Seduced by Moonlight mg-3

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  Hawthorne's tricolored eyes were wide. "Who indeed would dare?"

  Barinthus was still holding me in his arms, but there was no snow now, no cold. I touched his shoulder. "I can walk now."

  He looked at me as if he'd forgotten he was holding me, and maybe he had. He had to bend over to put me safely on the stone floor. I shook the back of my skirt in place, smoothed it with my hands, and knew that the pleats in back simply would not be perfect until the skirt was ironed. There was nothing I could do about it. I just hoped that the news of my near death would distract her from my less-than-perfect clothing. You never knew with Andais; sometimes she would direct her anger at small things if she couldn't deal with the large.

  Ivi went to one knee before me, and when he did, the cloak caught on his leg and pulled to one side, baring his shoulder, part of his chest, and the edge of his hips. He was nude under the cloak.

  "Princess Meredith, greetings from the Queen of Air and Darkness. She sends us as gifts." That lilt of mockery was back in his voice.

  Hawthorne had also dropped to his knees, but the way he held the cloak tight with only his hands showing made me wonder if he were wearing anything more under his cloak than Ivi was.

  "We are gifts for your stay if the ring doth know us," Hawthorne said, and he sounded as if he would have been angry if he dared.

  "Surely this can wait," Onilwyn said. "If the queen truly does not know of what has happened, then she must be told."

  It was Usna who answered that. "If you want to hurry off and give the queen bad news, by all means run along. I, for one, do not want to be the first person to tell her." He was still nude, carrying his sheathed sword in his hand. The queen had been known to shoot the messenger, as it were.

  Onilwyn looked a little pale. "You may have a point."

  "But so do you," Barinthus said. "The queen needs to know. I cannot believe that no one has contacted her."

  "She did not know near three hours hence," Hawthorne said.

  "If she knew now, there would be more men," Doyle said, and no one argued with him.

  "She was entertaining herself," Ivi said, his voice rich with that self-loathing humor, as if every word meant more, "and gave word that only the princess's arrival would be good enough to disturb her."

  "Surely someone would have interrupted her fun and games for this," Barinthus said.

  Hawthorne looked up at him. "You are one of us, Lord Barinthus, but she does not treat you as she treats most. She respects your power. The rest of us are not so lucky. If we interrupt her game, then we are to take the place of the one she plays with." He looked down and a shudder passed through him. "I would not interrupt her for an attempted assassination."

  "If I'd died, then one of you would have told her?" I asked, and my own voice held an edge of what Ivi usually sounded like.

  "You have stripped us of all who were powerful enough to beard her in her den, Princess," Hawthorne said.

  "Darkness, Frost, Barinthus," Ivi said, "teacher's pets compared to the rest of us."

  "Mistral is still here," Doyle said.

  Hawthorne shook his head. "He fears her, Darkness, as do we all."

  "She has gotten better in the last few months," Barinthus said, "easier to talk to."

  "Again, Lord Barinthus, perhaps for you," Hawthorne said.

  "Let us finish our speech," Ivi said. "Then you can all draw straws for who gets to be the bearer of such evil tidings."

  "You say that as if you don't get to draw a straw," Rhys said.

  "We don't," Ivi said.

  "Hawthorne, explain," Doyle said.

  "We are gifts for the princess, if the ring doth know us."

  "You said that already," Rhys said.

  Doyle gave him a look, and Rhys shrugged. "He did."

  "And if the ring knows you," Frost said.

  "Then we are to invite the princess to bed us." Hawthorne was careful to look only at Doyle, as if I weren't standing there.

  Ivi snorted, as if trying not to laugh.

  "What is funny in that?" Doyle asked him.

  "That's not what the queen said."

  "It is the meat of what she meant," Hawthorne said, and there was an air of offended dignity in his tone.

  Ivi laughed out loud.

  "What did the queen say, Ivi?" Doyle's tone was resigned, as if he really didn't want to know, but understood there was no choice.

  "If the ring knows us" — and he finished the rest in an imitation of the queen's voice good enough to raise the hair at the back of my neck—"then fuck Meredith, fuck her as soon as you see her. If she gets picky then you may go to her room, or yours. I don't care, just get the job done."

  "Well," Galen said, "that's..."

  "A little less than poetic even for the queen," Rhys said.

  "That'll do." Galen looked a little shocked.

  "Do I get a say in this?" I asked.

  Hawthorne bowed until his forehead nearly touched the stone. "I am sorry, Princess."

  "What he won't tell you," Ivi said, "is that he asked what we were to do if Princess Meredith did not wish to bed us as soon as she entered the sithen." He imitated the rhythm of Hawthorne's speech.

  "And what did my aunt say?" I asked.

  Ivi smiled up at me, and his dark green eyes held a fierce triumph that I didn't understand.

  Hawthorne answered with his face still bowed toward the stones, his voice holding sorrow the way Ivi's usually held mockery. "Are you Unseelie sidhe or not? Persuade her."

  Ivi kept his darkly joyful face turned up toward me. "He asked, and if she will not be persuaded?" And again he echoed the queen's voice so well that it raised chills upon my skin, "Persuade her, or take her, or tell her what I have said, and let that be your persuasion. If Meredith will not take the pleasure I offer her, then perhaps she will take pain instead. For there is both to be had here among the Unseelie. Remind her of that if her sensibilities are too delicate for fucking."

  "I would change what she has sent us for, if I could," Hawthorne said, and he prostrated himself against the stone, his forehead pressed to the floor.

  I turned from Ivi's gloating face to Barinthus. "I thought you said she'd gotten better over the last few months."

  "She has, she had," he said, and he had the grace to look embarrassed.

  "Come on, Princess," Ivi said, "put that pretty hand out and see what happens. If the ring doesn't know us, then we're all free."

  "He's right," Doyle said, "let them touch the ring, and if it is cold to them, then we can go to the queen and give our news."

  "And if it is not cold?" Frost asked.

  "Then we can fuck up against the wall," Ivi said.

  "Over my dead body," Galen said.

  "If you want it that way," Ivi said.

  "Boys," I said.

  Galen looked at me. Ivi continued to look at Galen.

  "No killing each other unless I tell you to."

  Ivi looked at me then, and that fierceness held a note of puzzlement. "What does that mean?"

  "It means that if you annoy me enough, Ivi, I have more than half a dozen of the best warriors the sidhe ever produced, and if I asked nicely, they'd slice you into pieces for me."

  "Ah, but that would not be obeying the queen's directive."

  I bent down just the little bit I needed to be face to face with him, and I felt an unpleasant smile cross my face. "Oh, but it would be. Corpses routinely have one last orgasm just as they die. The queen's exact orders are not to come before her without your seed upon my body. She didn't specify where or how that happens, now, did she?"

  The triumph was gone, the mockery faded as I watched, until the only thing left in those dark green eyes was fear. It didn't make me happy to see him fear me, but it did give a certain satisfaction.

  He licked his lips as if they'd suddenly gone dry, and said, "You are your aunt's bloodline."

  "Yes, Ivi, I am, and it would be best if you did not forget that" —I leaned in close above his lips —"ever
again." I laid a gentle kiss upon his mouth, and he flinched.

  As I raised my hand to cup Ivi's face, Barinthus grabbed my wrist and pulled my hand away from the other man's flesh. "Perhaps the queen should know of other events before we use the ring again."

  We all had a moment of exchanging glances. Hawthorne said, "What else has happened?"

  "Let us say, that the ring has risen in power," Barinthus said, "and I am no longer certain of what will happen when the princess presses it to anyone's flesh."

  Ivi gave a dark laugh. "I see what happened when she touched you, Lord Barinthus." He was staring at the other man's groin, and the stain that had set into the front of the leather pants.

  Abloec pushed to the front, to stand near Ivi. He knelt down beside the other man. It was the steadiest I'd seen him, as if the cold had sobered him. "I am soaking wet, freezing, and sober. I don't want to be any of those three things. You are going to shut up, and we are all going to go to the queen." He looked up at the rest of us. "When she hears about the flooding, she'll want to make sure that the princess is in a secure area before the ring is used."

  "Flooding?" Hawthorne said.

  "Every river in the area," Abloec said.

  Hawthorne glanced up at Barinthus. "You mean touching Lord Barinthus flooded the area?"

  Doyle and Barinthus said in unison, "We believe so."

  Galen and Rhys said in unison, "Yes."

  Usna pushed through us all, still nude, and getting angry. "We're going to see the queen now, because I want to be warm again."

  "Would you risk your life for a little comfort?" Frost said.

  Usna gave him a wide grin. "What else is there to risk one's life for these days? Haven't you heard, Killing Frost, the days of myth and magic are gone. The days when there was anything worth fighting for are over." He looked at Barinthus as he finished, then his grey eyes found me, and he gave me a lingering look. It wasn't sexual, or food, or anything that I would have expected from Usna. It was a considering look. A look that held far too many guesses that were far too close to the truth.

  The moment passed and his eyes were simply full of good cheer. He clapped Abloec on the shoulder. "Let us go forth and beard the queen in her den of iniquities."

  Abloec got to his feet frowning. "You would help bear such news, knowing what she may do?"

  "She'll hate the assassination attempt, someone will bleed for that one, but the rest" —Usna threw his arm across the other's shoulders—"the Queen will love the other news." He started moving Abloec down the hallway, and the rest of us began to trail after. Usna called back over his shoulder at me, "If I were you, Princess, I'd be worried that she does not put you in a magical circle like an animal in the zoo, and just send one of us after another to see how many of us you can bring back to..." He put his sword pommel over his lips as you'd place a finger to say, Shhhh. "Save that for the queen's ears, eh." And he glided down the hallway ahead of us, his nude body in its calico colors leading the way, with Abloec still pressed to his side.

  CHAPTER 27

  The only doors in the entire sithen that were black were the doors leading to my aunt's chambers. They were a shining improbable black stone that stood taller than the tallest guard, and wider than that semi the first hallway could hold.

  The doors were their usual ominous selves, but the two men who stood at attention before the doors were not usual. One, there were rarely guards on this side of the doors. The queen enjoyed an audience, especially if that audience could not participate, no matter how much they wanted to. Sometimes you'd find guards outside if they were waiting to escort people away once the queen was finished speaking with them. But somehow I didn't think that was it. Call it a hunch, but I was betting the guards were there waiting for me. What was my first clue? They were nude except for enough leather belts and straps to hold swords and daggers, and boots that came to their knees.

  "I'm sensing a theme," Rhys said.

  So was I. Because not only were they more nude even than Hawthorne and Ivi had been, but they were also vegetative deities. Adair still bore the name of what he had been once, for adair means "oak grove." His skin was the color of sunlight through leaves, that color more common among the Seelie than the Unseelie, the color we call sun-kissed. His ankle-length brown hair had been butchered short, shorter than Amatheon's by nearly half a foot. Someone had shorn him, so that there was almost nothing left to remind the eye what beauty once framed that golden body.

  Amatheon spoke as if I'd asked, "I was not the only one who was reluctant, Princess. She began her... example with Adair."

  Adair's eyes were three circles of gold and yellow, like staring into the sun. Those eyes held nothing as he watched us come toward the doors. He had been cast out of the Seelie Court for speaking too strongly against their king, and to avoid exile from faerie he had joined the Unseelie. But he had never truly taken to the dark court's way of life. He existed among us, and tried to be invisible.

  I spoke low: "I know why you do not want my bed, but Adair and I have no quarrel."

  "He wants to be left alone, Princess. He wants to not be involved in this fight."

  "Unless you're Switzerland, there is no neutrality," I said.

  "So he learned."

  The other guard still stood in a cloak of his own pale yellow hair. That hair framed a body that was a pale whitish-grey, not moonlight skin like mine, but a soft, almost dusty color. His eyes gleamed out of a narrow, high-cheekboned face, eyes the color of dark green leaves, with an inner star of paler green like some sort of starred jewel. His lips were the reddest, ripest, prettiest in the courts, either court, if you asked me. The ladies envied him that mouth, and only the brightest, most crimson of lipsticks came close to producing it. His name was Briac, though he preferred to be called Brii. Briac was just another form of the name Brian, and had nothing to do with plants or agriculture. I knew that Brii was some sort of plant deity, or had been, but beyond that his name kept its secrets.

  He smiled as we came nearer—those red, red lips, distracting from the jewels of his eyes, the curtain of his hair, and even the long naked lines of his body. As if he felt me looking, his body began to respond, as if my approach was enough to whet his anticipation and bring him partially erect.

  Adair's body was as empty of reaction to my approach as his eyes. He was lucky I was not my aunt, for she sometimes took lack of response on an involuntary level as a personal insult. I did not. Adair had, at the very least, had his pride cut away with his hair. I had no idea what other pains my aunt had put him through to make him willing to stand at this door and await me. He was angry, on that I would have bet a great deal. Anger and embarrassment are not always the best aphrodisiac. My aunt has never truly understood that.

  Brii's head went to one side like a bird. His smile slipped a little. "You have not done your duty by the princess."

  "There was an assassination attempt on the princess," Doyle said.

  The last of his smile was gone. "The blood."

  "What else did you think it was from?" I asked.

  He shrugged and gave a rueful smile. "Someone else's blood smeared on the queen's face would mean she had a very, very good time. My apologies for assuming the same of you." He gave a bow that swept his hair out and around one arm like a cloak then stood up smiling again, with that look in his eyes that was all male, and said plainly that no amount of unpleasantness could take all the pleasure from this duty, at least not for him.

  Adair stood on the other side of the doors, wooden-faced and limp-bodied. He wouldn't even look at me.

  "We must tell the queen of the attack." Doyle moved up as if to touch the doors.

  Adair moved first, but Brii followed, and their arms crossed in front of the door handles. "Our orders were very specific," Adair said. His voice tried to be as empty as the rest of him, but failed. There was a razor-thin edge of rage in those simple words. So much so, that it danced a line of magic down the hall, across our skins like tiny bites. He was fighti
ng very, very hard to control himself.

  I rubbed my arm where the edge of his power had touched me, had hurt me, totally by accident, and cursed my aunt. She'd made it so that Adair would obey her orders and bed me, but she'd made certain that neither one of us would enjoy it.

  "And what were those orders?" Doyle said, his dark voice, lower even than normal, sounding as if it would crawl down your spine and hunt for vital organs.

  Brii answered, trying to make his voice upbeat, conciliatory. I didn't blame him; I wouldn't have wanted to be standing between Doyle and Adair when the flags went up, either. "If the ring knows both Hawthorne and Ivi, then they are to service the princess as soon as possible. If the ring does not know both of them, then one of us is to take the place of the one the ring did not recognize." He smiled, at Doyle, as if trying to ease some of the tension. It didn't work.

  "Open the door, Brii. We have much to tell the queen, and much of it is not only dangerous but also not something to be discussed in the hallway, where more ears may hear us than the queen would like."

  Brii actually moved back, but Adair did not. Somehow I'd known he wouldn't. "The queen has been at great pains to be certain that I follow all her orders. I will do as she has... bid me, and follow those orders to the absolute letter. I will not give her cause to abuse me again this day." The anger had quieted and didn't bite down the hall now, but Doyle moved like a horse when a fly settles on it. Perhaps all that stinging anger had gone only on his skin.

  "I am captain here, Adair, not you."

  "It is good to have you back, Captain" —Adair made that last word an insult—"but whatever your rank, it is not greater than the queen's. She is our master, not you. She made this very clear to me, Darkness, very clear."

  They were almost touching, so terribly close, almost too close to fight. "You refuse my direct order?"

  "I refuse to disobey the queen's direct order, yes."

  "I ask you one last time, Adair, will you step aside?"

  "No, Darkness, I will not."