The Unseelie King (The Kings Book 6)

by Heather Killough-Walden

  Minerva ran that over in her head, and recognized where her unease was coming from.

  Caliban stood, coming to his bare feet with fluid grace. He sauntered to the stream’s edge and knelt down, his movements like those of a large cat. He pinned her with a hard look. “Minerva, if you’re worried that I’ve used you to replenish my power, you must realize that you took my magic as well.”

  She blinked. Then nodded.

  He smiled. “And that when we made love, I was already on full, so to speak.”

  That was true. She’d given him loads of power by emptying out those rubies. So then, what was troubling her?

  “Then why did our magic… do that?” she asked, thinking of how it had leaked out of them and mingled. “You said it only happened when necessary, but neither of us needed it.”

  His smile broadened, and he shook his head as if in wonder. “I’m not so sure you didn’t need it, to be honest. But why it blended the way it did? It’s as much a surprise to me as it is you. You’re my queen, Moonbeam. We were meant to be. It will always be different with us, most likely in more ways than we will ever discover.”

  That thought sent goose bumps across Minerva’s flesh, and a flush into her cheeks. She lowered herself a little further into the water and hid her gaze behind her lashes as relief flooded through her. She thought of the other women he’d taken to his bed, whoever they were. And knowing that he might have had a perfectly innocent reason for doing so, in so far as an unseelie could be innocent, was a load off her mind she hadn’t realized was so heavy.

  “Why didn’t I know all of this magic and sex stuff already?” she asked softly but aloud, giving voice to the other thing that was bothering her. She was confused by the fact that she knew some things about the fae realms, but clearly not everything.

  “My advisor, Drummar, seems to believe that it is because you are remembering things your mother told you or that you overheard her speak of when you were a babe.”

  She looked up now, instantly rapt. “How can that even be possible? Selene and I were babies when she left us.”

  “Fae are not like mortals, Minerva. We can do many things they cannot. Most likely, your mother told you stories, or perhaps spoke with other fae in your presence. You heard these things and you remember them. Your sister doesn’t, because even among twins, fae are unique. In that way, perhaps, we are somewhat similar to humans.”

  Minerva hugged herself and drifted a little, trying to remember her infancy. It was an impossible task, of course. No one could recall those first moments of their lives. Except… when she really tried, she could swear she heard… music.

  “She sang to me,” she whispered as the realization hit her like a Mac truck. It stole part of her breath, and she spoke very, very softly when she said, “It’s why I love music so much. My mother sang to me the stories of our people.”

  Caliban stood, and her gaze followed him up. He kept his eyes on hers as he unbuttoned his jeans, let them drop, and stepped out of them. She moved back a little when he lowered himself gracefully into the stream, but his arm reached out like lightning and snatched her back by her wrist.

  He pulled until she stumbled into him, then slid both arms around her so that she nestled contentedly against his chest, the warm water soothing them both.

  “You are full of surprises, Moonbeam.” His fingers ran lazily through her hair, brushing them from her cheek and forehead. “And your hair feels like spider’s silk.”

  “Cal… what if I can’t do this?”

  He pulled back slightly, and she looked up at him. His eyes flashed, a look of soft wonder subjugating his features. He cupped her cheek gently. “You already have,” he told her. “You’ve accepted your place.” He shook his head, and his smile spread reassuringly. “The rest will come as it needs to. Trust me.”

  “But, how can you be so sure? I had never even been to your realm before you took me there. Not that I remember, anyway.” She supposed her birth mother had lived in one of the three fae realms, and she doubted it had been the Goblin Kingdom. So it was technically possible she’d been in the Unseelie Realm before. But she would have been a newborn, and hearing someone talk about a land was quite different than experiencing it first hand.

  “Anything I know about it feels like knowledge gained by skimming an encyclopedia. You may as well throw me into the ocean and ask me to be the mermaid queen. I can’t take a position of monarchy over a land and people I know nothing about.”

  He was silent for a moment, his piercing eyes contemplative and searching. Suddenly, his gaze hardened. He dropped his hand. “Then I will show you.”

  Minerva frowned. “Show me?” Her voice sounded much smaller than she’d meant it to.

  “If you really believe you can’t be queen before you’ve had the grand tour, then so be it.”

  He raised his right hand and snapped his fingers. The sound echoed in her ears.

  Suddenly, Minerva was completely dry, and completely clothed. She inhaled sharply and stared wide-eyed at Caliban. He was now dressed in incredible finery, from white gloves to vest to jacket to what looked like genuine gemstones encrusted over his broad shoulders. The material was a thick, luxurious brocade in silver and black, and suited him like a glove. Formal wear fit for a king.

  In a kind of shock, Minerva stepped back, taking in their surroundings. They’d instantly transformed from the small, lush garden in the Twixt that she’d nicknamed her Wonderland to what looked like a ballroom or formal hall of some sort. The floor was marble, shot through with veins of multicolored gemstones and metals. Half a dozen thick, white marble columns supported a ceiling several tall stories above. At the floor’s center wound an enormous spiral of beaded glass mosaic featuring swirling designs that curled in toward the center of the room.

  Whatever room this was, it was gigantic, sumptuously decorated, and completely empty but for the two of them.

  She gave Caliban a bewildered look, which just made the bastard smile, and then she looked down at herself. Now she gasped again, stumbling backward some more. Her leather soles sounded out against the marble floor.

  Caliban caught her easily, his movement, as always, nearly so fast she could barely register it. His grip on her upper arms steadied her as he chuckled.

  “This is the castle’s Great Hall,” he told her.

  Minerva made a small sound, cleared her throat, and said, “Okay.”

  Now she knew where she was, but she was really paying attention to her gown. It was exquisite. Absolutely stunning. Minerva had never seen anything like it. Unlike Caliban’s outfit, which was mainly black with silver trim and brocade, Minerva’s was silver with black trim and brocade. They complimented one another to perfection.

  “It’s unbelievably beautiful,” she breathed, touching the material of her dress in reverence, and feeling that the description was inadequate.

  “Yes, it is,” he agreed. She looked up to find him watching her with wonder in his eyes. Their centers will still flickering with fire, appearing as if they would never extinguish again.

  “Will your eyes always burn?” she asked.

  “I’m afraid they will,” he said as he lifted a finger and ran it delicately across her bottom lip. “As long as you are mine.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The platform was called, simply, The Moving Floor, or Mover, for short. The marble and glass bead floor, which spread the span of an oversized ballroom, literally possessed the ability to leave the ground and soar over the lands of the Unseelie Kingdom as if it were a helicopter or jet plane. When it did so, it had no walls and no obvious means by which to keep people from falling off its edges. It was only a marble floor, upon which rested the same marble pillars it possessed now, and whatever furniture and accoutrements were appropriate for the event.

  The Mover was as ancient as the castle it had been created for. When the Unseelie King wished to utilize it, he had but to cast the proper spell. That was what he had done tonight, shortly after bring
ing Minerva back to the Great Hall.

  He’d called a handful of people to him, given them a series of orders, and then pulled her to the side to sit her down at a small round table for two. There, he’d settled her with a firm gaze and told her that if she wanted a tour, he would damn well give her one.

  At least, that was about how he’d put it:

  “I will show you the land and the people that you will be queen of, Minerva Trystaine,” he said calmly, but firmly, in that matter-of-fact way that brooked no argument and drove her a little insane.

  “I will show you things you never dreamed, and by the night’s end, you will wear your crown readily.” His voice lowered then, and his tone turned more serious. “But I must warn you, Moonbeam. The unseelie fae are not like the fae of my brother’s realm. Selene was able to be forthcoming about what she was. You, on the other hand, will need to keep your abilities as a Wisher to yourself. Until you wear your crown publicly, the unseelie will otherwise see you in one of three ways: as a terrifying enemy to destroy, a terrible power to exploit, or as a precious prize to win at all costs. Most likely a combination of two or more of the three. My people are, after all, known for their manipulations.”

  The warning had seared through Minerva in a strange way. It had scared her, yes. But it had also forced her ire to rise, and she could actually feel those blue flames leap to life in her eyes now. “I can handle myself,” she said. The prospect of ruling over an entire nation that saw her as something akin to a powder keg or nuclear warhead, something to be fought over but feared, was admittedly unsettling. But life was unsettling.

  Caliban rose from his chair. “Not that I for one moment doubt your capabilities, my queen,” he said as he placed his hands firmly on the table and leaned over until his face was inches from her own. She froze in that nearness, caught in another rogue wave of his fae power. “But for the time being, let’s not invite more trouble than necessary, agreed? Because if you unwittingly wreak ardent, lusty havoc, I promise you I will deal with the issue long before you do, and probably in a manner of which you will not approve.”

  It was a promise she absolutely believed then and there. It was sworn in the amethyst hardness of his eyes.

  “And I would rather not bury too many of our citizens tonight.” He straightened to that full, imposing height, and offered her his elbow. “Shall we?”

  In the minutes and hours that followed, it became clear to Minerva that the king intended to give her the most amazing tour of his land any fae had ever been given. It made her feel guilty. But it also made her excited. After all, what she’d said was true. She didn’t know this land, and she was being asked to rule it. Maybe this would be a very good thing. It would introduce her to the realm, and the realm to her.

  Within the course of a single hour, several notable people had taken Caliban’s orders and run with them. She’d been introduced to Thanaeryv Drummar, the Duwomm advisor to the king, whose wife was apparently responsible for most of the delicious food that would be served during the engagement tour-slash-party. Minerva had liked him at once, and she hoped it was mutual, because something about the old man made her very much want to have him as a friend.

  She’d also been introduced to Pi, the fire elemental, whom she found so freaking adorable, if he hadn’t been made of fire, she would have very much wanted to hold him. Of course, it wasn’t until after the little dancing flame had come and gone that Caliban informed her if she wanted to hold fire, she could do so quite easily. She was a fae, after all. And quite the powerful one, at that. “Everything will come with practice, love,” he’d told her with a promising smile.

  Titania, the fairy, had also taken orders from him, though she was quick to point out to him that she hadn’t needed to, since she can already automatically tell what it is her master and mistress need. But before Caliban could retort with any kind of warning, she’d flipped her blue hair over her shoulder and called to her a score of other servants who were obviously her underlings. Moments later, they were scurrying in a dozen different directions, busy coordinating the biggest party the realm had ever known.

  The cooks were preparing, magic spells were being cast, the Mover was being decorated, and it didn’t take long before Minerva all but forgot that someone out there somewhere wanted her dead.

  By the stroke of thirteen, the platform was completely ready for lift-off, in grand celebration of the formal engagement of the king and queen of the Unseelie Realm. Since, as he put it, he was not yet prepared to let her out of his sight, Minerva remained more or less at his side during these preparations. She looked on silently, with eyes she knew were way too large for her face, but that she could do nothing about. What was being revealed to her were scenes from a fantasy. They were the kinds of things graphic designers dreamed of one day creating with CGI, but that technology had not yet grown sophisticated enough to sculpt. She was walking through a forming dream, watching objects of the imagination being brought to impossible life.

  Every now and then, she would look away from the mesmerizing displays only to catch Caliban staring at her. Caught in the act, he would either shake his head in what looked like silent wonder, or he would lean over to place a kiss to her forehead, or he would reach out to take her hand and give it a squeeze. She’d known him a few days, but to Minerva, these were the actions of a couple that had known each other much, much longer. And they felt right.

  Every layer of glitz and glamour laid upon the next was more extravagant, more wondrous, and even more improbable, until the great hall smelled divinely of dozens of different forms of desserts, and fanciful footmen were ready to receive guests, and servants were lined up in their own finery, preparing to wait hand and foot on their royalty and the royal court. Hundreds of invitations had been automatically sent out to appear without delay in the homes of unseelie fae far and wide.

  At one point, someone in royal court clothing approached Caliban respectfully and informed him of a political matter that needed his attention. At the same time, Titania appeared before them and asked to borrow Minerva.

  Minerva smiled graciously, feeling as though she should allow Caliban to deal with whatever it was he needed to deal with alone. She nodded at the fairy and quickly followed her.

  As she left Caliban’s side, she could feel his power tugging reluctantly at her. It was almost a physical thing, like a magnet – or strong, silk ropes. She could feel a heat behind her, too, and she somehow recognized it as the king’s stark irritation. Instinctively, she used a bit of her own magic to sever the hold of his power around her. Then she looked back at him over her shoulder – to find his eyes ablaze, and the corners of his lips turned up in challenge. There was a promise in that gaze.

  She shivered, and turned away, noticing her mouth had gone dry.

  “We have to hurry,” Titania said quickly in her light, tinkling voice. “The first guests will arrive shortly.” She was leading her toward the dessert table. Minerva followed willingly.

  “How will they all arrive here so quickly?” she asked. She’d been wondering this anyway.

  “The Moving Floor picks them up,” the fairy replied distractedly. “Okay. Is this the dessert that mortals call mousse? One of the royal court members has been wanting to try it, but she’s never been in the mortal realm, so it was a little hard getting the info from her mind.”

  Minerva glanced at the dish and bit her lip. The crystal bowl was dusted with gold, the chocolate inside was cut into the shape of diamonds, and icing that appeared to have gemstone dust in it had been used as perfect, thin piping in exquisite, intricate design. There were layers to the dessert as well, each a different shade of chocolate. It was a display no mortal cook on Earth would have been capable of creating, especially in the time frame the fae cooks had been afforded, but it did look a little like chocolate mousse. It looked like chocolate mousse and a trillion bucks had gotten together and had a chocolate baby.

  “Um, yeah, that looks about right,” she replied, mystified. “What
do you mean the Mover picks them up?”

  Titania glanced back at her and giggled. “My lady, why do you think it’s called the Moving Floor?”

  The truth was, she had wondered, and her stomach had done a little flip-flop at the thought of an enormous, unprotected platform shaking free from its foundations and floating over the realm like a gigantic Frisbee. But she’d pushed it out of her mind and concentrated on everything else that was happening, which lucky for her, wasn’t that hard.

  “Because it flies around and picks people up,” she answered dully. Her gut tightened, and she absently pressed her hand to it.

  The fairy straightened, her expression growing concerned. “Oh, my lady, please don’t worry. There is absolutely nothing to be concerned about. The Mover is very, very old, and has been used by the king on hundreds of occasions. It’s perfectly safe, and I must tell you, it’s quite wonderful.” She grinned, winked a luminous pink-purple eye, and rocked forward onto her tiptoes. “Wait until you see your land from above. Especially at day break. There is no vision so breathtaking.”

  Minerva forced a smile and dropped her hand.

  Titania’s expression became serious then. She rested back on the soles of her feet and clasped her hands together in front of her. “You know… when there are matters of the realm that need a sovereign’s attention, you are as much entitled to handle them as the king. If not more so.”

  Minerva blinked. She glanced back over her shoulder to where Caliban and a group of other men stood. They were animated, raising their hands in earnest, their expressions troubled, their faces pale and taut with concern. He’d told her earlier that those particular fae were known as Lubraine. Like the Korred, they resembled humans but for one trait that set them apart. While the Korred possessed ears like elves’, in the Lubraine’s case, it was eyes that resembled cat’s eyes, with elongated pupils and yellow-gold irises.

  They looked troubled, but Caliban stood tall and confident, his mannerisms easy and controlled, and as Minerva looked on, the Lubraine calmed down, eventually even smiling and bowing low before they left.