Chapter 47
I spend the next few minutes regaling the women with stories about my time with the Unseelie.
I share the lengths they’ve gone to eke out a life in a dying land, the way they find joy in the smallest of things, how most have no interest in war and only desire a decent life.
Of course, there are those who thirst for blood and vengeance.
I share that too. It’s the truth after all.
But that is not something unique to the Unseelie.
There will always be those with cruelty in their hearts who seek revenge for past slights, real or imagined.
In my world too, some seek to destroy and have hearts that lack compassion and empathy.
Those loud voices can drown out the quiet ones.
Unfortunately, they often do. But for every voice shouting for violence, there are many more wishing and praying for peace.
It’s a universal truth, one that applies to Seelie, Unseelie, and humans alike.
But there’s one bit of information I hold back, waiting until the kings arrive.
It’s something I didn’t realize on my own, but Matt put the pieces together when I told him my story a day ago.
Only a day, but it feels like so much more time has passed.
With his knowledge of Faery and fae history, he unlocked the missing piece I hadn’t seen, one that might truly move the kings if they will not heed the rest of my words or the thoughts of their queens, which I can see from the looks in their eyes, are turning to my side.
Lysandir, King of Fire, and Riven, King of the Forest, arrive almost at the same time.
Both are dressed for battle in impeccable metal armor that reflects the colors of their court.
The symbology is there too, with much of the metalwork on Riven’s armor appearing like leaves overlaid like scales with vines winding here and there.
Lysandir’s has the fluidity yet harsh points of flames, the golden and crimson shades fitting that image as well.
Their expressions are hard and stiff, as if I’m a fly that’s annoying them while they’re trying to focus on something important.
I guess I am, for now. But this fly will sting and bite to make them listen if I have to.
At least we learn that all-out battle has yet to begin. Little border skirmishes, few casualties. But the armies are gathered in sight of one another. Things could begin in earnest at any moment.
I recap the high notes with the kings. They listen, though there are plenty of frowns and doubtful looks, especially from Riven. He’s the more expressive of the two. Lysandir is far more difficult to read.
The women seem to be on my side, but I still feel like I’m trying to move a brick wall.
“Just tell them, Aims,” Matt whispers from my side.
The soft touch of his hand on my arm makes me realize that mine was shaking from where I clenched my fist so hard in my lap.
“The King of Air is not here yet.” I slowly uncurl my fingers as I speak then turn my palm over and grimace at the pink grooves from where my nails bit into the skin.
It’s not only that. The truth Matt puzzled out is the earth-shattering type, and worse, I haven’t had the chance to tell Elias about it.
Sharing such a big secret, one so personal to him and that he doesn’t even know himself, feels like a betrayal.
I hoped we might get to better footing without spilling it, but that doesn’t seem to be happening, and more than anything I need to stop this war before it escalates.
I’d rather beg Elias’s forgiveness later than wish I’d done more to stop the conflict.
“Tell us what?” Riven asks.
“Two out of three is better than none,” Matt adds.
I let out a ragged sigh. He’s right. It’s time.
I force myself to meet Riven’s piercing green gaze as I say, “Your mother, Evelyn, was captured by the Unseelie, correct?”
His features break into a snarl. “ That reminder is not helping you.”
“Not all Unseelie are good.” I quickly hold up my hands in a sign of surrender. “I experienced as much myself.” He starts to speak, but I hurry on. “But not all Seelie are either, as I’m sure you know.”
The king’s lips flatten into a line. Yes, he knows, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.
“Your mother had a sister, yes?” I say.
“Is this relevant?” Lysandir inquires. He doesn’t seem annoyed by the tangent exactly but rather is trying to keep us on topic.
“Quite,” I say. Then, to Riven, “She did, didn’t she?”
Surprisingly, it’s Solona who answers. “Yes. And a brother.”
Matt squeezes my arm, his body subtly bouncing with excitement, the same thrill rushing through my veins. We’re right. I know we are.
“Well, you’re not the only ones born to human mothers,” I gesture to the two kings.
Lysandir perks up at this, “You mean to say that the Unseelie King also had a human mother?”
“I do.”
He shares a look with Therin, who nods in return, answering whatever silent conversation they managed to have. “Such a child would be powerful. I wonder if that’s what triggered the magic to suddenly choose a new king after so long?”
“The king has a sister.” Therin rubs his arm with a grimace.
“Katiya,” Riven says. “The null.”
“Yes,” I say. “Also human-born. But Kallan and Katiya are the names that were given to them by their Unseelie father. Their mother named them for her siblings, Elias and Evelyn.”
Solona gasps. Galen curses. Riven goes stone still, not even blinking. Lia is by his side in a moment, eyes filled with concern.
“You mean that…” Solona trails off, hand coming to cover her mouth.
I nod into the sudden silence. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you first, Elias. “The Unseelie King’s mother was Esme, Evelyn’s sister.”
Riven shakes his head, denial written in his face. Lia clutches at his arm. “Riven?”
“No. My mother’s sister wasn’t with her. She went back, leaving my mother alone. That’s when she was caught by those Unseelie and—” He snarls, baring pointed fangs.
“That’s right,” Solona says. “She said her sister went home. But we never found the door they used. Eventually, Evelyn stopped looking.”
“She went home,” I agree. “But she came back.” There’s a heaviness in my chest as I share her tragic story, the kind that tries to steal my breath, almost like it wants to stay buried and never be spoken of.
It feels wrong to be the one sharing this tale, but it has to be me.
What was a tragedy may be able to finally be used for good.
“When her sister did not return, she couldn’t leave her behind.
But the Unseelie caught Esme before she ever found Evelyn. Different Unseelie, presumably.”
“Selena, do you know? Are they in any of the coven records?” Mira asks.
Selena shakes her head. “Not that I recall, but they may not have been part of a coven. I could check old missing persons records, if I had my laptop.” She grimaces then mumbles, “Can’t even Google things here.”
Matt nods in sympathy, probably thinking the same thing.
“You’re cousins,” Lia says to Riven.
He huffs. “Katiya tried to kill me.”
Therin mumbles something that sounds a lot like “same,” which earns a funny look from Matt, but I ignore them.
“They didn’t know,” I say. My chest draws tight at the admission. They still don’t.
“What if this is some kind of Unseelie trick?”
I whirl around in my chair toward Galen, who stands with his arms crossed and brows knitted.
“After all,” Galen says, “why would a human decide to stay with an Unseelie and bear them children?”
Ouch. Thanks a lot.
Sylvie gapes at him before whacking him hard on the shoulder. “Hush!”
Wren groans.
“What did I—” His face goes scarlet, eyes widening. “Shit. Sorry, I—”
“She didn’t,” I say. “Choose to stay, that is.”
At that, they all fall quiet again, the mood grim. Not a one of them needs to ask what I mean.
“But she loved her children, and they loved her,” I continue.
“That love is what made their power come alive, and it’s what made them who they are.
They will protect their people at any cost, even the loss of themselves, but they do not want war or death.
They just want a better life for those they love. ”
At that moment, the doors groan open wide, and Sigurd arrives, Hawke close on his heels. Finally.
“Sigurd!” Wren leaps to her feet.
He halts at her voice, grinning at her, but his smile dies as he takes in her expression. His mouth opens as if he might speak, but Wren beats him to it.
“Did Evelyn have a sister?” She plants her palms on the table, leaning forward with urgency.
The King of Air—dressed for battle in armor of blue and silver and styled from pieces hammered into sharp feathers—rocks back on his heels, blinking rapidly.
“Yes.” His gaze darts around the room, taking in its occupants.
“Did she ever tell you her sister’s name?” Riven asks, his voice thick with emotion.
The King of Air pauses for a moment, thoughtful. “Esme. Her name was Esme.”
An overwhelming surge of emotion crashes into me, and I nearly sob with the force of it.
“It’s true then,” Lysandir remarks, voice awed.
“What?” Sigurd asks, voice whip sharp. “What’s true?”
“Esme did not make it safely home as Evelyn thought,” Solona says. She touches the corner of one eye, as if removing a tear. “She was caught by the Unseelie and became the mother of the Unseelie King and his sister.”
“My…cousins,” Riven says, drawing out the word, tasting it.
Sigurd blinks rapidly and shakes his head with a shock. Finally, his shock ebbs and his gaze settles on me. “And you’re the mate of the Unseelie King. This is what you came to tell us?”
The sharpness of his regard sobers me up quick. “Among other things. But the point is, you’re more alike than you all knew, and they do not want a war.”
He laughs at that, shaking his head with a twisted smirk on his face. “Your mate and his army are at our borders. That is not the action of someone who does not want a war.”
Elias. The mere mention of him strikes my chest like a hot needle.
“They’re desperate,” I snap. “They don’t see any other way to survive.
Your scouts located their city, correct?
” The slight widening of his eyes is all the confirmation I need before I hurry on.
“They are compromised. Their children and the elderly. They cannot just bide their time and hope you don’t use that knowledge against them.
The king’s sword has been revived, and his power is at its strongest. He feels the need to strike now before it wanes, now that he…
” I pull in a steadying breath. “Now that he no longer has me.”
Sigurd’s sharp gaze narrows. “Hawke says the Unseelie King sent you away.”
“He did. To keep me safe.”
“At the risk of his own power?” Sigurd crosses his arms and cocks his head to the side.
“Yes.”
“He loves her,” Wren says to her mate.
Warmth rises unbidden to my cheeks.
Sigurd appears unmoved. “Enough to back down?”
“If there is a promise of peace?” I say. “I think so. If you will all agree to let them live in peace, I think I can stop this fight before it begins.”
“You want us to take you to him,” Lysandir says.
I stand. “Yes.”
“Aimee,” my brother gasps in concern, but I wave him off.
“If you will all agree to stop the fighting, I will go to him and tell him as much.” I stand a little straighter and raise my chin. “He wants peace. If he can have it, he will back down as well.”
“And those who follow him?” Riven asks.
I take a deep breath. “He is their king.” Not that that’s stopped them from questioning him thus far. “If his sword can open doorways to our world, he can certainly use it to keep his people in line.”
“If he were to one day be willing to share that power, it would be a boon to us all,” Lysandir remarks, looking thoughtful.
More doorways to Faery means more opportunity for humans to discover it. More humans mean more power and life. A tempting carrot. One I wish I’d thought to present myself.
I jiggle it further. “I think all kinds of incredible things could be possible if the Seelie and Unseelie could learn to get along.”
“This is risky, Aimee,” Matt warns quietly. Not the plan, he says in a pointed look.
He’s right. The plan was to lay out the information, to shove them toward peace as hard as we could. We never considered me walking out onto a literal battlefield with a white flag of truce, but here we are.
“It is,” I say, “but it’s a risk worth taking.”
Peace is a risk. It could go sour. It could lead to betrayal. But the upside? Worth it. And I’m doing this for so much more than just peace between people, I’m doing it for Elias.
This is all I have, the only way I can help him, and I would never ever back down from that.
Suddenly, Riven gasps, hunching over with a groan.
“Riven!” Lia grabs his arm.
“My king!” Sylvie and Galen are there in a heartbeat, ready to defend him from the invisible attacker.
Sigurd jolts, features flickering in confusion. “This feeling—”
“It’s my wards,” Riven grates out. “They’re—They just—” He slashes his hand down.
“Fuck!” Sigurd snaps.
The blood drains from my face, and I grab the edge of the table for support. Elias did this. He used his sword to cut through their wards. It’s the only explanation.
We are out of time.
“We have to go,” Sigurd snaps, his gaze panning to me. “They must have noticed that we left.” The skeptical glare in his eyes nearly makes me scream in frustration. I did not plan this!
“Mira, stay here where it’s safe,” Lysandir says. “Therin stay and guard—"
“No, I’m coming.” She scoffs, grabbing the spear she’d propped against the table at her side.
“But—”
“It’s the duty of the Queen of Fire to guard her people.” She holds her head high, the weapon planted before her, looking every bit the queen she is. “I have before, and I will again.”
Therin moves to her side in a visible show of support.
Lysandir’s lips draw thin, but he doesn’t argue. “I will guard you with my life.”
She smiles in return. “That’s my line.”
Searing intensity burns between them, and I have to look away but not before I hear him say, “Don’t you ever give your life for mine. I would not survive it.”
“Take me with you,” I shout to no one in particular. “This is it. This is your chance to choose peace.”
The royals of three Seelie courts all look to one another, no one speaking.
“Well,” I press. “Will you do it?”