlefield, and as the recipient of the declaration of a certamen, I will choose the place and time our duel will commence.”

  The fae bowed. “I will deliver the message as you have spoken.” Celestina opened the foyer door for her, revealing the team of vampires waiting to escort her off the property.

  The foyer practically whistled with the amount of whispering going on. A few fae slipped deeper into the mansion—probably to inform those who hadn’t seen the display.

  The Paragon popped out of the crowd like a groundhog and scurried his way up to us, eagerly rubbing his hands together. “That worked well,” he said. “You finally have your resolution!”

  “Yeah, now all we have to do is win a duel,” I dryly said.

  Killian held out his hand, so I gave him the letter. “It’s what we expected, and it’s a better scenario than an actual war,” he said. “Primarily because now we can finally—legally—crush Nyte.”

  Josh gave a happy sigh. “In preparation of the certamen, I’ll take an inventory of my weapon collection for the House Medeis wizards after the party.”

  I brightened. “That actually sounds great! We have weapons, but I’m pretty sure yours are a higher caliber.”

  Josh bowed his head. “I would be honored to inspect your collection and personally choose weapons for your people.”

  “After our first strategizing session,” Killian said. “For now, we have to proceed with the party. We wouldn’t want to appear worried over the likes of Nyte.”

  “Right you are,” the Paragon said.

  Killian stared at him. “Which is why you need to get lost.”

  “How could you say such a thing?”

  “You’re a fae. You could be taking information back to Queen Nyte.”

  “Oh, please,” the Paragon snorted. “You know I dislike her as much as you do. You’re fixing a problem I frankly didn’t want to get involved in. Good luck to you! But, I see your point. We’ll talk later.” The Paragon waved to us, then scurried off, disappearing back into the swirl of the party.

  He passed by Great Aunt Marraine, who was waddling toward me with great determination.

  I patted Killian’s arm. “You go ahead. I think I have some questions to answer.”

  “Good luck.” Killian leaned over and pressed his lips to my temple, and was then off. Gone before I could protest.

  “Hazel, did my old ears deceive me?” Great Aunt Marraine asked. “Are we really entering a certamen?”

  I smiled widely. “We are.”

  Two nights later, about half of House Medeis and twenty or so Drake vampires were closeted up in the dining room, which had been temporarily converted into the war strategizing room because it was the only place in the house with enough room that wasn’t obnoxiously large, like the ballroom.

  Killian stood next to a huge smart board—one of those electronically connected white boards, which had been installed that morning—and was reviewing some of the finer details of battle preparation for the group.

  “All vampire troops will be given a sample of Queen Nyte’s and Consort Ira’s scent, in hopes that it will make them easier to pick out,” Killian said.

  Tasha raised her hand and spoke only when Killian nodded. “Is it really necessary? Won’t we slaughter most of the troops?”

  I made a negative noise in the back of my throat, and my family shifted and balefully eyed our allies.

  When the vampires turned so they could look at me—I was sitting at the fringe of the wizard group—I straightened my shoulders and cleared my throat. “That’s not necessary, and it’s not how House Medeis operates. We’ll fight to win, but we’re not going to go in with the mindset of maximizing bloodshed.”

  “Agreed,” Killian said. “I’m not interested in upsetting the sensibilities of our fine allies.” He nodded at us wizards. “But it’s also not a good look on us. We’re going into a duel—something that hasn’t happened in the Midwest in a long time. Currently we have the moral advantage—Nyte challenged us after breaking deeply held Curia Cloisters laws. But if we create a bloodbath with our win, we’ll be hated.”

  The vampires looked thoughtful and satisfied enough with the explanation.

  “Because we have to be aware of the political ramifications of how we defeat the Night Court,” Killian continued, “we’re going to stack the deck in our favor both by our strategy, and by choosing the time and place of the battle.”

  A certamen wasn’t like a typical battle fought in a human war. It was supposed to be an alternative to war and gave two sides the chance to hammer at each other and find a decisive victor—presumably with some casualties, but not the mass bloodshed that would result from a full-on war.

  Because of supernaturals dying out, over a century ago our society came up with a bunch of rules and regulations for certamen that were supposed to minimize bloodshed and keep society more…polite.

  This meant we’d be dealing with a specific framework.

  After one Court/House/Pack/Family challenged another to a certamen, the accused were allowed to choose the time and place where the batt
le would take place. (I’m pretty sure the original creators of certamen were a bunch of crusty old British vampires who came up with these rules after living in a time of dueling, but it worked.)

  Allies weren’t always allowed to enter the battle—another attempt at minimizing bloodshed, and political consequences. But Queen Nyte—in her anger—had been stupid enough to declare a certamen on both the Drake Family and House Medeis by proxy. Probably because we wizards had so thoroughly trashed her people in the Curia Cloisters, and she wanted to prove she could effectively fight us.

  Gavino raised his hand. “We’ll be fighting at night, then?”

  “No. We have our wizard allies to think of, and they don’t see well in the dark.” Killian glanced at the smart board, which was currently displaying pictures of Queen Nyte and Consort Ira. “Ideally the fight will begin at sunset. It will give the wizards enough light to see by, and won’t hinder us much. But that will put a time limit on us. We’ll want to defeat Queen Nyte and her consort by the time night falls, or we’ll lose our advantage.”

  Now it was Celestina’s turn to raise her hand. (Not gonna lie, it was pretty cute to see Killian posing like a teacher and his vampires obediently raising their hands.)

  When Killian nodded, the First Knight stood. “It seems the best strategy will be to target Queen Nyte and Consort Ira, capture them, and demand their surrender?”

  “Indeed.” Killian casually rested his hand on the bottom rim of the whiteboard. “That is the tentative plan, given that it will provide the least bloodshed and the fastest win.”

  Mrs. Clark slowly raised her hand, sitting a little deeper in her chair when the vampires flicked their eyes in her direction.

  “Yes, Mrs. Clark,” Killian said.

  She straightened, her mouth making an ‘o’ shape in her surprise of Killian knowing her name.

  (I wasn’t surprised. Mr. Paranoid probably had flashcards made so he could recognize all of my people on sight. Which was kind of touching if you thought about it.)