The Unseelie King (The Kings Book 6)

by Heather Killough-Walden

  Selene stared into those piercing, bi-colored eyes, the eyes of a king, and she knew he was right. The murder of their parents had sent Minerva into some sort of… supernatural meltdown. She’d wreaked a kind of havoc before the Unseelie King, Avery’s brother, had apparently zeroed in on her and whisked her away from the mortal realm.

  Selene wondered what further damage she would have done if Caliban hadn’t come. Minerva had always had so much anger inside. She’d hidden it behind soft tones and shy glances, but she’d sung it between the soulful, beautiful notes of her songs, and Selene was her twin sister. She’d always known.

  There was an intensity to Minerva that almost no one seemed to have any longer. The world had grown larger and more shallow, like an ocean spread out over a vast desert, its depths destroyed so it could water the thirsty sand of a fruitless earth.

  Minerva felt everything. Selene understood this. To some degree, Selene was the same way, and always had been. But with Minnie, it was different. It was painful to an unfair degree. No one should ever have to feel the pain of others to that extent.

  It was no wonder to Selene that her sister had once tried to kill herself. Eventually, even the strongest of souls deserved to stop suffering.

  Selene wanted to be with her now, to comfort her and hold her. But Minnie wasn’t safe in this world. Or, rather, the world wasn’t safe right now with her in it. Not now that her Wisher powers had been set free. She had to deal with this elsewhere, in some realm where she could only do so much damage before she came to grips with the enormity of this situation.

  If there was anyone in the many worlds who could keep her safe, it was one of the Thirteen Kings. And if there was any one of the kings who would wish to keep her safe, it would be her destined mate. And there were so many forces out there who would do anything to get their hands on her before she took her place on her throne… no doubt, they were just waiting for Selene to do something foolish – like finally break down and attempt to find Minerva for them.

  Selene nodded at Avery, and pulled her gaze from his. Every time she did that, she could feel the hiccup in Avery’s power. He wasn’t used to people being able to break eye contact with him when he didn’t want them to. He wasn’t used to anyone being able to do anything he didn’t want them to. And every time she reminded him that she could do just that, it was like a poke in his well-muscled side. It was a reminder that she was the queen in this little chess game. And the queen had all the power on the board.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” she said, changing the subject in yet another attempt to get her mind off her sister. She concentrated on pulling a chunk of bread from one of the leftover breadsticks at the center of the table. “How many times are fae sighted by humans? I mean… you have portals and stuff, and you have for centuries. All those tales of sea monsters and Changelings and what not. How many are real?”

  “Well, first of all, we have portals and ‘stuff,’” he corrected her softly, smiling around his words. “You’re the queen, if you’ll recall. The Seelie Realm is just as much yours as it is mine, if not more so.” He gave her just a second to let that sink in, and Selene felt herself blush. “As to your question, to be honest, humans see us all the time. Our kind have become exponentially lax in hiding ourselves in the last few decades. We’ve been filmed and photographed countless times.”

  “You mean, like those films on YouTube?” She and her sister shared a fascination with the supernatural, with “sightings” of strange things, with unsolved mysteries. They always had. Now, of course, Selene understood why.

  Avery nodded, stealing the other end of her breadstick and popping it into his mouth. Clearly, he’d gotten over her little show of power very quickly. In fact, Selene sort of got the feeling that he was not only totally okay with her power, but a little turned on by it. Those purple-flecked green eyes of his were sparkling.

  “How many of them are real?”

  “It used to be a lot more; probably around eighty to ninety percent of them,” he said, just before waving the waiter over for the check. They’d been finished eating for at least an hour, but the restaurant was a fancy one, and waiters didn’t like to bother the clientele until the clientele decided it was time. “But human technology’s made it possible to create convincing images.”

  “Tell me about it.” Selene had always had a fascination with the supernatural, and she’d perused more than her fair share of online pics by people who claimed to have captured the real deal.

  Avery smiled, and his brightly hued eyes flashed secrets. “People are desperate for something to believe in.” The waiter came, presenting the check. Avery signed a receipt; apparently he had a card on file. Then he left money on the table, pushed out his chair, and stood.

  Selene stood with him. “So now, the video market is flooded with a lot more fabricated productions?” she wagered, following his line of reasoning.

  He nodded once, placing his hand at her back to lead her out. “And the number of bona fide sightings has gone down to slightly more than half.”

  Selene stopped in her tracks on the sidewalk just outside the restaurant’s door. “More than half?” She turned to face the fae king. “You mean to tell me more than fifty percent of what I find on YouTube is factual?” She shook her head, “No way.” She thought of all those video sightings of mermaids and sea monsters and UFO’s – hundreds of them – splattered across YouTube, and then compared them to what CGI creators could make happen on the big screen in movies from Harry Potter to Maleficent. They could do anything.

  Avery chuckled. “What?” he asked softly. “You don’t believe in mermaids?”

  Selene blinked. “How did you know I was thinking about mermaids?”

  “You look like a girl who really wants to believe in mermaids.”

  Selene’s gaze narrowed. “All you have to do is read the comments, and you’re reminded of how easy it is to fake this stuff. How do you know it’s the real thing? You can’t be everywhere at once.”

  “Can’t we?” His smile broadened, and Selene had that unsettling feeling that the shadows were watching her… and the walls and streets and rocks and trees.

  “Think about it,” he continued, wrapping his arm around her shoulder to lead her down the street and into the parking garage where they’d left her car. He normally chose to ride a motorcycle, but Selene was rather fond of her Mini, so she’d insisted they be mortals tonight and take it. “What would anyone intelligent do if they needed to keep something like this relatively secret?” he asked.

  Selene considered that. “There is no way to keep your secrets any longer.” Cell phone cameras were everywhere, and humans had gotten really fast at pressing those buttons. In fact, when anything dangerous or deadly happened any longer, people were more likely to pull out their phones in order to film rather than to call 9-1-1.

  “Nope,” Avery agreed. They reached the top level, and Selene fished out her keys. “There isn’t. So we do the next best thing. We’ve enlisted trolls – some of them actual trolls – around the world to leave comments on these sites, making certain human doubt stays right where we need it to. Nice and high.” He stopped at the car and waited for her to unlock it. Then he popped her door open for her, gesturing for her to get inside.

  His phone beeped, and Selene stepped back as he pulled the cell from his back pocket and glanced down at the screen.

  Hers beeped a moment later, and a dark feeling moved through Selene. She made eye contact with her mate, and unspoken messages passed between them. She popped open her handbag, pulled out her iPhone, and glanced at the screen.

  It was a text message from Evelynne D’Angelo, Roman D’Angelo’s wife and queen of the vampire nation.

  “Meeting is being called,” she mumbled.

  “And Lalura and Roman want the queens in attendance as well,” finished Avery.

  Selene processed that. There was so much to learn about the other kings and queens who made up the famous – and infamous �
�� “Thirteen.” For instance, the afore-mentioned “Time King.” Oh, the questions she had….

  Every once in a while, the reality of what she was and what was expected of her struck her in the face like a flat-handed slap, and she felt stunned. Like right now.

  It would all take some getting used to. But she was a quick study, and a strong woman, and the fates knew, she’d never, ever backed down from a challenge.

  Avery placed his phone back into his back pocket and looked around. She knew he was taking in how many people were in the parking lot and whether or not they would be seen stepping through a portal. The lot was on the top level of a multi-tiered parking garage, where few ever chose to park if they could help it, because people were generally lazy and because no one wished to expose their vehicles to the elements if it could be helped. Supernatural beings who could open portals often chose to park at the top levels for exactly such a reason; it provided necessary privacy in the event such a portal would be needed.

  “We’re all clear,” Selene said.

  Avery turned and raised his hand toward an empty space in the lot. The air began to spin, to glow, and to separate. When the portal was large enough for them to move through, Avery lowered his arm, grabbed her hand, and the two stepped through.

  The car behind them beeped twice, its headlights flashing as Selene re-locked it just before the portal closed, shutting them off in their journey to another place and time.

  Chapter Three

  “She’s composed of anger,” whispered Caliban.

  “As is proper for a Wisher, no?” came the weathered reply.

  Cal turned to the man who’d spoken. Thanaeryv Drummar was a blue-eyed man four and a half feet tall and as wrinkled as an aged apple. A white beard brushed Drummar’s slightly paunchy belly, which he staunchly blamed on his wife’s cooking, the only thing in any realm that could pull him from his job and had on many occasions. But she was an award-winning Duwomm cook, which were unabashedly the best in all the fae lands, and so Caliban could very much forgive this.

  The exceedingly old man had been his advisor for thousands of years, but time meant little to a fae. It was the wisdom in his eyes, the honesty in the depth of his tone, and the fact that this man had actually helped raise him – and had once literally died for him – that touched Caliban’s heart in a way little else in the realms could.

  Duwomm fae were inhabitants of the Twixt, that realm between the realms. They were born with two very long lives. Drummar had sacrificed one of his for Caliban when the Unseelie King was quite young and still more foolhardy than not. Caliban would never forget it, even though Drummar seemed to have done so.

  “But it’s different with her,” Cal insisted quietly. “She is not like her sister. She even knew who I was,” he said, turning to face his advisor, “and my weaknesses.”

  “Wishers are powerful fae, Caliban, with minds of steel,” said Drummar quietly, his voice as papery with age as Lalura Chantelle’s. “They can recall things they have only known fleetingly. It’s possible she is simply remembering what little knowledge of the fae realms she gleaned while in her mother’s womb, and while she was an infant in her mother’s arms. No doubt, her mother told her stories or sang her songs.”

  “Possibly. However, I don’t believe this knowledge was so intrinsic for her sister. Selene didn’t know Avery for who he was.” He shook his head. “For Minerva, it was immediate. She’s different.”

  “Not like her sister, eh?” Drummer asked, rubbing his chin in contemplation.

  Caliban, like any good fae king, came by his knowledge of what transpired in the fae realms through various channels. Elementals were a favorite form of spy, for instance. Air elementals could be anywhere at any time. Water and earth elementals were nearly as easy to call upon. In many situations, even fire elementals were useful. Then there were sprites, spriggans, trolls…. A veritable plethora of eyes and ears surrounded the world – and most of them reported to Caliban. But even so, they were not in all places at all times, so Caliban was lacking some information about the new Seelie Queen.

  He hadn’t had a chance to speak with his brother personally in days, and Avery was good at not being spied on. Cal was forced to make approximations. “From what I’ve gleaned, both Wishers possess surprising power. But beyond their shared empathy and kindness, they seem to be night and day.”

  The old advisor ran his knobby fingers through his very long, white beard and walked a few paces away in contemplation. “Yes, that makes sense.”

  Cal’s brow furrowed. “Oh?”

  Drummar turned back to face him and as he always did when he had to look up at his king, he tried to stand up a little straighter in his aged frame. “Twins among the fae must divide their strengths and weaknesses, their likes and dislikes, and their light and their darkness. It’s only natural that one would possess more of some of them than the other.”

  He nodded, mostly to himself, and stopped stroking his beard to hobble quickly past Caliban to a window on the other end of the Unseelie throne room. It looked out over a vast and strange land, filled with more wonders than most mortals could ever conceive. “Yes, I can see them now. I imagine young Selene Trystaine is like the full moon. She is visible, she shines bright, and as far as those around her are concerned, she would appear the stronger of the two.” The advisor turned to Caliban, and his blue eyes became steely with knowledge. “But Minerva is the dark side of the moon.”

  Caliban’s chin lifted slightly. He felt a chill move through him. And that was something he hadn’t felt in ages.

  “And we both know which one is truly more powerful, don’t we, my boy?”

  Caliban swallowed, his throat working against a sudden tightness. The moon was more than important to the fae, both seelie and unseelie alike. It was their banner, their symbol, their guide, their eternal token of faith. It rode upon their flags and armor for a reason. The moon was a part of them.

  The full moon was as Drummar had said. It was visible, comforting, and symbolic.

  But the dark of the moon…. The dark side was hidden. It was mysterious. Legend had it that the dark side of the moon was the source of unseelie magic. Untapped, it was the strongest magic in the fae realms. Un-disciplined, it was the most deadly.

  “Your queen’s magic is darkness, Caliban. She is your darkness. But because of her blood, its fuel is anger. She is a Wisher, and a Wisher’s power is in the seeking of vengeance. Injustice is its birthing bed.” The advisor shook his old head, and his expression became weary and disheartened. “Poor soul has never had a choice in how much pain she must feel. The darkness in her feeds off of it. It will die without it. And so, she has no recourse but to experience all agonies. Hers,” he said softly, “and everyone else’s.”

  Caliban felt odd standing there in the midst of this revelation. He imagined the untold sufferings that took place in the mortal world – and then, he imagined how Minerva must have felt suffering them right along with it.

  Every time a plane crashed, a child was killed, a girl raped, a family left without their homes or one another in the midst of a tyrant storm… she felt that loss, that indignity, and that terror. And beyond humanity, the suffering only continued, from slaughterhouses to hunting. The Shifter King, whose kind had been hunted to veritable extinction, could testify to that.

  Cal could imagine that before very long at all, Minerva would have shied heavily away from anything that exposed her to the pain around her. The news would never play on her television. She would never read the paper. She would have to find some way to hide from the gossip, from the headlines – from everything.

  The very soul of empathy. This was Minerva Trystaine.

  To be able to empathize with your fellow man made it possible to know how to reach them, to argue both sides, to become an effective case-maker, comforter, and friend. Empathy brought good deeds, to be sure. But no good deed goes unpunished. And kindness was a gift and a curse.

  “Let me see your wounds,” Drummar
said suddenly, slicing through Caliban’s thoughts. He looked up at his advisor’s request and met a steadfast, demanding gaze.

  It took a moment for the request to sink in before Caliban realized what Drummar was talking about. There was little point in voicing his next question, but Caliban had always been the stubborn kind. “How did you know?” he asked as he self-consciously touched his fingers to his chest, where Minerva’s attack had left him dearly wounded.

  “I know women,” the advisor replied easily with a slight shrug of his hunched shoulders.

  Cal took a deep breath. Fine, he thought. So what if the old man knows. Hell, he may know of some way to help me heal. He grasped the hem of his long-sleeved black shirt and lifted it to expose the red, angry markings where iron had made contact with his body.

  Drummar’s bushy white brows raised in keen interest. “I’m impressed,” he said, coming closer to get a better look. “And you’re sure you were fully clothed when this happened?”

  Caliban knew he was joking, but the jab did little to ease his unspoken, very real fears. Minerva had managed to sear his flesh by hurling objects at him so hard, they’d ripped right through his clothing. Telekinesis was a rare power for anyone, and for a Wisher, it came only after centuries of practice using unspoken wishes to manipulate the world around you. Minerva had done it in the blink of an eye, in a single heartbeat upon learning who and what she was.

  This was only a reminder of what Caliban was up against. It reinforced how powerful his fated queen was, as well as how much she clearly despised him.

  He dropped his shirt and turned away from Drummar to pace to the same window the advisor had been at a moment before. He looked out over his realm as he had a thousand-thousand times.

  “You’ll need to feed your magic if you want those to scar over,” said Drummar softly. But he was only telling Caliban something the king already knew. A seelie fae’s magic was replenished with innocent pleasures. Food. Drink. Candy. Sweets. Even wine. Chocolate was a favorite among them. Caliban’s brother, Avery, preferred beer.