A Caress of Twilight mg-2

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  "Speak freely, Princess, and do not toy with this old goblin."

  "I have spoken as freely as I intend to, Kurag, Goblin King."

  He blew out a loud breath. "Merry girl, you are too much your father's daughter. Essus was my favorite of all the sidhe. His loss was great to all the courts of the Unseelie, for he was true friend to many."

  "That means a great deal coming from you, Kurag." I didn't thank him, because you never thank an older fey. Some of the younger ones are cool with it now, but it's an old prohibition among us, almost a taboo.

  "Do you honor all the oaths your father gave?"

  "No, some I did not agree with, and some I know nothing of."

  "I thought he told you everything," Kurag said.

  "I am not a baby anymore, Kurag. I know that even my father kept his secrets. I was young when he died. Some things I wasn't ready to know."

  "You are wise as well as luscious; how sad. Sometimes I'd have liked you better if you'd been just a little more stupid. I like my women less bright than I am."

  "Kurag, you old charmer."'

  He laughed then, a true laugh, and it was contagious. I laughed with him, and as the eyes began to fade out of the blade, he spoke. "I will think on what your Darkness has said, and what you have said, and even what your father said. But you must give true sustenance to my goblin or in three months I will be free of you."

  "You'll never be free of me, Kurag, not until you've fucked me. Or that's what you told me when I was sixteen."

  He laughed; but at the end, he said, "I used to think things would have been safer if you'd agreed to be my queen, but I'm beginning to think you're just too dangerous to be allowed that close to any throne."

  Chapter 25

  Kitto lay against the dark burgundy sheets like a ghost. His black curls made him seem paler. His eyes kept fluttering open, flashing blue, then shutting, leaving his blue eyes like gleaming bruises behind the thin skin of his closed lids.

  I touched his bare shoulder. "He still looks... almost translucent."

  "The lesser fey fade in truth," Doyle said. He stood beside me in front of the mirrored dresser.

  Rhys stood at the foot of the bed and stared down at the goblin. "He's not up to sex, no pun intended."

  I looked at him. He looked unhappy, maybe even worried, but that was all. "You're not going to protest about me sharing my body with a goblin?"

  "Would it do me any good?" he asked.

  "No," I said.

  He gave a weak version of his grin. "Then I might as well start making the best of it. Besides, I don't think we have to worry about you doing the bump and grind with him tonight. There's not enough of him left."

  "Merry must share flesh with Kitto to bring him back to himself," Doyle said.

  I sat down on the edge of the bed, and Kitto rolled toward me like the sea pulled by the moon. He cuddled against me with a sigh that was almost a whimper.

  "He can't take a bite out of me if he's not conscious."

  "Put power into him as you did the sword," Doyle said. "Make him aware of you, as you made Kurag aware of you."

  I looked down at the tiny man. He seemed asleep, but his skin still had that awful thin quality like it was wearing away. I stroked my hand down his shoulder. He wiggled closer to me, but did not wake.

  I leaned over him, putting my mouth just above the skin of his shoulder. I had raised my shields automatically when I'd finished using the magic to contact Kurag. Shielding was like breathing for me. It was dropping them that took concentration. I'd learned to shield about the same time I learned to read.

  But this wasn't a spell; this was less, and more than that. The human witches call it natural magic, which means a natural ability you can perform without much training or effort.

  I drew magic, energy, into my breath and blew it across his skin. I willed him to wake, to see me.

  Kitto's eyes fluttered open, and this time he did see me. His voice came hoarse, "Merry."

  I smiled at him, touching the curls on the side of his pale face. "Yes, Kitto, it's me."

  He frowned, and grimaced as if something hurt. "What's happening?"

  "You need to take flesh from me."

  He continued to frown up at me as if he hadn't understood.

  I took off my jacket and began unbuttoning my blouse. I probably could have pushed the sleeve up enough to expose my shoulder, but I didn't want to get blood on the white material. The bra underneath was white, as well, but I was pretty sure I could keep it from getting stained if I was careful.

  Kitto's eyes had widened. "Flesh?" He made it a question.

  "Leave your mark on my body, Kitto."

  "We contacted Kurag," Doyle said. "He said that the reason you are ailing is that your mark with Meredith has healed. Her energy must sustain you away from faerie, and for that you need a new sharing of flesh."

  Kitto stared up at the tall dark man. "I don't understand."

  I touched his face, turned his eyes back to me. "Does it matter, does anything matter except the scent of my skin?" I put my wrist next to his face, then slid my arm slowly, just above his lips, so that our bodies touched here and there. I ended on my knees by the bed, taking my other arm behind his head to bring his face close to the upper part of my free arm, just below the shoulder. During sex, biting is great, even some bloodletting; but this was cold, and I wasn't ready for it. This was going to hurt, so I preferred it be somewhere with some cushioning, some meat.

  His pupils had gone to thin black slits. There was a stillness to him, but it was not static. It was a stillness full of so many things, eagerness, need, and hunger, a terrible blind hunger. Something in that moment, as he watched the white flesh of my shoulder, reminded me his father was not just a goblin, but a snake goblin. Kitto was becoming warm and so terribly mammalian, yet something of that reptilian stillness was in him. He was still a small version of a sidhe warrior; but watching his body tense, I was reminded of a snake about to strike. For a moment, I was afraid of him, then he was moving in a blur of speed, and I fought with myself not to flinch away.

  It was like being hit in the arm with a baseball bat, like being bitten by a large dog. It was the impact that startled, but it didn't exactly hurt, not right away. Blood poured from his lips down my arm. He worried at it like a dog trying to break the neck of a rat, and I cried out.

  I slumped down the side of the bed, away from him, and he stayed at my shoulder, teeth dug into my flesh. Blood dripped onto my chest, staining the white bra.

  I drew my breath from deep inside my body, but I didn't scream. He was a goblin; screaming and fighting back just drove them to blood lust. I blew my breath soft upon his face. He stayed locked on my arm, eyes closed, face enraptured. I blew one quick hard breath in his face the way you do on small pets when they bite. Most things don't like having you blow in their face, especially on their eyes.

  It made him open his eyes. I watched Kitto flow back into those eyes, watched him fill back up, while the animal receded. He let go of my arm.

  I slumped back against the dresser, and the pain was sharp and immediate. I had the urge to curse him soundly, but staring up into his face, I couldn't.

  Blood covered his mouth like lipstick gone wild. It dripped down his chin, stained his throat. His eyes were focused, and he was himself again, but he still ran that narrow forked tongue across tiny bloodstained teeth. He rolled back onto the bed and basked in the afterglow.

  I just sat on the floor and bled.

  Doyle knelt behind me with a small towel in his hands. He raised my arm, wrapping the towel around it, not so much to stop the bleeding, but to catch the blood and keep it from getting all over everything.

  The scent of flowers filled the air, pleasant but strong. Doyle glanced up at the mirror. "Someone is asking permission to speak through the mirror."

  "Who is it?"

  "I am not sure. Niceven, perhaps."

  I looked at my bloody arm. "Is this a good enough show?"

 
"If you do not show pain while we bind the wound, yes."

  I sighed. "Great. Help me sit on the edge of the bed." He lifted me in his arms and sat me on the bed. "I didn't need that much help."

  "My apologies. I didn't know how hurt you might be."

  "I'll live." I took the towel and held it on the wound. Kitto curled around me, his face still bloodstained. He'd kicked off all the sheets, so that with his body pressed up against mine you couldn't see his short-shorts from the mirror. He'd look naked. He writhed against me, his forked tongue licking the blood from his lips, and further around his mouth. His hands stroked along my waist and hips.

  Kurag could say what he wished, but taking flesh this way was sex for the goblins.

  "Answer them, Doyle, then get me something to stop the blood."

  He smiled and gave a small bow. He motioned and the mirror sprang to life showing a hook-nosed man with skin the color of bluebells.

  It was Hedwick, King Taranis's social secretary. Not only was he not Niceven, but he was so not going to appreciate the show.

  Chapter 26

  Hedwick didn't even look out from the mirror. He was reading down a list, face half-averted. "Greetings to Princess Meredith NicEssus from the High King Taranis Thunderer. This is to inform you of a pre-Yule ball three days hence. His majesty looks forward to seeing you there."

  During the speech, he had not looked out at the room. His hand was actually reaching out to cleanse the mirror when I spoke.

  I said the one word he probably didn't expect to hear. "No."

  His hand went down, and he looked up into the room with a cross look on his face. The look gave way to astonishment, then disgust. Maybe it was watching Kitto writhe on the bed. Maybe it was me being splattered with blood. Whatever, he didn't like the show.

  "You are Princess Meredith NicEssus, are you not?" His voice dripped with disdain, as if he found it hard to believe.

  "Yes."

  "Then we will see you at the ball." Again his hand went up to cleanse the mirror.

  "No," I said again.

  He lowered his hand and scowled at me. "I have quite a few invitations to make today, Princess, so I do not have time for histrionics."

  I smiled, but could feel my eyes going hard. But underneath the anger was pleasure. Hedwick had always been an officious little bootlicker, and I knew that he gave the invitations to all the lesser fey, lesser people. Another sidhe handled all the important social contacts. That Hedwick had extended the invitation was an insult; the way he'd given it was a double insult.

  "I'm not the least bit hysterical, Hedwick. I cannot accept the invitation as it stands."

  He bristled, his fingers going to his fluffy white cravat. He was dressed as if the 1700s had never passed. At least he wasn't wearing a wig. For that I was grateful.

  "The high king himself commands your presence, Princess." He sounded like he always did, as if it was the utmost honor to toady for the king.

  "I am Unseelie and I have no high king," I said.

  Doyle knelt at my feet with a small basket of medical supplies. We'd started keeping them near at hand, though the bites from the other guards were usually nowhere near this bad.

  Hedwick's gaze flicked down to Doyle, then up to me with a frown. "You are a Seelie princess."

  Doyle moved around me so that he was on the side with the wound. He took the towel, applying direct pressure with it.

  I took a slightly sharper breath as he pressed the cloth very firmly into the bite, but other than that my voice was normal. I sounded all business as Doyle tended my wound and Kitto writhed against me.

  "It was agreed that my title in the Unseelie Court supercedes my Seelie title. Now that I am heir to the Unseelie throne I can no longer acknowledge my uncle as high king. For me to acknowledge the title might imply that he was also high king of the Unseelie, and that is not true.

  Hedwick was clearly perplexed. He was good at following orders, flattering those above him, and playing errand boy. I was forcing him to think. He wasn't used to having to do anything that complex.

  He smoothed his cravat again, and finally, looking a great deal less sure of himself, he said, "As you like. Then King Taranis commands your presence at the ball three days hence."

  Doyle's gaze flicked up to my face at that. I smiled and gave a small shake of my head. I'd caught it.

  "Hedwick, the only royal who can command my presence is the Queen of Air and Darkness."

  He shook his head stubbornly. "The king can command the presence of anyone of lesser title than he, and you are not a queen yet -- " He stressed the yet. " -- Princess Meredith."

  Doyle opened the towel to see if my wound had stopped bleeding. Apparently it had, because he got some antiseptic to clean the wound.

  "If I was King Taranis's royal heir, then he could command me, but I am not his heir. I am Queen Andais's heir. Only she can command me, because only she outranks me."

  Hedwick flinched at the mention of the queen's true name. All the Seelie were like that, never invoking her true name, as if afraid it would call her to them.

  "Are you saying that you outrank the king?" He sounded truly outraged.

  Doyle began to clean the wound with soft gauze; even so, the little touches sent tiny shock waves of pain through my arm. I gritted my teeth a little and fought not to show it. "I am saying that order of rank in the Seelie Court has no meaning for me anymore, Hedwick. When I was merely a princess of the Unseelie Court, I could also have had the same rank at the Seelie Court. But I am to be queen. I cannot have a lesser rank in any other court if I am to rule."

  "There are queens aplenty in the court who acknowledge Taranis as their high king."

  "I am aware of that, Hedwick, but they are part of the Seelie Court, and they are not sidhe. I am part of the Unseelie Court and I am sidhe."

  "You are niece to the King," he said, still trying to think his way through the political maze I'd thrown up around him.

  "So nice of someone to remember that, but it would be as if Andais had called Eluned and asked her for acknowledgment as her high queen."

  "Princess Eluned has no ties to the Unseelie Court." Hedwick sounded terribly offended.

  I sighed, and it went sharp as Doyle finished cleaning the wound. "Hedwick, try to understand this. I will be Queen of the Unseelie Court. I am royal heir. King Taranis cannot command me to do anything or to appear anywhere, because I am not his royal heir."

  "Are you refusing to appear at the king's command?" He still looked like he didn't trust his own ears. He had to have misheard something.

  "The king has no right to command me, Hedwick. It would be like him having you call the president of the United States with a command to appear."

  "You grow above your station, Meredith."

  I let the anger show on my face. "And you no longer seem to know what yours is, Hedwick."

  "You truly are refusing the king's command?" Astonishment showed through his voice, his face, his posture.

  "Yes, because he is not my king, and cannot command anyone outside his own kingdom."

  "Are you saying you renounce all titles that you hold in the Seelie Court?"

  Doyle touched my arm, made me look at him. His gaze said, careful here.

  "No, Hedwick, and for you to say such a thing is deliberately insulting. You are a minor functionary, a message carrier, nothing more."

  "I am the king's social secretary," he said, trying to pull himself up to every inch of his small height, even though he was sitting down.

  "You carry messages to lesser fey and to humans of no great account. All the important invitations go through Rosmerta, and you know it. Sending his invitation through you and not her was an insult."

  "You do not merit the attentions of the Duchess Rosmerta."

  I shook my head. "Your message is incomplete, Hedwick. You'd best go back to your master and learn a new one. One that has a chance of being well received."

  I nodded at Doyle. He stood and blanked the m
irror in the middle of Hedwick's sputtering. Doyle smiled, almost grinned at me. "Well done."

  "You just insulted the King of Light and Illusion," Rhys said. He looked pale.

  "No, Rhys, he insulted me, and more than that. If I had accepted such a command from Taranis, it could have been interpreted that when I gain the Unseelie throne, I would acknowledge him as high king over the Unseelie as well as the Seelie."

  "Could it have been the secretary's error?" Frost asked. "Could he simply have used the same words with you as everyone on his list?"

  "Perhaps, but if so, it was still an insult."

  "Insult, maybe. But, Merry, we can swallow a few insults to stay out of the king's bad graces," Rhys said. He sat down on the far end of the bed as if his knees were weak.

  "No, we cannot," Doyle said.

  We all looked at him. "Don't you see, Rhys? Merry will rule Taranis's rival kingdom. She must set the rules now, or he will forever treat her as less. For the sake of all of us, she must not appear weak."

  "What will the king do?" Frost asked.

  Doyle looked at him, and they had one of those long looks. "In absolute truth, I do not know."

  "Has anyone ever defied him like this?" Frost asked.

  "I don't know," Doyle said.

  "No," I said.

  They looked at me.

  "Just as you walk around Andais like she's a snake about to strike, you tiptoe around Taranis the same way."

  "He does not seem as frightening as the queen," Frost said.

  I shrugged, and it hurt, so I stopped. "He's like a big spoiled child who's had his own way for far too long. If he doesn't get what he wants, he throws tantrums. The servants and lackeys live in fear of those tantrums. He's been known to accidentally kill in one of his rages. Sometimes he's sorry, sometimes he's not."

  "And you just threw a steel gauntlet into his face," Rhys said, staring at me from the end of the bed.

  "One thing I always noticed about Taranis's temper was that it never struck out at anyone powerful. If he was in this uncontrollable rage, then why was it always directed at people who were powerless to fight back? Always, his victims were either magically inferior, or politically inferior, or people with no strong allies among the sidhe." I shook my head. "No, Rhys, he always knows who he's lashing out at. It's not mindless. He won't hurt me, because I stood my ground. He'll respect me, and maybe begin to worry about me."