“Merry had to become your queen; the rest of us had to become her kings.”
“Why should that matter?” Sholto said.
“Merry had to marry you to become your queen; for the rest of us, we had to father a child to become Merry’s kings, or princes. I think for the Unseelie Court, the Goddess and Consort already chose the king.”
“I gave up my crown to save Frost,” Doyle said.
“Barinthus still hasn’t forgiven you, or Merry, for that,” Galen said, with a smile.
“He is a Kingmaker, or a Queenmaker,” Sholto said. “The two of you gave up what Barinthus had worked for decades to accomplish.”
“He dreamed of putting my father on the throne, not me, and certainly not Doyle,” I said.
“True,” Sholto said.
“Very true,” Doyle said.
“I don’t believe we would all have lived to see the babies born,” Rhys said.
“Too many enemies still left in the darkling court,” Doyle agreed.
“Or perhaps the Goddess and God would have protected you,” Royal said.
We all looked at the delicate figure still tucked into the chair with a baby who might, or might not, be his daughter.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“If the Goddess and God crowned the two of you, maybe they would have worked to keep you safe on the throne?”
I thought about it. “Are you saying we needed to have faith, little one?” Doyle asked.
“You still talk as if the power of the Goddess has not returned to bless us all with Her Grace, but she has moved among us these last months even here outside faerie, in the far Western Lands.”
I said, “The Goddess told me that if the fey weren’t willing to accept Her blessings, then I should take them out among the humans and see if they appreciated them more.”
“Humans are always impressed with magic,” Sholto said.
“But it’s not magic,” I said. “It’s miracles.”
“Aren’t miracles just a type of magic?” he asked.
I thought about that, and finally said, “I’m not sure, perhaps.”
“What did the queen say when you told her not to come?” I asked.
Doyle met my eyes, but his face was unreadable, as closed and mysterious as he had ever been, but now I understood what the look meant. He was hiding something from me, protecting me, he thought. I saw it as not sharing information that I needed.
“What makes you think I have spoken to the queen?”
“Who else had a chance of persuading her to stay away but the Queen’s Darkness?”
“I am no longer her Darkness, but yours.”
“Then tell me what she said, and what she wants.”
“She wants to see her brother’s grandchildren.”
“You’ve told me that she’s still torturing random people at court,” I said.
“She was the most composed I have seen her since this last madness gripped her.”
“And how composed was that?” Rhys asked, and by tone and expression he showed that he didn’t believe it would be composed enough.
“She seemed her old self, before Cel’s death and our giving up the throne drove her mad.”
“You still believe that she was trying to be so insane that some of her court would kill her?”
“I believe that for this space of time she sought death, or didn’t care whether she lived or died,” Doyle said.
I thought about the broken, bloody bodies of the people that had been brought to us or escaped to find refuge with us. The queen had not tried to hunt down any of the refugees of her court, even though it was well known that her nobles had come to seek asylum with us.
“If positions had been reversed, she would have sent me to kill you months ago,” Doyle said.
I nodded, hugging Gwenwyfar a little closer, feeling her deeply asleep in my arms. It helped me stay calm and say, “She would have said, ‘Where is my Darkness? Bring me my Darkness,’ and you would have come like a shadow and ended my life.”
“I would have done the same if you had asked, Meredith.”
“I know that, but I would not risk you back in the Unseelie Court by yourself, Doyle.”
“If anyone could assassinate the queen and live to tell about it, it is Doyle,” Sholto said.
“If anyone could do it, he could, I know that.”
“Then why have we hesitated?”
“Because the word if is in every conversation we have about this, and I’m not willing to risk Doyle on an if.”
“You love him and the Killing Frost more than a queen should love anyone,” Sholto said.
“Do you say that from experience, King Sholto?” I asked.
“You do not love me as you love Doyle, or Frost. We all know that they are your most beloved, so I am not betraying you if I say that I am not in love with you either.”
“Don’t you love the babies more than duty, or crown?” Galen asked. I’m not sure I would have asked, not out loud.
Sholto turned and looked at him, so I couldn’t see the expression he gave the other man, but I was almost certain it was his arrogant face. The one that made him look model handsome and was his version of a blank face.
“I would give my life to keep them safe, but I do not know if I value them above duty to my people and my kingdom. My throne and crown they could have, but not if it cost my people their independence or their lives. I hope I never have to choose between the children and the duty that I owe my people.”
“You are the best king that faerie has had in a very long time,” Doyle said.
“You don’t hold duty above the lives of our children, do you, Doyle?” I asked.
He turned and smiled at me. “No, Merry, of course not; they are more precious to me than any crown, but then I already proved that I prefer love to a throne. If I would give up being King of the Unseelie Court for love of our Frost, then I would do no less for our children.”
And that was the answer I wanted, that no duty or sense of honor outweighed the love to these small new lives. I laid my cheek against the soft curls, breathed in the sweet scent of our daughter, and asked, “Who has persuaded the king to stay inside faerie?”
“The lawyers and the police,” Rhys said.
“Human lawyers and human police? How have they persuaded the King of Light and Illusion to do anything?”
“Human law confined him to faerie after he attacked us and the lawyers with us.”
“He hadn’t left the Seelie Court in years,” I said. “It was no hardship for him.”
“There’s also a court order keeping him five hundred feet away from you and all your lovers and an injunction preventing him from contacting us directly, even by magic.”
“That was a fun one to get a judge to sign off on,” I said.
“We have set new precedents for human law and magic,” Rhys agreed.
“He attacked a room full of some of the most powerful attorneys in California; it helped our case.”
“Human police will not be able to arrest him,” I said.
“There will be no arresting him, Merry. If Taranis escapes faerie and comes for you, or the babies, he will die.”
“He’ll slaughter the humans,” I said.
“He’s not bulletproof,” Galen said.
“Human police aren’t trained to kill first, but second, and that will be all the time he needs to kill them,” I said.
“Soldiers are trained to kill, not save, and that is what is needed,” Doyle said.
“Is there still a National Guard unit outside the faerie mounds in Illinois?” I asked.
“You know there is,” he said.
“I don’t want them dying for me, Doyle.”
“They won’t die for you, or us, but as I understand it in defense of their country and constitution.”
“And what does fighting a king of the sidhe have to do with defending the constitution?”
Rhys said, “Merry, if Taranis could be king of
this country, he would be, and he would rule with the same arrogance and cruel carelessness that he has displayed toward the Seelie Court.”
“There is no danger of him ruling this country, and you know that.”
“I do, but he still needs killing.”
“Because he raped me?” I asked, and studied his face as I said it. It had taken me months to say the words that casually.
Rhys nodded. “Oh, for that, definitely for that.”
“Definitely,” Doyle said.
“Yes,” Galen said.
“If it would not cause war between the sluagh and the Seelie Court, yes.”
“I am too weak to ever harm anyone so powerful, but if I could kill him for what he did to you, I would,” Royal said.
The demi-fey that were still fluttering tiny and fragile-looking among the roses and blossoms in the room rose in a cloud of wings and said in small voices, “Command us, Merry, and we will do what you need.”
“Are you saying you would kill Taranis for me?”
“Yes.” They said it in unison like birds chirping a word all at once.
“Rid me of this inconvenient man, really?”
“Yes,” they sang again.
“No, I would not send so many of the demi-fey to their death. I do not want vengeance so badly that I would sacrifice all of you.”
“And that is why we would do it for you,” Royal said.
I shook my head. “No, no more deaths of those I value. I’ve lost too many people and seen too much blood spilled because of the madness of kings and queens.”
“Then what do you want us to do about him?” Rhys asked.
“I don’t know; if he loses his head and tries to come near me or the babies again, then we kill him. I won’t let him hurt me again, and I won’t let him near our children.”
“We kill him then,” Doyle said.
“If we can,” Rhys said.
“Oh, we can kill him,” Galen said, as if it were a matter of fact and not a nearly impossible feat.
“How can you be so sure?” Rhys asked.
Galen’s face wore that new harsher expression as he hugged our son. “Because if he comes for Merry and we don’t kill him, he’ll hurt her again, and we won’t allow that.”
“So we’ll kill him, because we have to,” Rhys said.
Galen nodded. “Yes.”
The men all looked at each other and then at me, and I saw the beginnings of a determination that could only end in one way. Taranis, King of Light and Illusion, was going to have to die.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
THE TRIPLETS WERE in the nursery with Doyle, Frost, and a handful of other guards watching over them while the nurses and doctors did last-minute things in preparation for going home. Galen, Rhys, and I were in the room trying to figure out how we were going to get everything else home. Flowers and other gifts had come from friends, but most of it was from strangers. The fact that Princess Meredith had had her babies had made the news, and America was thrilled to have their faerie princess have triplets! I appreciated the thought, but we were a little overwhelmed by their generosity.
“We’ll need a van just to cart all the flowers and presents home,” Rhys said. He stood in the middle of the room with his hands on hips, surveying all the bouquets, balloons, stuffed animals, potted plants, and gift baskets of food that filled most of the room. We’d started turning away some of the well-meaning gifts, because we needed to leave room for us and the medical personnel to use the room. The hospital had been much happier with the florist shop invasion than with the plants that were still growing in the room. The blooming apple tree curled above all of it. The treetop was pushed against the ceiling as if still trying to grow taller, as if it had come up against the sky and been surprised to find it solid and unforgiving. The nurses had asked if the tree was permanent, and I’d given the only answer I had: I didn’t know.
They were even less happy with the wild roses around the bed because they had thorns. Two nurses and a doctor had pricked themselves on the thorny vines.
“We’ve already given away a lot of it to other patients,” Galen said.
“Most of the stuffed toys should go to the children’s ward,” I said. I turned too fast to motion at the toys and had to stop and try a less dramatic turn. I felt good, but if I moved a certain way I could feel the stitches and the abuse my body had suffered to get our little trio on the outside. I was just happy to be in real clothes again. The sundress was designer maternity, one of the many gifts we’d had over the months that came with the words, “Just tell people what you’re wearing and it’s free.” Since we were supporting a small army of fey on not-large-enough salaries, we’d taken most of the gifts. The ones that didn’t come with contracts to sign, those we’d let our entertainment lawyers to look over.
We’d been offered a reality show. Did we want cameras following us around everywhere? No. Did we need the money? Yes. Which was why the entertainment lawyers were going over the contracts, but we had to decide today. The producers wanted it to begin with the babies coming home, so that meant that the film crew needed to either come to the hospital to start filming, or film us as we brought the babies into the house. We needed the money, but what would my relatives do on camera?
As if he’d read my mind, Rhys said, “I think the reality show is a bad idea, have I said that yet?”
“You mentioned it,” I said, still staring at the stuffed animals, some of which were nearly three feet tall. What would newborn babies do with such a thing? We’d leave them for older children who would love them and needed them more than our tiny ones. Bryluen, Gwenwyfar, and Alastair weren’t able to reach for things yet, let alone manage a forest of giant toys. The world was big enough to them right now without that.
“I agree with Rhys, but I know that Merry feels it’s wrong to expect Maeve to keep supporting all of us.”
“It’s an old tradition that when the ruler visited his nobles they were expected to entertain him, or her, and all their traveling court,” Rhys said. He picked up one of the potted plants and shook his head. I think he was thinking what I was thinking: We couldn’t possibly take all the plants home. It would be a full-time job just to water them all. Though some of the tiny winged demi-fey had picked a few of them to cuddle into; those we’d bring home.
“I’ve read that Henry the Eighth used that tradition to bankrupt rivals, or nobles he was trying to control,” I said.
“People make jokes about fat Henry, but he was a very good politician and understood the power of being king.”
“He abused that power,” I said.
“He did, but they all did. It’s hard to resist absolute power, Merry.”
“Is that from personal experience?” Galen asked.
Rhys looked at him, and then down at the piles of gifts. “Being a deity with worshippers does tend to make a person a little high-handed, but I learned my lesson.”
“What lesson is that?” I asked, and came up to wrap my arm through his so that I could rest my cheek against his shoulder.
He turned his head enough to smile at me, and said, “That just because people call you a god doesn’t make you one.”
A tiny and very female voice said, “You were the great god Cromm Cruach, and your followers healed all hurts.”
We looked at one of the winged demi-fey; it was Penny, Royal’s twin sister. She’d been fluttering among the flowers but now rose so she’d be head height for us. She had her brother’s short black curls, pale skin, and black almond-shaped eyes, but her face was even more delicate, her body a little smaller. She was wearing a gauzy red-and-black dress that looked very nice with her wings.
Rhys looked at her, face not happy. “That makes you very old indeed, little one, much older than I thought.”
“I had no wings then, because our Princess Merry had not worked her wild magic and made us able to fly. We wingless ones among the demi-fey went even more unnoticed than the rest; at least they were color and bea
uty, but those of us who had not been so blessed only watched from the grass and the roots of things. It gives a perspective that I might not have had if I’d been on the wing back then.”
“What perspective is that?” Rhys asked.
“To know that everyone starts on the ground. Trees, flowers, people, even the mighty sidhe must stand upon the dirt in order to move forward.”
“If you have a point, make it,” he said.
“You have no illusions about what and who you are now; you can make a life that is real, not some fantasy, but something true and good, just as a tree that puts down deep roots can withstand storms, but one with shallow roots is knocked over by the first strong wind. You have become deep-rooted, Rhys, and that is not a bad thing.”
He smiled then, nodding and squeezing my arm where I touched him. “Thank you, Penny, I think I understand. Once I built myself on power that was given to me by the Goddess and Her Consort, but I forgot that it wasn’t my power, so when we lost the grace of the Gods, I was lost, but whatever I am now it’s real and it’s me, and no one can take that from me.”
“Yes,” she said, hovering near Rhys’s face, her wings beating so quickly that the edge of his curls blew softly in the wind of her flight.
“Did I seem like I needed a pep talk to you?” Rhys asked.
“There is often an air of melancholy about you.”
I glanced from the tiny fey to Rhys and wondered, would I have thought that? Was that true? He joked a lot and made light comments, but … behind all of it, Penny was right. I found it interesting that she had paid that much attention to him. I thought of several motives for a female to pay that much attention to a man—did Penny have a crush on Rhys? Or was she just that wise and observant of all of us, of everything? If the first was true, then I doubted Rhys would realize it, and if the second was true, then hearing her thoughts on other things might be interesting.
“Penny, do you think we should do the reality show?” I asked.
She dipped down, which was a flying demi-fey’s way of stumbling. I’d surprised her.
“It is not my place to say.”
“I’ve asked your opinion,” I said.
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