“Perhaps, but have I proved myself calm enough to be allowed a glimpse of my great-nieces and nephew?”
I fought the urge to look at Doyle for reassurance. Rhys glanced back at me and gave me the look I needed. He thought she had been good enough to see the babies, or at least hadn’t done anything bad enough to not have earned a glimpse of them. I gave a small nod and then said, “Yes, we will have the babies brought into the room so you may see them tonight, Aunt Andais.”
I worded that last carefully, because if I had said, You may see the babies, she could interpret it as being allowed to come visit in person, and that she hadn’t earned yet.
I gave the order for the babies to be brought into the room. One of the guards went to fetch our nurses and our children to be paraded before their great-aunt, who had nearly killed me when I was little because she thought me not pure-blooded enough, like a mongrel puppy that your prize-winning bitch had dropped. You didn’t keep the mistakes, and Andais had seen me as that, or worse. My father had found us, rescued me, fought with his sister, and taken me and all his courtiers with him into the human world. He had chosen exile to keep me safe. I didn’t understand what it had cost him until I spent my own three years alone and exiled, hiding here in Los Angeles. My father had loved me dearly; my aunt … didn’t love me at all. How could I ever trust her around our babies? The answer was obvious: I couldn’t.
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
BRYLUEN FIT IN my arms as if she had been made to tuck into the curve of my elbow. I lowered my face over that tiny face; the dark ginger of her eyelashes lay on her alabaster skin like decoration, almost too perfect to be real. I’m told all mothers think their babies are beautiful; how do you know if you’re seeing the truth, or it’s some illusion made of love and baby hormones? There are types of glamour that have nothing to do with faerie and everything to do with love.
Galen had taken Gwenwyfar in his arms, and then sat back down by my legs, careful not to bump my “footstool” so that Kitto wouldn’t move and ruin his safe pass before the queen. Sholto held Alastair, but stayed standing beside my chair. He rocked the baby automatically when Alastair started to fuss. Once he believed that Bryluen was his, he had joined in caring for all the babies, as if, one being his, they were all his.
“You forget how very tiny they are,” Andais said, and her voice was softer, gentler than any time I’d ever heard her.
I looked up and realized that I’d forgotten she was there; for just a moment there had been nothing but the baby in my arms and my feeling of utter contentment. I’d discovered that sometimes being around the triplets was like being drugged with something slow and pleasant, but I hadn’t expected the effect to continue with my aunt still on the “phone.”
“I remember that look from when Cel was little. He always had that effect on me to a certain extent. Looking at you now, I wonder if it was more than just motherly affection.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Your eyes are unfocused; you look almost drugged.”
“Bryluen did have a very strong effect on a human friend of ours, so much so that we’ve decided no human nannies or babysitters for her,” I said.
“Perhaps my great-niece’s glamour affects more than just humans, Meredith. You would not knowingly let yourself become this distracted in front of me.”
“No, Aunt Andais, I would not.”
She had a thoughtful look on her face, and laid a hand on Eamon’s thigh where it was hidden under his own silk robe. “Do I dare attribute some of my worst mistakes to magic? Was my own son able to throw glamour over my eyes as … Bryluen just did to you?”
“I do not know, Aunt Andais, I cannot speak to it.”
“Nor I with any certainty,” she said, but she kept touching Eamon, stroking his thigh not in a sexual way, but more for comfort. I knew that touch helped keep our minds free of glamour from the King of Light and Illusion, Taranis, and I wondered if she was touching Eamon for comfort, or because there was glamour coming through the mirror from Bryluen and me.
Doyle put his hand back on my shoulder, and I could think even more clearly. It was a sharpening of focus that let me know I hadn’t been at my best just seconds before, and the fact that I hadn’t realized that was not good. We would have serious negotiations today and later with other relatives, allies, and enemies. I couldn’t be besotted with baby glamour while dealing with all of it. How powerful was Bryluen’s effect on the people around her?
“For the idea that my mother’s blindness to my son’s machinations was magic, I thank you, Meredith, and Bryluen. It’s Cornish for ‘rose,’ a sweet name for a little girl.”
“It was a compromise between the men,” I said.
She looked past me to one of the men at my back and said, “So, Killing Frost, you wished to name your new daughter after the love you lost centuries ago, Rose?”
I felt him tense without need of touching him, so his startle reflex must have shown over the mirror to her. Rose had been the name of the woman and her daughter he had loved centuries ago when he was merely Jackul Frosti, Little Jackie Frost. It was love for them, desire to protect them that had made Frost grow from a minor player in the procession of winter into the tall, commanding warrior, because little Jack Frost couldn’t protect his Roses. The Killing Frost could, but in the end, time had taken them away from him. They’d been human and mortal and died as all mortal flesh is doomed to do.
Andais laughed, a high, delighted, wicked peal of laughter. Perhaps it was actually a pleasant laugh, but we’d all heard it so many times when she was enjoying cruelty that it could be nothing but unpleasant to our ears.
Doyle reached across with his free hand to touch Frost and steady him. His reaction must have been even worse than I’d thought for Doyle to show such weakness before the queen. It wasn’t always wise to show how much you truly cared about anyone in front of her.
“So the rumors are true, my Darkness and my Killing Frost are lovers,” she said.
I actually glanced behind me then, to see what was prompting her to say that, and found the men holding hands behind my chair.
Rhys said, “Once a man could hold the hand of his best friend and not be thought his lover.”
She looked at Rhys, eyes narrowing; it was a look that typically began something bad, a bad mood, a bad event, an order we would not want to follow.
“Are you saying that they are not lovers?” Andais said.
“I am saying, why does it matter, and you shouldn’t believe every rumor the human tabloids put out.”
Galen was still sitting at my feet, beside Kitto, who had stayed almost immobile. Galen was holding Gwenwyfar, so as he leaned back against my legs he had to brush against Kitto’s curls. The baby’s hand brushed the long hair, and though she was too young to do it, Gwenwyfar grabbed a tiny fistful of Kitto’s curls.
It couldn’t have hurt, because the baby didn’t have the strength for it yet, but it was probably the one thing that Kitto would have reacted to. He raised his face enough to gaze up at Gwenwyfar. I couldn’t see Kitto’s expression, but it was almost certainly a smile.
“So, little goblin, you make yourself useful, so the princess does not send you home.”
I felt Kitto’s reaction up through the soles of my feet on his back. It was a startle as bad as Frost’s had been, but Kitto had always been terrified of the queen. Frost had loved and hated Andais; Kitto simply feared her.
“It is against protocol to speak with the royal’s footstool,” Rhys said. Once he had hated all goblins because one took his eye, so the fact that he stepped up to distract her from Kitto made me love him more. He had come far to value Kitto enough to risk himself for the goblin.
She gave him a narrow look. “You have grown bold, Rhys. Where does this new bravery in the face of your queen come from?”
Rhys stepped closer to the mirror, drawing her eye and partially blocking her view, so Galen could pry Gwenwyfar’s tiny hand from Kitto’s hair a
nd the goblin could go back to being an immobile piece of furniture, and hopefully beneath the queen’s notice.
“I don’t think I’m braver, my queen, just understanding the value of those around me more than I did before.”
“What does that mean, Rhys?”
“You know my hatred for the goblins.”
“I do, but this one seems to have won your favor; how?”
Eamon was utterly still beside her, as if he would have left if he thought it wouldn’t attract her attention. She had played sane, but her nearest and most dear love was acting like a rabbit in the grass hoping the fox won’t find it, if only it can be still enough.
“It was Kitto who shopped for an extra crib, blankets, toys, everything, when the news came that we were having triplets and not just twins. He made certain we came home to a house that was ready for all the children, and that Merry had everything she needed.”
“Any good servant will do as much,” Andais said.
“True, but Kitto helps tend the babies not out of duty, but out of love.”
“Love.” She made it sound distasteful. “Goblins don’t understand love for that which is small and helpless. Newborn sidhe are a delicacy among the goblins, you know that better than anyone standing here except for my Darkness. The others were not with me during the last Great War against the Goblins, but you and he know what they are capable of.”
He glanced back at Doyle and then back to the mirror. I couldn’t see his face, but his voice was fierce and bitter, “Now, my queen, remember I was at your side. I remember that the atrocities weren’t all goblin work.”
“We didn’t eat their young,” she said. Her eyes had darkened and were beginning to have that first hint of shine, her power beginning to rise. It could also be a sign of anger, or even anxiety, but it usually meant magic was on the rise.
“No, most goblin flesh is too bitter to eat,” he said, and there was a finality in his voice. He’d left all pretense of placating her behind. It was simply the truth, and my joking Rhys had decided to leave humor for honesty, the kind of honesty that royals do not always welcome.
I was shocked enough myself, because I hadn’t known that my people, the sidhe, had tasted goblin flesh enough to know the bitter or sweet of it. I held Bryluen closer to my face, smelling the sweet clean scent of her to hide my face, because in that moment I wasn’t certain I could have kept it neutral.
Bryluen opened those huge almond-shaped eyes, all swimming blue, and I had a sensation like falling. I had to literally drag myself back from the brink. I lowered my baby away from my face and avoided direct eye contact with her. It wasn’t just glamour, she had power, did our little Cornish Rose. How much, and how did we teach her not to use it willy-nilly? How do you explain to a newborn the concept of abuse of power?
“We vowed never to speak of some things, Rhys,” Andais said, in a voice that crawled along the spine and raised the hairs on the back of my neck.
Alastair began to cry, high and piteous. He waved small fists as he did it. He couldn’t be hungry—we’d made sure that everyone had nursed or had a bottle before this call, so we wouldn’t have to deal with it. Sholto began to rock him side to side. Alastair didn’t like to be bounced the way Gwenwyfar did, and Bryluen liked to be held up on the shoulder and have her back rubbed while you rocked her. Three days and the babies were already so different, so individual. I’d been told that multiples were like each other, but I was beginning to wonder if that was just because most of them looked alike, so people expected it.
Sholto began to rock Alastair in wider arcs, so his upper body turned from side to side. The movement began to quiet the baby.
“We vowed, but we did not swear,” Rhys said. If he had given his sworn word he couldn’t have spoken of it, because to be an oathbreaker was one of the few “sins” among the fey. An oathbreaker could be cast out of faerie forever.
Andais was looking at the crying baby. “I have seen the girls, but not the boy. Would you bring him closer so I might?”
It was Doyle who said, “If you will stop trying to unsettle us, my queen, perhaps, but if your behavior of the last few minutes continues, then what is the point? We do not want our children raised in an atmosphere of fear and uncertainty.”
“How dare you question my behavior, Darkness?”
He shrugged with his hand on my shoulder, and the other still holding Frost’s hand. “And this is exactly why we do not want the babies raised around you, or your court. I thought Essus a fool when he took Merry and his retinue and left the Unseelie Court, but now I see it for wisdom. Even if Merry could have survived in our court as a child, she would have been a different person now. I do not think that person would have been better, or kinder.”
“You cannot be kind and rule the sidhe, or the goblins, or the sluagh, or anyone inside or out of faerie. Kindness is for children and human fairy tales.”
“Kindness where possible is not a weakness,” Doyle said.
“In a queen it most certainly is,” she said.
“You have seen Merry on the battlefield; do you think her kindness made her less ruthless, or less dangerous, my queen?” he asked, and his voice was lower, crawling down into those vibratingly low tones that had frightened me once. Now it made me shiver for a different reason, a much more fun reason, because three things make a man’s voice lower, and all are testosterone based—heavy exercise, violence, and sex.
“Do you think it is wise to remind me that I watched her slaughter my son in front of me?”
“Do you think it wise that you reminded Frost of the loss of his first love?”
“Frost cannot punish such impudence as I can,” she said.
“And there you go again,” Rhys said.
She looked back at him. “What are you talking about?”
Eamon moved beside her and spoke low and clear, in the kind of voice you use to calm wild animals or talk jumpers off ledges. “My queen, my beloved, he means that if you keep threatening punishment they have no reason to share your nieces and nephew with you. Your brother’s grandchildren are before you; do you want to be a part of their lives, or do you prefer to be the Queen of Air and Darkness, frightening and unyielding to all insults?”
“I have already offered to give up being the Queen of Air and Darkness if Meredith will but take the throne.”
“So you would rather be Aunt Andais to Essus’s grandchildren than queen of all?”
She seemed to think about it for a moment or two, and then she nodded. “Yes, to see my bloodline continue, to have three descendants of our line who are already displaying such power, for that I would step down.”
It wasn’t just descendants, but powerful, magical descendants. She’d already seen the lightning mark on Gwenwyfar’s arm and watched it spark at Mistral’s touch. Alastair had displayed no overt talent as the girls had done, but she seemed willing to take it for granted that he, too, would be powerful. If any of our children proved without magic, by her standards, she would still see them as useless, as not worthy, as she’d decided with me when I turned six and she tried to drown me.
Eamon laid his hand over hers, cautiously. “But, my beloved, it’s more than stepping down from the throne; Meredith and her consorts want to feel safe around you, and at this moment, they do not.”
“They should not. I am the Queen of Air and Darkness, ruler of the Unseelie Court. The fact that people fear me is part of the point, Eamon; you know that.”
“For ruling our court, perhaps, and for keeping the Golden Court in check, absolutely, but my love, perhaps being frightening is not the best way to be Great-Aunt Andais.”
She frowned at him as if she didn’t understand the words, The words made sense, she could hear them, but I wasn’t certain she could grasp their meaning.
She finally said out loud, “I don’t understand what you mean, Eamon.”
He tried to pull her into his arms as he said, “I know you do not, my love.”
She pushed away from him
. “Then explain it to me, so I will understand.”
“Aunt Andais,” I said.
She looked at me, still frowning, still not understanding.
“Do you regret the loss of Tyler?”
“I said so, didn’t I?”
“You did.”
“Then what are you talking about, Meredith?”
“Will you regret not being Aunt Andais to our children?”
“I am their aunt, Meredith; you cannot change that.”
“Perhaps not, but I can decide whether you are aunt in name only, or whether you actually have a place in their lives so they know who you are in a pleasant way; or will you be on the list of people that we warn them about? Do you want to be a bogeyman to your nieces and nephew? If you see your Aunt Andais, run. If she comes for you, call for help, fight back. Is that the legacy you want in their lives?”
“They could not fight me and win, Meredith; even you could not.”
“And that is not the point of what I said; the fact that you think it is means you are not welcome here.”
“Do not make me your enemy, Meredith.”
“Then apologize, Aunt Andais.”
“For what?”
“For reminding Frost of past pain, for trying to frighten Kitto, for every threat, every hint of pain and violence you’ve spoken since this conversation began.”
“A queen does not apologize, Meredith.”
“But an aunt does.”
She blinked at me. “Ah,” she said, “you want me to be some cheerful relative that comes with gifts and smiles.”
“Yes,” I said.
She smiled, but it was an unpleasant one, as if she’d tasted something bitter. “You want me to be other than I am around your children?”
“If by that you mean pleasant, kind, and just a normal aunt, then yes, Andais, that is what I want.”
“It is not their heritage to be any of those things.”
“My father, your brother, thought otherwise, and he raised me to be all those things.”
“And it was love and kindness that got him killed, Meredith. He hesitated, because he loved his killer.”
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