The Shadow King (The Kings Book 7)

by Heather Killough-Walden

  “That’s… a rather complicated question to answer,” he said as he walked slowly back into the room.

  But in a display that clearly illustrated the famous strength and agility of the Tuath, she limberly jumped backward onto the bed and held her right hand out toward him in a fist, bringing him to a very fast halt in his tracks.

  “No, it isn’t complicated at all, actually,” she told him, her tone having dropped into a veritable threat. “You just open your lips and blow through them. Like you’re doing now.” Her magic pulsed out for a moment, its arms like tentacles that brushed against him. “Just make sure it isn’t hot air or smoke you’re blowing, gorgeous, or I will blow you to smithereens.”

  Keeran looked from her to her hand, and his expression turned grim. He would wager, just then, that another spell like the one she’d cast earlier would indeed make for a bad situation, but not at all in the way she believed.

  And of course, he didn’t fail to notice that she had called him gorgeous.

  He slowly raised his hands in a calming gesture. “Alright,” he said placatingly. “At the moment, I just want to talk.”

  “I’m unseelie,” she said coldly. “I’ve been around long enough to know that line is a lie.”

  “This time, it’s true.” Well, mostly. There were other things he could think of doing, too. And many, he swore he would do soon. But talking was an acceptable start. “You have questions, and I have answers,” he told her. That much was definitely true.

  She didn’t say anything, and he went on.

  “You’re wondering what happened in the Underground last night. Who those men were. How they’d managed to follow you across an entire realm into the Twixt, and why they would even bother.”

  She blinked, glanced away for a fraction of a second as she thought about what he was saying, and then pinned him with distrust again.

  “You’re also wondering how I got rid of them, and why I would even bother.”

  Another pause of silence, but he was taking her non-interruptions as a good sign, and a signal to keep going.

  “And I know you’re more than a little curious about what just happened to you in the forest. With that very powerful spell you so foolishly cast.”

  Now her gaze narrowed. “It worked, didn’t it?”

  “Indeed, but at what cost?”

  She’d been completely vulnerable to him for long enough that if he’d had ulterior motives, she would be dead now. But she didn’t need him to point that out. She was smart enough to realize that there was a slice of time she couldn’t account for. She had blacked out, so to speak. Her memory went blank in the clearing, and started up again in his bedroom. That had to make her distinctly uncomfortable.

  Now that her expression was rapidly becoming more uncertain and embarrassed than angry and threatening, he thought fast, constructing every one of his next words with careful precision. “Listen. You’re going into the Dark.” He lowered his hands - slowly. “I know that. And I would very much like to accompany you.”

  Her look of mistrust was back, and she still made no moves to lower her own hand, which was a lethal weapon if ever there was one.

  But he smiled a decidedly friendly smile. “You’re going because of your sister. Isn’t that right?”

  Now the silence grew pregnant with implication as she digested the fact that what he’d just said proved he not only knew who she was, but knew of her sister, knew her sister’s current dire situation, and knew that Violet was headed into the Dark to save her.

  “Okay,” she finally demanded. “Who the hell are you?”

  And there it was at last. The “who are you” that she probably should have asked to begin with.

  “I’m Keeran.” He gestured to the room around them. “This is my home.”

  She shook her head. “You’ve just told me absolutely noth-” But she stopped mid-word, and her beautiful features changed expressions with gradually dawning recognition. “Wait… do you mean….” She swallowed hard and the blood drained form her face. “The Keeran?” she whispered.

  Years ago, Keeran had enjoyed a few free minutes by reading a book called The Kobayashi Maru, in which the ridiculously famous Captain James T. Kirk of Star Trek is actually still a cadet in Starfleet Academy. In the book, he is forced to take a test in which there are no winning scenarios, as it is required of all cadets. But being the precocious kid he was, Kirk had hated the idea of an un-winnable situation. His answer had been to simply reprogram the test.

  When his time came to take the infamous exam, he played along as usual, and everything seemed on par. That is, until the “bad guys” in the scenario approached the ship he was captaining and asked him for his name. He told them, “James T. Kirk.” Their response, rather than to proceed shooting him out of the sky, was to look shocked – nay, terrified.

  “The James T. Kirk?” the other captain had asked with a tremor.

  That celebrated moment in Star Trek literature had made every reader of the Kobayashi Maru laugh riotously. Keeran was reminded of that scene now, as Violet asked him the same essential question, and with the same look of utter fear on her face.

  So he played it to the hilt and grinned rakishly, just like Kirk. It was all the answer she needed.

  At once, she leapt off his bed, and lowered her threatening hand. “You’re the Shadow King.” Her voice sounded numb.

  “I’m afraid I am.”

  “I didn’t know. I mean….” But then she looked thoughtful, and just like that, all traces of her guilt were gone. “Wait, are you Shadenigma as well?”

  He nodded. “Guilty.”

  She seemed to process that for a minute, then, deciding that forthrightness was the best way to go about things no matter what, she said, “Forgive me for asking, but… why would one of the Thirteen Kings be interested in creating video games?”

  “So you want to talk after all.”

  He could see her suddenly bite her cheek. She blushed a little and looked away. “Okay, yeah, I guess I do.”

  “Very well, then. We’ll talk over coffee.” He turned again toward the door, opened it, and left it open for her to follow him out. He looked back over his shoulder. She was still standing in the same place. “I’m sorry. I should have asked,” he said suavely. “You don’t mind coffee, do you?”

  She smiled with a touch of self-deprecation. She’d clearly forgotten everything she’d said to him in her moment of anti-lucidity, including the bit about being addicted to coffee.

  “Not at all,” she said.

  Chapter Fourteen

  From the moment she’d cast Lovelace’s Separation spell, Violet’s mind had been in a state of turmoil. It started the exact second she released the spell’s magic and it hadn’t let up yet.

  It was discombobulating, and if she hadn’t been a Tuath, and if she hadn’t been filled with very powerful magic, she imagined she’d not only be a little queasy right now, but have a headache to rival one of Poppy’s migraines. As it was, she was uncomfortable. In several different ways.

  When she’d cast Lovelace’s invocation, she’d been expecting something strong. What she hadn’t expected was that every ounce of her own power would be drained from her body and forced into the spell – then replaced with something else. The words Lovelace had written were that powerful. The warlock had been that strong. And now her own warlock instincts were telling Violet that the dark, sparkling force swimming through the blood stream of her spirit just then was none other than the power once wielded by the long-dead mage.

  I have his magic.

  It was a thought that went recurring through her muddled-up mind, speeding through her thoughts right alongside several others, such as, Where the hell am I? Which she asked when she found herself on a massive black bed covered in silks and satins fit for royalty. And there was also, What the hell happened? just seconds later. And, more recently, Why is the king of the Shadow Realm helping me? Why did he send me that necklace?

  The necklace that I’
m wearing right now and that I put on the moment Poppy wasn’t looking….

  Had he seen it? Some time between casting the spell and now?

  She’d known she shouldn’t wear it. The man who’d given it to her was a complete stranger. He wasn’t human. He knew way too much about her. The fact that he’d sent her the acorn pendant was proof that he’d “studied up” on her to some extent, because he knew where the hell to send it. Maybe he was a stalker! He was probably dangerous!

  Oh, he’s definitely dangerous, she thought now as she eyed him warily.

  But he’d also saved her life, and the second she saw the acorn, she knew what it was. It was an acorn diamond from a Diamond Oak – so very rare, so very precious…. She guessed she was just like her sister Dahlia in one respect at least, because the Tuath in her couldn’t help but put it on. Dahlia was a magpie big time. The Tuath fae, both seelie and unseelie, were a little like dragons in that respect. Few of them could withstand the power of something so incredibly sparkly, Violet included.

  So she’d covertly slipped the pendant on, assuming that whoever her gifter was, she would figure it out later.

  Boy, was I right about that.

  Somewhere between casting the spell and regaining full-on consciousness in the Shadow King’s bedroom, she had been at his ultimate mercy. Had he carried her there? Had she walked with him? Had she talked while she walked? If so, what had she said?

  She bit her lip and ruminated endlessly as the king moved them like dreams through the shadows. The experience of traveling this way was a unique one to Violet. Moving through shadows was similar to moving through regular portals, but for a few differences. Normal magical portals were called up and could appear anywhere. Shadow portals were already and permanently in place, and you had to know how to get to them, which the Shadow King obviously did. There was also a cool breeze, like stepping out from a stuffy house into an autumn night. She was grateful for that just then, as she was feeling a little too warm.

  It smelled good in the shadows too, though that would have been impossible to explain. But to Violet, with that super sniffer of hers, it was the same kind of scent as rain – just different. It was a clean scent.

  The shadows seemed to her like new beginnings. Like hope, and possibilities, like a blackboard before chalk touched it. Anything could happen in the shadows.

  Hopefully I was just asleep, she thought, returning full-circle to her worry about what happened after she had cast that damned spell. Hopefully, she’d just been knocked flat on her ass by the strength of it, and there hadn’t been any exchange at all between her and the king beside her.

  It worked, though, she thought as a shadow breeze brushed through the long strands of her hair and caressed her skin. The men who’d attacked her in the Underground and then cornered her in the Twixt… well, she could just remember enough to know they’d been destroyed. At least, they’d been dismantled. When the magic slammed into them, they’d been hit with it like a shockwave. Then, as if they were made of nothing more than compacted dust, they exploded into clouds of shimmering darkness that dispersed into the night.

  And that was all she could remember.

  Note to self, she thought, looking sidelong at her companion. No more of Lovelace’s magic.

  It was strong, but there were too many consequences. And there was the matter of his magic replacing her own. Would she ever get hers back? She was frankly frightened by how intense it felt inside her.

  She was far too aware of herself. She could feel every one of her nerve endings firing off like sparklers. She felt a little too warm, and her mouth was watering. And her breathing was shallow. And her gut was clenching. And her nipples were painfully hard –

  Violet’s eyes grew very wide. She realized, all at once, that she’d been staring at the Shadow King for too long. She hadn’t been consciously aware of it, but she’d tracked the graceful, strong movements of his tall body, like a beast on the prowl, some kind of wolf in the night. She noted the way his magic moved with him as if it were a second skin, the way he commanded exact power over his circumstances and surroundings as if it came so naturally, he didn’t even have to think about it. She’d “unconsciously” noticed the perfect shoulder length of his very, very black hair, the way it shimmered with softness that begged to be touched, and the way it brushed his broad shoulders. She’d taken in the strong angle of his chin and its five-o-clock shadow that made him look careless. Not like a royal… but a rake.

  And those eyes….

  Those eyes that are looking at me right now!

  With an internal curse, she forced an innocent smile to her face and prayed he wouldn’t notice that she’d been staring.

  But if he noticed, he spared her feelings with timely grace by gesturing to the world that came into view beyond his final shadow portal. “We’re here.”

  She made a sheepish face and stepped through the portal, but her mind was reeling. That voice! she thought helplessly. Gods, what a sexy voice! Every time he talked to her, she felt it. Other than the sheer clout of his power, that was probably the aspect of the king that had the most effect upon her. He had an un-placeable accent, one that reminded her of men who wanted to take over the world, and hot, wicked nights. It was the sound of wealth and sophistication, of secrets – and yes, of darkness. When he spoke to her, it felt as if his words were stripping her of her clothes and wrapping her in his bed sheets. Which she happened to know first-hand were extraordinarily silky.

  Oh, mother hell.

  She mentally kicked herself with violent fervor as she moved into the mortal realm. Keeran stepped out behind her; she could feel his substantial presence at her back. Then she heard the portal shrink shut behind them both.

  The roastery was closed. It was the middle of the night, and probably the only time the Starbucks shop possessed the genuine steampunk, old-timey ambience it was envisioned to possess. No one was there with laptops or Converses, no one was there with digital cameras or cell phones, and no one was buying or selling anything.

  “We’re in the Starbucks Reserve Roastery and Tasting Room,” she said softly, looking around at the gold and copper piping and wondering at how very, very quiet it was without the constant buzz, chatter and clink of patrons buying, eating, and working.

  The fires in those amazing fireplaces they had leapt to life, instantly shedding a soft, inviting light into the room. Keeran glanced at the windows, and as she watched, the glass began to go black, darkening as if it were covered with tinting plastic. Within seconds, she and the Shadow King were completely shielded in privacy.

  “What can I get you?” he asked, smiling as he turned to her.

  Violet steadfastly subdued the shiver that threatened to go through her. “Anything?” she asked, but then she felt stupid for asking. Of course she could pick anything. He was the Shadow King. Who knew what kinds of powers he had?

  But he just continued to smile that drop-dead sexy smile of his and made his way behind the main counter at the center of the enormous coffee shop. “Anything.”

  Okay, she thought. “I’ll take a quad-venti, sugar-free, rainbow-chocolate mocha with whipped cream, pixie dust, and candy butterflies.”

  “Done.” Keeran looked completely un-fazed as he proceeded to do something behind the counter that she couldn’t see. He was intent on his work, and Violet was not only shocked that he was willing to create something so outrageous, she was a little put out that he hadn’t even batted an eye at the request.

  Rainbow chocolate was a fae treat that possessed all the types of chocolate from white to dark, and in which you could individually taste each one with every bite. It was a spell-created delicacy that cost a small fortune, even for the Tuath. The fact that she’d asked for it sugar-free was just her attempt at making it ridiculously difficult. As to the pixie dust – that didn’t really exist. And the candy butterflies? She’d asked for simply because they sounded both beautiful and challenging.

  As he worked, Violet approached the c
ounter, hoping to get a peek at what he was doing. But by the time she’d fully reached it and was leaning forward to peer over the edge, he was straightening to place a drink in front of her.

  She backed up and looked down at it.

  It was a mountain of a drink, lovely beyond compare.

  “Holy wow,” she whispered. It was exactly what she’d asked for, though she was only guessing that it was also sugar-free. The rainbow chocolate, she recognized at once by its scent. The whipped cream was a perfectly formed cone of creamy white, and there were tiny butterfly sprinkles all over it. They were Monarch butterflies, brightly colored with miniscule precision.

  But most amazing to Violet was the delicate shimmer of gold and green that looked like glow-in-the-dark micro-glitter all over the whipped cream.

  Pixie dust.

  Chapter Fifteen

  If actual pixie dust hadn’t existed before, she supposed it did now, whatever it was. As far as she was concerned, it was simply magic made tangible. That’s what it looked like, too.

  Her lips slid into a soft smile.

  The coffee smelled divine, like the best kind of coffee and the best kind of chocolate and a warm, welcome flavor on the bitterest of nights. Before she knew what she was doing, she’d grabbed the mug and lifted it to her lips to inhale. She closed her eyes, stuffed her face right into the whipped cream, and dug down until she found hot, steaming liquid.

  She was fortunate that the coffee was neither too hot nor too cold, because without giving pause to a possible burn, she took a great big gulp of it. It slid over her tongue in a spectrum of flavors that caressed her taste buds and sent signals of bliss directly to certain areas of her body. She suppressed a shiver of deliciousness and took several more deliberately slow swallows.

  When she finally pulled the mug away and licked her lips, she found the Shadow King leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, smiling like the cat who’d just eaten the canary.