Page 27 of How to Claim A Shadow King

"I really wish you wouldn't talk about me like I'm not right here," I tell him, annoyed and too tired to continue to pretend to be nice. "I ran into the woods. I was assaulted by the foulest-looking creatures I've ever seen in my life, which frankly, I would prefer to never see again. I've been told I'm sort of a reincarnated witch, and I've had light blast from my pores, which makes no sense at all. And then there's a talking raven and a closet which insisted on dressing me." I pluck at my ruined dress mournfully. "It used to be nice," I mutter.

"You've been through a lot," Hash says agreeably. "So let me explain, because you all need to understand what's coming. Many centuries ago, Seelie and the Unseelie Fae were bound to another plane—the Underhill for the Unseelie."

Hash takes one of the goblets on the table and places it across from another goblet, as though he's demonstrating the locations of these places. As I watch, shadows begin to roil over the goblet he's deemed Unseelie, and the other goblet begins to shine with that sickly yellow.

"The Land of Never-Ending Summer for the Seelie Fae. When the Fae were bound, it was because their greed for expansion and conquest continued to grow to a point that their petty squabbles turned into war and made the rivers run red with blood."

The goblets both turn over at once, and thick, viscous, crimson fluid dribbles out of them.

"The witches of the Wild Oak Woods knew that it wouldn't be long before their war affected everyone in this plane, so they reached an agreement with the forces older even than the Fae themselves."

My gaze cuts to Malakai, who's still brooding in the corner, arms crossed over his muscled chest. When I glance back to Hash, he's smiling gently at me.

"You are from that very first bloodline of Wild Oak Woods witches, whether or not you remember your ancestors."

"They weren't just her ancestors," Malakai interrupts. "They are her. She is them reborn. They are the same soul, and it belongs to me."

I sigh heavily and put my forehead on the wood, pushing the plate of food back, all pretense of good manners gone in this moment. "Do you see what I'm dealing with?" I finally say into the hushed room.

"He's always been a lot," Hash agrees. "And you've always been enough to put him in his place."

"So you're saying that war between the Fae is coming again?" Wren says slowly.

"I knew it," Caelan says, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her close.

"I didn't know," Wren said. "The Seelie Queen asked me for a—I didn't know."

I turn my head, watching Wren's face drain of color.

"The Queen of the Seelie," Hash says carefully, "has never been the problem. Her king, on the other hand, undoubtedly is, as are the Unseelie. It doesn’t change the fact the only way to protect this plane, and the Wild Oak Woods, is to reseal the bonds and ensure that the Fae's growing power is matched by a power here as well."

“So the crown I made her…” Wren trails off, still pale.

“You are innocent in this,” Hash says kindly, then turns back to me with an expectant expression.

"So… I do have to marry him.” I feel sick again. "I have no choice in the matter."

"Of course you have a choice," Piper pipes up.

"If you're worried about there being another way, we'll find it,” Wren adds. Caelan strokes the side of her neck, and I try not to look at them.

I certainly don't dare glance at Malakai, but… I can feel the weight of his attention across every angle of my face.

The six of them begin talking across each other, the once-quiet dining room instantly dissolving into a frantic war room of theoretical magical craft.

"We don't need the Elder Gods to lock a door we can just bypass entirely," Wren insists, her fingers tapping a hyperactive, bossy rhythm against the tabletop. "Nerissa possesses the bloodline of the first weavers. If we pool our coven's core elements, we could manually re-stitch the local ley lines. We bypass the fated anchors entirely and build a localized grid using raw witch-magic."

“Ah yes, because your attempt at stitching me to you worked out exactly as you planned,” Caelan drawls, an amused look on his face. Wren turns bright red, and Piper snorts in amusement.

"Re-stitching a continental ley line without a divine battery will melt your nervous system, Wren," Hash chimes in cheerily, though his rakish eyes are dead serious as he breaks off another piece of meat pie. "But... if we are discussing highly dangerous alternatives, we could always infiltrate the Seelie Court. If we steal the golden bough from the king's personal vault, we could, theoretically, use Fae magic to force their own doors closed from the outside. It is a suicide mission, of course, but it completely leaves the Shadow King and your bonds out of the equation."

My coven has been my official family for less than two hours, and they are already casually planning to burglarize a celestial Fae palace just so I can avoid an eternity of marital bliss. I am deeply touched, and also mildly concerned for our collective lifespans. Malakai’s gaze is still hot on my face, and it’s getting harder to ignore him.

"What about a containment spell?" Piper suggests, leaning forward as Ga’Rek keeps his massive green arm anchored protectively around her shoulders. "I could bake something, a sausage roll, maybe, and we could use it to drug the Seelie and Unseelie Fae.”

“Ah, I don’t think that’s going to work, dear Piper,” Caelan says. “The Fae aren’t going to just easily pick up a simple sausage roll and be tricked into forgetting they want this plane.”

"Then I'll fight them myself," Ga’Rek rumbles, a low, terrifying vibration that sets the silverware rattling on our plates. The massive orc grins, his sharp tusks gleaming in the lamplight. "An army of elite Fae warriors still bleeds when an axe meets their ribs."