Page 41 of The Unseelie Wish
“But they aren’t gone.”
“No.” Those teal eyes watched her for a moment. “I will release them for you, if that’s what you want. If it’ll prove to you that I love you.”
Blinking, she studied him in return. Proof. Was that what she was after? Now that he presented her with that, it felt wrong, somehow. Not releasing the trapped souls—that was a good thing without a doubt. But providing proof of his love just felt cold to her. And nigh impossible. “I don’t want you to release them to prove anything. I want you to release them because it’s horrifying that you have a collection people’s souls being neglected.”
“I’m not a monster!” He huffed in fake indignation. “I dust them regularly.”
That made her laugh and she felt like an asshole because of it. She was laughing at the suffering of others.
I just wish?—
No. No! No, no, no. She slammed the door on that. She didn’t even let herself finish the thought. Swallowing down whatever traitorous impulse was about to hit her, she blamed the moonshine.
“War. Death. Enslavement. That’s the cost of us being together. How can I accept that you love me, how can I even try to consider how I feel about you, when that’s what’s at stake? I’m not even talking about myself—I’m talking about everybody. Every fae. Every human.” Staring down at her can of seltzer, she spun it between her fingers. “If it were just me, that’d be one thing. Still horrifying and terrible. But it’d just be me.”
“Which is why you have to use your wish to love me. Because then, all of what will come next, won’t matter.” He smiled, as if his statement were both extremely obvious, perfectly benign, and wonderfully helpful. It was none of those things.
“It’s love, not brainwashing. Just because I’d be magically forced to love you doesn’t mean I’d stop caring about the fallout. That’s not how it works.”
“Humans are so strange.” He paused for a moment. “But I hate to break it to you, songbird—but it’s too late. You can’t not make a wish. We’ve gone too far already.”
“Yeah. I can. That’s the whole point of the game. You haven’t won yet.” She shot him another look. “Don’t assume you will.”
“We’ll see. You really don’t have any other choice.”
“I do. If I don’t make a wish, I win. And I can’t make a wish with everything riding on it.” That, she was certain of. The cost gave her no other choice.
“You are so wonderfully stubborn. I love it.” Grinning, he sat back in his chair. “But don’t you realize what’s really happening?”
“I—” She blinked. “What?”
Laughing quietly, Izael stood from his chair, taking the box of chicken wings with him, and paced across the room. “I didn’t want to point this out. I really didn’t. But I believe in your conviction, so now I have no other choice. Why do you think I really agreed to bring you to the Hartsblood to give you fae magic?”
“It was because—” She stopped. And then swore. Loud enough to wake the cat.
Izael pointed at her. “There it is.”
“You fucker.”
He laughed louder. “Don’t be such a sore loser!” His smile turned devilish. “You are so very cute when you’re mad, though.”
Her magic tied her to Tir n’Aill. One way or another. Even if she won the bet, she would be on Earth with fae magic. That meant that she would still be linked to them. “There’ve been humans with fae magic before, though, right?”
“Oh, absolutely. And do you know what happens to them when they die?” He walked back up to her languidly, before sitting beside her and draping an arm over her shoulders. “Their souls join the Hartsblood. That is, if they don’t have anywhere better to go.”
“You piece of shit!” Standing, she brushed his arm off and whirled to glower down at him. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you warn me? I never would have done it if I knew it—” Stopping, she placed her hands over her eyes. “I’m so stupid.”
“If you knew it had a cost? Everything has a cost, songbird. Especially in the world of the fae. You never asked.”
“Fuck. Fuck.” It also meant her power was derived from souls. Soylent Magic is people.
“So, you might as well wish to love me and give me your soul, unless you want to go exist with your individuality stripped away.” He put his feet on the coffee table and crossed his legs at the ankles, arms draped now over the back of the sofa. “Better to be mine than nothing at all. And if you think the others will leave you alone—you, a human, with the power to unleash chaos? You’re wrong. Valroy would come for you. And if not him, Abigail. And if not them, any other Duke or Earl or Countess with a hunger for power. With me, you are protected. You are loved. You are cherished. With them…? Well, all bets are off.” His smile was victorious. “Accept it. You’ve lost.”
“Every time I think you’ve hit rock bottom you go and somehow manage to make it worse.” Turning, she stormed toward the bedroom. She needed to take a long shower and think.
“So…sex is out?”
Her answer to him was a slam of the bedroom door hard enough a painting fell off the wall in the hallway. She couldn’t have cared less.