Rhys’s face turned milky as if something white and luminous moved under his skin, like soft, glowing clouds—moved not across his face but underneath the skin of his face. The brilliant cornflower blue around his pupil glowed like neon; the sky blue that circled it was a match for the sunny sky outside; and the last circle of winter sky shimmered like blue heat. The eye only glowed. The colors didn’t swirl, and I knew they could. His hair was still just white curls; the glow hadn’t spread to them. I’d seen Rhys when his power was full upon him, and this wasn’t one of those times, but it was close, too close for the bright office and the man behind me.
I both wanted to turn and see Doyle’s face, and didn’t. I really didn’t want a full-out duel here and now, especially over something this stupid. “Rhys,” I said softly. He didn’t look at me. That one glowing orb was set on the man behind me, as if nothing else existed.
“Rhys!” I said again, voice more urgent.
He blinked, looked down at me. Having the full weight of all that anger directed at me made me scoot the chair back. The moment I realized what I’d done, I stopped myself. I couldn’t take the movement back, but I could pretend I’d meant to do it. I stood up, and that was my biggest mistake. Standing up made Kitto scoot out from under the desk, trying to keep himself huddled around my legs. The moment the little goblin was visible, Rhys’s angry gaze dropped down to that pale figure, dropped down and hardened.
Kitto seemed to feel that gaze, because he wrapped his arms around my legs so tightly that I almost fell. I had to recover my balance, a hand on the desktop, and Rhys threw himself across the desk, glowing hands scrambling for Kitto. I felt Doyle stand behind me, but there was no time. I’d seen Rhys kill with a touch. I grabbed the front and back of his coat and used his own momentum to slide him off the desk and into the wall past Doyle’s legs. The wall shuddered with the impact, and I had a second to wonder what would have happened if he’d hit the windows instead. I saw from the corner of my eye that Doyle’s gun was out, but I was still moving, still carried along on my own momentum.
I drew the knife at my thigh, and as Rhys came up on his hands and knees, shaking his head, I pressed the tip of the blade against the side of his neck. It would have been better if I could have pinned him, or done anything to make sure he couldn’t simply turn and take my legs out from under me, but it was the best I could do in the time I had. I knew how quickly the guards recovered, and I’d had only seconds to do anything.
Rhys froze, head down, breathing ragged. I could feel the line of his body tense against my legs. I was too close, so too close, but the blade was firm against the side of his neck. I could feel the skin give a little under the blade tip and knew I’d bloodied him. I hadn’t meant to; I was just too rushed to be careful. But he didn’t know it was an accident, and nothing convinces people you mean business like their own blood.
“I’d hoped you would grow more tolerant of Kitto as time ran on, but you seem to be getting worse.” My voice was soft, almost a whisper, each word spoken very carefully, as though I didn’t trust what I might do if I yelled. In truth I could barely speak past the pulse in my throat.
Rhys shifted his head, and I kept the point where it was, letting him put a little more flesh on the blade. If he thought I’d move back, he was wrong. He stopped moving. “Understand this, Rhys, Kitto is mine, as you are all mine. I won’t let your prejudices endanger him.”
His voice squeezed out, as if he was finally aware that I might use the blade as it was meant to be used. “You’d kill me over a goblin.”
“I’d kill you for harming what is mine to protect. By attacking him like this, you’ve shown me no respect, none. Last night Doyle showed me no respect. If I’ve learned anything from my aunt and my father, it’s that a leader who is not respected by her people is just a figurehead. I will not be something you fuck and cuddle. I will be queen or I will be nothing to you.” My voice had dropped down even lower, so that the last words were said in a hoarse whisper. And I knew in that moment that I meant it, that if spilling Rhys’s blood would gain me the power I needed, I’d kill him. I’d known Rhys my entire life. He was my lover, and on some level, my friend. Yet I could kill him. I’d miss him, and I’d regret the necessity of having to do it, but I knew now that I had to make the guards respect me. I lusted after the guards; I liked the ones I was sleeping with; I even half loved one or two, but there were precious few I’d want to see on the throne. Absolute power, true life and death—who would you trust with that kind of power? Which of the guards was incorruptible? Answer, none. Everyone has their blind spots, the place where they are so sure of themselves that they see only their own rightness. I trusted myself, yet there were days when I doubted me. I was hoping that doubt would keep me honest. Maybe I was fooling myself. Maybe no one can be given that kind of power and stay fair and just. Maybe that old saying is true; power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely. I’d do my best, but I knew one thing for certain: if I didn’t get a handle on the situation now, the guards would ride over me. I might gain the throne, but I’d lose everything else. I didn’t even really want the throne; but I wanted to rule, to rule and try to make things better. And, of course, that very desire was probably my blind spot, and the beginnings of corruption. To think I knew what would be better for all the Unseelie. How terribly arrogant.
I started to laugh. I laughed so hard, I had to sit down on the floor. I held the bloody knife and watched the two guards gaze down at me, worried looks on their faces. Rhys wasn’t glowing anymore. Kitto touched my arm, gently, as if afraid of what I’d do. I wrapped my arms around him, hugged him to me, and the tears streaming down my face stopped behind laughter, and I simply cried. I held Kitto and the bloody knife and cried.
I was no better than the others. Power corrupts—of course it does. That’s what it’s for. I huddled on the floor and let Kitto rock me, and I didn’t fight when Doyle took the knife, very gently, from my hand.
Chapter 4
I ENDED UP HUDDLED IN ONE OF MY OWN CLIENT CHAIRS WITH a mug of hot mint tea and my boss, Jeremy Grey. I don’t know what had alerted him to the trouble, but he’d come through the door like a small, neat storm. He’d ordered everyone out, and Doyle, of course, had argued that Jeremy couldn’t guarantee my safety. Jeremy had countered with, “Neither can any of you.” The silence in the room had been profound, and Doyle had gone without another word. Rhys had followed with a handkerchief pressed to his neck, trying to keep any more blood spots off his white coat.
Kitto had stayed because I was clinging to him, but I was calmer now. Kitto merely sat at my feet, one arm across my knees, the other running up and down the front of my leg. It was a sign of nervousness when a fey touched someone too intimately and too often, but I was stroking Kitto’s hair in endless circles with my free hand, so it was all right. We were even.
Jeremy leaned against my desk watching me. He was dressed, as always, in a designer suit, perfectly tailored to his four-feet, eleven-inch frame. He was an inch shorter than me, strong and slender, with a masculine swell of shoulders. The suit was charcoal grey, about five shades darker than his own skin. His short, immaculate barbered hair was lighter grey than his skin, but not by much. Even his eyes were grey. His smile was a brilliant white, the best caps money could buy, and matched the white dress shirt he’d chosen for the day. The only thing that truly ruined his perfect modern profile was the nose. He’d spent loads on his teeth, but left the rather long and beaky nose alone. I’d never questioned it, but Teresa had. She was only human, after all, and didn’t understand that among the fey a personal question is the worst insult. To imply in the same breath that something about their physique is not appealing … well, it just wasn’t done. Jeremy had explained that a large nose among the trow was like large feet among humans. Teresa had blushed and not asked any more questions. I’d gone over and rubbed his nose with my fingertips and said ooh. It had made him laugh.
He crossed his arms over his chest, flashing the gold
of his Rolex, and looked at me. Among the fey it was impolite to ask why a person was having hysterics. Hell, sometimes it was considered impolite to notice they were having hysterics at all. Usually that was for ruling royalty, though. Everyone had to pretend that the king or queen wasn’t bug nuts. Mustn’t admit that centuries of inbreeding had done any damage.
He took a deep breath, let it out, and then sighed. “As your boss, I need to know if you’re up to the rest of your appointments today.” It was a nicely circular way of asking what was wrong, without actually asking.
I nodded, raising the tea up to my face, not to drink, but just to breathe in the sweet scent of peppermint and spearmint intermingled. “I’ll be okay, Jeremy.”
He raised eyebrows that I happened to know he had plucked and shaped. Apparently trow have that bushy-eyebrow-across-the-entire-head thing going. The beetle-browed Neanderthal look just doesn’t go with Armani suits and Gucci loafers.
I could have just left it at that, and by our culture he’d have had to accept my word and let it go. But Jeremy had been my boss and friend for years, long before he knew I was Princess anything. He’d given me a job on my own merits, not because the publicity of having a real live faerie princess on staff brought in business galore. In fact, the massive media coverage had made me useless for undercover work unless I used major personal glamour to change my appearance. Most of the reporters who specialized in tracking the fey had some magical ability. If they spotted the glamour, then it dissolved. Sometimes just for that reporter, but sometimes, if they were psychically talented enough, the glamour failed for everyone in sight. That was a very, very bad thing in the middle of an undercover operation.
I’d been out among the humans long enough to think I owed Jeremy an explanation. “I don’t exactly know what happened, Jeremy. Rhys started ranting about goblins, then he made a grab for Kitto, and I threw him into the wall.”
Jeremy looked surprised, which wasn’t very flattering, or polite.
I frowned at him. “I may not be in the same weight class as they are, Jeremy, but I can put my fist through a car door and not break a bone.”
“Your guards could probably lift the car up and drop it on somebody.”
I took a sip of tea. “Yeah, they’re stronger than they look.”
He gave a small laugh. “You, my dainty beauty, do not look anywhere near as tough as you are.”
“I return the compliment,” I said, toasting him with the mug.
He smiled, flashing that expensive smile. “Yes, I have surprised a few humans in my day.” The smile faded around the edges. “If you had just told me to mind my own business, I’d have done it, but you volunteered information, so I’m going to ask some questions. Just tell me if you don’t want to answer.”
I nodded. “I started it, Jeremy. Go ahead.”
“Rhys didn’t get blood on his coat from you throwing him into a wall.”
“That’s not a question,” I said.
He shrugged. “How did he get bloodied?”
“A knife.”
“Doyle?”
I shook my head. “I cut Rhys.”
“Because he tried to hurt Kitto?”
I nodded, but I met Jeremy’s direct gaze with one of my own. “They wouldn’t obey my orders last night. If I don’t gain their respect, Jeremy, I may gain the throne, but I will be queen in name only. I don’t want to risk my life and the lives of people I care about just to be some sort of figurehead.”
“So you cut Rhys up to prove a point?”
“Partly. And partly, I just reacted, didn’t think. He was trying to hurt Kitto over some stupid thing that happened centuries ago. Kitto has never given Rhys any reason to hate him like this.”
“Our fair-haired guard hates goblins, Merry.”
“Kitto is a goblin, Jeremy. He can’t change that.”
Jeremy nodded. “No, he can’t.”
We looked at each other. “What am I going to do?”
“You don’t mean just with Rhys, do you?”
We exchanged another long look, and I had to look down, but that meant staring into Kitto’s searching blue gaze. Everywhere I looked, people were expecting something of me. Kitto wanted me to take care of him. Jeremy, well, he just wanted me to be happy, I think.
“I thought I had their respect back in Illinois, but it’s as if something’s changed over the last three months.”
“What?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
Kitto raised his head, which slid my hand to the warm curve of his neck. “Doyle,” he said softly.
I looked down at him. “What about Doyle?”
He half lowered his eyes, as if afraid to look directly at me. He wasn’t being coy; it was a habitual gesture, a subservient gesture. “Doyle says you made a good start, but you have made no use of your treaty with the goblins.” He raised his eyes a little. “You have the goblins as your allies for only three more months, Merry. For three more months if the Unseelie go to battle, it is you who the Queen must come to for the goblin’s aid, not our King Kurag. Doyle fears you are simply going to fuck everyone and make no move on your enemies.”
“What’s he want me to do, declare war on someone?”
Kitto hid his face against my knee. “I do not know, mistress, but I do know that the others follow Doyle’s lead. It is he who you must win over, not the others.”
Jeremy pushed away from my desk, came closer to the two of us. “I find it a little strange that sidhe warriors would speak so freely in front of you. No offense, Kitto, but you are a goblin. Why would they confide in you?”
“They did not, as you say, confide in me. But sometimes they talk over me like I am not there. Like you just did.”
Jeremy frowned. “I am talking to you, not over you, Kitto.”
He looked up at both of us. “But before, you were talking as if I were something that couldn’t understand you, like a dog or a chair. All of you do it.”
I blinked down at him, staring into that innocent face. I wanted to deny it, but I held my tongue and thought about what he’d said. Was he right? The conversation that I’d just had with Jeremy had been private, sort of. Kitto had just been there. I hadn’t wanted his opinion, or his help. Truthfully, I hadn’t thought he could be of any help. I saw him as someone to be taken care of, a duty, not a friend, not, truthfully, a person.
I sighed and let my hand fall away from him, so that he was touching me, but I wasn’t touching him. His eyes widened frantically, and he grabbed my hand, put it back on his head. “Please, don’t be angry with me. Please!”
“I’m not angry, Kitto, but I think you’re right. I treat you like you’re a pet, not a person. I would never just sit and pet one of the other men. I’ve been taking liberties. I’m sorry.”
He rose to his knees. “No, no, that’s not what I meant. I love that you touch me. It makes me feel safe. It’s the only thing that makes me feel safe here in this … place.” The look on his face was distant, lost.
I offered the tea mug to Jeremy, who took it and put it on the edge of my desk. I cupped Kitto’s face in my hands, moved his gaze back to mine. “You tell me I treat you like a dog, a chair, and I try to treat you like a person, and you don’t want that either. I don’t understand what you want of me, Kitto.”
He put his warm hands against mine, pressed my flesh firm against his face. His hands were so small; he was the only man I’d ever met with hands smaller than mine. “I always want you to touch me, Merry. Don’t stop. I don’t mind that people talk over me. It lets me hear things, know things.”
“Kitto,” I said softly.
He clambered into my lap like a child, forcing my hands to encircle him to keep him from falling. My right hand slid over the slickness of the scales on his back; my left cupped the smooth, hairless curve of his thigh. The sidhe didn’t have much body hair, and snake goblins had none. The mixed heritage had left Kitto smooth and perfect like he’d been waxed from neck to toe. It adde
d to the doll-like image and made him seem perpetually childlike. He’d been a product of the last sidhe-goblin war, which meant Kitto was a little over two thousand years old. I knew my history, I knew the date, but holding him in my arms like an oversize doll, it was hard to really believe it. Almost impossible to grasp that the man curled in my lap had been born not long before the death of Christ.
Doyle was even older, and Frost, too. Rhys, under a different name, which he would never tell me, had been worshipped as a death deity. Nicca was only a few hundred years old, young by comparison. Galen was only seventy years older than me; in the courts it was almost the same thing as being raised together.
I’d grown up seeing them all remain the same. They were immortal; I wasn’t. I was aging a little slower than a pure human, but not by much. I was about a decade or two behind where I should have been. Twenty extra years was great, but it wasn’t forever.
I looked up at Jeremy for a hint of what to do with the goblin. He spread his hands wide. “Don’t look at me. I’ve never had an employee crawl into my lap and want to be petted.”
“He doesn’t exactly want to be petted,” I said. “He wants to be reassured.”
“If you have all the answers, Merry, then why don’t you reassure him?” Jeremy said.
“A little privacy, maybe,” I said. The moment I asked for privacy I felt Kitto’s body begin to relax against me. He slid his arm underneath my suit jacket, to curve at the small of my back. His knees unclenched enough so that he tucked them underneath my arm, sending my hand on his thigh sliding downward to the very edge of his shorts. Since Kitto never saw clients, he got to dress like it was casual day every day.
Jeremy straightened his tie, smoothed the edges of his jacket. Nervous gestures, all. “I’ll leave you two alone, though I think that once Doyle finds out you’re alone except for Kitto, he’ll be in here.”
A Caress of Twilight Page 4