Feversong (Fever #9)(88)

“That doesn’t excuse your actions. You could have simply given me the elixir. You didn’t have to rape me.”

“I caused you no harm. You experienced only pleasure at my hands. And I experienced enormous pleasure in yours. It was not the way I would have chosen it to be.”

“You think if a person is forced to orgasm during rape it’s not rape.” How wrong he was. Above me, thunder cracked and boomed, and I wondered if the weather was causing it, or me. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

“I am incapable of seeing it any other way. I am Fae, MacKayla. You know what I am. Do you seek my counsel? Shall I attend you?”

“You vanished last night, refusing us aid.”

“You do not see me. You have never seen me. To you, alone, will I give my aid. I have always offered it to you. I offer it now.”

“So you can get close to me, awaiting the opportunity to kill me.”

His eyes narrowed, locked with mine. “I would be your consort, your instructor, your lover. I would prove to you that I did not and never would harm you with my lust. Teach you as I once taught Aoibheal.”

“Who you also tried to kill.”

He smiled faintly. “She was not like you. You are the best of both worlds: the ice and power of a Fae queen, the passion and fire of a human. By the time she was queen, she’d been fully Fae for a long time.”

“Barrons is my consort.”

“Discard him. Choose me. I have always hungered for you. That was never a lie.”

“I will never choose you. I command you to aid me. I am your queen.”

“You are not my queen, nor was she. I am not of that puny race. I am Unseelie. Try again.” He smiled again, white teeth flashing in his dark chiseled face. “Unlike the Seelie, you do not know my True Name. You can never compel me. Merely request. I will be your ally. I will teach you all that I can about your newfound powers. But you must reward me.”

“What do you want?” Here it was: we were getting to the miracle it would take to wed him to my aim.

“First, you will restore my wings. Then once we have saved this world, you will willingly transfer the True Magic to me.”

“I could do that—restore your wings and transfer the queen’s power?” What else could I do? Fix a human heart?

He inclined his head imperiously.

“Wings only. After.”

“Unacceptable.”

“Then no.” Cruce in charge of the Fae? Cruce with at least part of the Sinsar Dubh, all the queen’s power, plus the song, assuming we managed to re-create it? What would keep him from wiping us all off the face of the Earth and taking it for himself?

He intuited my thoughts. “We will agree to a Compact, MacKayla. Fae rulers are bound irrevocably by such magic. You will find confirmation of the truth I speak within you. As queen, you possess, undiluted, all the knowledge, myths, and magic of our race.”

“Do I have her memories, too?”

“Memories are not transferred. The Fae already suffer an abundance of them.”

I exhaled a sigh of relief. Though part of me had hoped I had them, another part of me had dreaded feeling split again, divided by memories that were not my own.

“I will agree to remove my race from your world, MacKayla, without harming it, or anything on it, before we go.” He correctly interpreted the look on my face and added a haughty, “Or after, O Suspicious One. Or ever. I will agree to never return and your planet will be forbidden to all Fae for all time. You may have your brehon father draft the details of our Compact and your druids oversee the enforcing of it. MacKayla, by these pledges will I abide,” he intoned with the somber gravity of a vow.

I stared into his eyes, those madness-inducing Unseelie prince eyes, and was startled by the transparency therein. He wasn’t lying. If I agreed to his terms he would do everything he could to save our world, then once I transferred the queen’s power to him, he would take his race away and leave us in peace. Forever.

It wasn’t a bad deal.

In all honesty, after my encounter with the Spyrssidhe that morning, I didn’t want to be queen of the Tuatha De Danann. I still harbored hope that one day I might be “just Mac” again; undoubtedly a new and vastly improved Mac—but one without four feet of hair and the crushing responsibility for an entire race. When would I ever have time to see Barrons or my family and friends? Where would I live? In Faery half the time, a reluctant Persephone dividing her days between Heaven and Hell?

“Who better to rule them than me, MacKayla? There is no stronger, more powerful, ancient, and wise Fae than I. You heard the queen. She, herself, was considering me. We both know you do not wish to be one of us. You bear no favor for my people. I will aid you unstintingly, withholding nothing that is necessary to achieve the health and well-being of your world. Grant me the right to lead my race. It is all I have ever sought, indeed, all I have ever desired. I spoke the truth when I told you, as V’lane, that Cruce’s sole aim was to free my brethren and ensure the future of the Fae. At this moment both our races are in danger of extinction.”

“Actually, that’s not true. The queen may have irrevocably bound the power of the Fae to this planet, and your race will definitely die if the planet does, but humans can go live anywhere. Our existence isn’t dependent on magic buried inside a world. My race can be moved to another one,” I pointed out.