Page 5 of The Unseelie Wish
Taking in a deep breath, she held it and let it out in a long rush. “I’m so fucked.”
Abigail laughed again, resting her hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Oh, dear girl. Shall we go somewhere more comfortable? I know it is quite early, but I feel as though you are in need of a drink.”
“If you’re going to kill me, I’d rather just know, please.” Alex kept rigid, not wanting to trust the woman, even if her smile was infectious and her eyes shimmered with mirth and kindness.
Never trust the fae.
Never. Trust. The. Fae.
She hadn’t learned the first time in dealing with Izael. She really, really had to beat that into her head this time with the goddamn Seelie-fucking-Queen.
“I do not wish to kill you, Alex.” Abigail’s smile faded slightly.
“That wasn’t a no. That was just you saying you don’t want to. Which is nice and all, but not what I asked.” Alex clenched her hands into fists in her lap. She could teleport away using her weird music magic, by just jumping tracks again—but something told her she wouldn’t be very good at hiding from Abigail.
“You must be giving Izael a run for his money. I love it.” Abigail chuckled. “And yes, you’re right—that is precisely what I said. I do not wish to kill you. And at this point in time, I have no reason to. But you must understand how…complex this situation is.” The Queen turned her attention to the splattered greenery that was once the soldiers. “A situation that has grown more complex in the past few minutes, I must admit.”
“I…” Alex paused. “I’m sorry.”
Abigail snorted. “Do not apologize for things that are not your fault. This magic of yours was not of your choosing. It is unlike anything I have seen in Tir n’Aill before—this place must find you intriguing to give you such a unique and dangerous power.”
“It kind of is my fault, though. I asked for it. I didn’t ask for this, specifically, but.” Alex scratched the back of her neck. “I’m not sure why I’m digging myself a deeper hole, either.”
“Because you figure that I already know or that it would be easy enough for me to find out the truth. Both of which are true, by the by.” Abigail stood with a grunt and brushed herself off. “Come! If you will not take wine, then perhaps—what is it you people drink these days? Coffee?”
Coffee sounded amazing. “I would like that. As long as it isn’t laced with arsenic.” It wasn’t like she trusted Abigail—she really didn’t. But she was the goddamn Seelie Queen, and there was no escaping the Seelie in the daylight of Tir n’Aill. This might be her best play, honestly.
Standing, she brushed herself off as well. She was surprised to see how short Abigail was—maybe came up to her shoulder or an inch more. She looked like a supernatural gardener, not royalty. Her music was all flutes and gentle strings. Folksy and warm.
It all made her instantly endearing.
Don’t get suckered in, you big, fat moron. You already did that once.
“You’re smart not to trust me. Not to trust anyone. Especially as I feel you are already once burned on that front.” Abigail shrugged. “But the fact of the matter is, dear, you are human in a world of creatures that would love to make you a snack. And I mean that in all meanings of the word.”
“Yeah.” Alex grimaced. “I got that sense from the Unseelie.”
“You have no idea.” Abigail sighed. “I had quite the arrival to this world. I had to adjust to all of it not too long ago, in the grand scheme of things. I know how it feels to be a fish out of water. Come.” She held out her hand to Alex. “Let us go.”
Well, she really didn’t have a choice. Alex put her hand in the Queen’s, and felt the world melt away from them as something took them. When they reappeared on the other side, Alex groaned and staggered. She felt weird. Extremely weird.
“Traveling through the roots can be unsettling at first. You get used to it.” Abigail was already walking away, heading toward a stone and plaster home that looked like it could have been transplanted straight from the English countryside, circa the 1700s. The roof was thatched, and there were wooden shutters hanging in charmingly lopsided fashion next to old, diamond-shaped glass paned windows.
Smoke was gently curling from the chimney.
Abigail opened the door and strolled in like she owned the place.
With a shrug, Alex followed. She had to duck under one of the beams in the home—and she really wasn’t that tall at all. “Is this your home?”
“Hardly fit for a Queen, I know.” Abigail smiled at Alex over her shoulder as she went to the fire to place a kettle of water on a hook that dangled from a cast iron crane. She pushed it over the fire to warm it. “I have several homes. This is simply one of my favorites.”
“Huh.”
“Reminds me of my own home when I was on Earth. When I was human, like you. Before I was taken.”
“By Valroy.”
“Mm.” Abigail’s shoulders sagged slightly before she shook her head. “It is quite the tale. Not one best told at the crack of dawn.” She paused. “Or sober.”