Page 50 of The Unseelie War
“I do notcarewhat happens to us once these worlds burn, Duke of Bones. I do notcarewhat becomes of the Unseelie once my war concludes. And I never have.” Valroy chuckled, enjoying the sheer disbelief on the duke’s face. “It has never been my goal to establish some manner of…dark utopia.” He gestured aimlessly. “The humans deserve our wrath. The Seelie must be brought low, as they stand in our way. But have I ever once laid claim to any other desire besides that for the war itself? No. So speak not to me of damnation.” He snorted, shaking his head. “Your argument falls upon deaf ears. Oblivion is my goal.”
“You will lose the support of the others.” Izael’s growing horror was delectable. “They willneversupport you in this regard once they learn you plan to abandon them to a world left in ruin once you are done.”
“Are you so certain of that?” Valroy stepped closer to him. “Creatures such as I, such as they, we care nothing for what follows. Onlyfor the destruction we wreak. Only for the hatred we are allowed to act upon.”
“You’re wrong.” But the snake suddenly did not seem so sure of himself.
Turning to address the gathered forces, he raised his voice. “Unseelie! Creatures of fang and shadow, of wrath and ruin. Itappearswe have some amongst us who believe our enemies deserve more consideration.” He couldn’t help but press his palm to his chest in deep irony. “One who would see us return to the shadows and consider our ownimmortal soulsbefore we exterminate all those who stand before us. I ask, what say you all? Should we feed the thirsty ground with blood for blood’s sake? Or shall we retreat and pray for peace?”
A low growl ran through the assembled creatures. These beings had flocked to his banner preciselybecausethey were tired of hiding, tired of apologizing for their nature, or tired of pretending that coexistence was possible with creatures who saw them as aberrations.
“Tonight we bring death. Not for glory. Not for revenge. But for the beauty of it all!” Valroy felt an intoxicating rush flow through him as sounds of agreement echoed across the hillside. This was what he had been born for—not the careful political maneuvering of court life, but this moment of pure purpose when all pretense fell away.
“Tonight,” he declared, spreading his wings to their full magnificent span, “we remind the world what happens when predators remember their nature. Tonight, we remind the humans what it meant tofear the dark!”
The roar that answered him was deafening, a sound of pure hunger and barely restrained violence that sent tremors through the merged earth beneath their feet. In the distance, he could see lights flashing in the human outpost as their enemies scrambled to respond to the obvious threat massing above them.
But when he turned back to Izael, the younger fae's expressionhadn't changed. If anything, he looked saddened by the display. “There is no deterring you.”
“You will not believe me when I say I do honestly respect your attempt.” Valroy smirked. “But you never stood a chance at success.”
“Yeah. I know.” Izael sniffed dismissively. “I still had to try.”
“Now you sound like my lovely wife.” He was both glad and disappointed that Abigail was missing this moment. Glad that his wife was not there to interrupt him. But disappointed she was not enrobed in iron chains as his captive, forced to watch him in his purest form. “But tell me this, Izael.” He gestured toward the outpost, where the humans were clearly preparing for siege warfare. “Look at them down there. Do you see any white flags? Any emissaries coming forth to discuss terms? They know what we are, what we are capable of, and their response is not negotiation—it is not to beg for mercy. It is, in turn, preparation for war.”
A distant explosion echoed across the landscape—one of his advance scouts testing the humans' defenses, no doubt. The sound sent a thrill of anticipation through Valroy.
He turned away from Izael, his attention shifting to the tactical situation below. “Remember this, Izael. The question is not about what I have become. It never is. The question is simply about whether or not you have the courage to do what you feel must be done about it.”
Another explosion, closer this time. The humans were getting nervous, firing at shadows and suspicious movements in the growing darkness. Their fear was palpable now, a tangible thing that made the very air taste sweeter.
“Cruinn,” Valroy called out, not bothering to look back at the shapeshifter. “Signal the flanking forces. I want them in position now.”
“Yes, my lord.” But even Cruinn's voice carried a note of uncertainty now, influenced no doubt by Izael's pointed questions about the so-calledrighteousnessof their cause. And Cruinn and Bayodan had already betrayed him once before in his life. Cruinn was so soft-hearted for an Unseelie. They were too easily swayed.And where went Cruinn, went Bayodan. And where went Bayodan went too many others.
Damnablefeelings.
Damnablemorals.
Damnabledoubt.
The most insidious poison in any army's arsenal, and Izael was spreading it now by simply existing. By standing there, reminding everyone present that there might be other ways to handle their situation.
Ways that didn't require wholesale slaughter.
Ways that might preserve something resembling their souls.
Valroy felt his irritation spike into genuine anger. This was exactly why he hated politics. Because occasionally, now and then, one came across an idealist. And idealists were irritating—not because they could stop him with force, but because they made others question whether heshouldbe stopped. They planted seeds of doubt that could grow into full rebellion if left unchecked.
“Izael,” he said softly, his back still turned. “I’m curious about something.”
“Yes?”
“When you pledged your service to the crown, did you mean it? Or was it simply words—pretty sounds to buy you time and position while you waited for a better opportunity?”
He could feel Izael's confusion at the question, could sense the younger fae trying to determine what answer would be safest. But safety wasn't really an option anymore, was it? Not for any of them.
“I meant it,” Izael said finally. “Every word.”
