A Lick of Frost mg-6

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  "But accurate," Hugh said.

  "What else has happened for you to be so cautious, firelord?" Rhys asked.

  "I think that is a conversation for a more private audience, pale lord."

  "I can't argue with that," Rhys said.

  I was beginning to get the feeling that Rhys and Hugh knew each other better than I'd realized.

  "What do we do about this day, and this moment?" I asked.

  "I am but a humble lord of the sidhe," Hugh said. "I do not carry the blood of the royal line in my body."

  "What does that mean?" I asked.

  "It means that the humans aren't the only ones who have laws." Hugh stared at me with his black-and-orange eyes. He seemed to be trying to tell me something without saying it out loud.

  "The Seelie would never go for it," Rhys said.

  "Go for what?" I asked, looking from one to the other.

  "The king lost his temper with one of the serving wenches," Hugh said. "A huge green dog appeared between him and the target of his anger."

  "A Cu Sith," I said.

  "Yes, a Cu Sith, after all these long years, a green dog of faerie is among us again, and protects those who need protecting. It would not allow the king to strike the serving girl. She seemed more terrified that he would blame her for the dog, but the king lost his anger in the face of the great dog."

  I remembered the dog from the night of the wild hunt. The night when wild magic had been everywhere. Huge black dogs had appeared, and when some touched them, they had changed to other dogs. Dogs out of legend, and a Cu Sith had run out into the night toward the Seelie Court.

  "I would be interested to see whose hand the Cu Sith would call master, or mistress," I said.

  "If we invoke this law," Rhys said, "it will be civil war in your own court, Hugh."

  "Perhaps it is time for a little civil disobedience," Hugh said.

  "What law?" I asked.

  Rhys turned to me. "If the monarch is unfit to rule, the nobles of the court can vote him, or her, incompetent. They can force him or her to step down. Andais abolished the rule in her court, but Taranis never bothered. He was too confident that his court loved him."

  "So, you're saying, what?" I, asked. "That Hugh force a vote among the nobles and they choose a new king?" It had possibilities, depending on whom they chose.

  "Not exactly, Merry," Rhys said.

  "Is she always this humble?" Hugh asked.

  "Often," Rhys said.

  "What?" I asked.

  Frost said, "The Seelie nobles will never accept her."

  "You don't know what has been happening here since she unlocked the magic. I think the vote may go in her favor."

  "The vote go in my favor." I finally caught on. "Oh, no, you aren't serious."

  "Yes, Princess Meredith, if you will agree to accept it, I will endeavor to make you our queen."

  I just stared at him. I tried to gather my wits, my training at court, and all I could manage to say was, "How sure are you that this will work?"

  "Sure enough to speak of it."

  "That means very sure," Rhys said.

  "I don't believe the Seelie will accept me as their queen, Hugh. But I know that before such a thing goes forward we must speak to our queen."

  "Speak to Andais if you must, but whatever you are to the Unseelie, you have brought back the old magic to the outside of the hill. Inside we are still dead and dying, but our spies tell us that your faerie mound grows, lives. Even the mound of the sluagh is alive once more. King Sholto brags of your magic, Princess."

  "King Sholto of the sluagh is a kind man."

  Hugh laughed, an abrupt, surprised sound. "Kind. The king of the sluagh? The nightmares of all faerie, and you call him kind."

  "I find him so," I said.

  Hugh nodded. "Kindness. It is not an emotion we have had in this court in years. I, for one, would like more of it."

  "I understand that," Rhys said.

  Hugh looked off to one side of the mirror, where we could not see. "I must go. Talk to your queen, but when the rest of the nobles know what Taranis did to Lady Caitrin, and that other nobles helped him, the vote will go against him."

  "Did he get the lady to lie, or did he bespell her, too?" Rhys asked.

  "He used his illusions to make three of our nobles appear as the three of you. But he made them monstrous, with projections and spines and…" Hugh shivered. "Her body was quite broken. She is even now still confined to her bed, even with our healers." He looked at me. "If you have need of healers for your men, but ask and it will be yours."

  "We will ask if we need them," I said, and I fought the urge to say thank you because Hugh was old enough to be offended by it.

  "What did the king hope to gain by such evil?" Frost asked.

  "We aren't certain," Hugh said, "but we can prove that he did it, and lied about it, and that the nobles involved lied as well. It is an abuse of magic that has almost no precedent among us."

  "And you can prove it?" Rhys asked.

  "We can." He looked off to the side again. He turned back to us, but there was a look of concern on his face. "I must go. Talk to your queen. Be ready." He gestured, and we were looking at our own reflections.

  "This smacks of court intrigue," Frost said.

  I watched Rhys and myself both nod solemnly in the mirror. Neither of us looked very happy.

  Veducci came up behind us. "You have been given amazing news, Princess Meredith. Why don't you look happier?"

  I answered his reflection rather than turning around. "It has been my experience that court intrigue usually ends badly. The Seelie Court has treated me worse than the Unseelie Court all of my life. I do not believe that a few new magics will make me queen of a people who despise me. If by some miracle it happens as Sir Hugh has stated, then I will have two sets of assassins to deal with instead of one." As soon as I said it, I knew I shouldn't have. My only excuse was the total shock of what had just happened.

  Rhys spoke quickly. "I assume the charges against me and my friends are dropped."

  Veducci turned to him. "If what Sir Hugh has just said is true, then yes, but until the lady herself drops the charges, they don't go away."

  "Even with what Hugh just said?" Frost asked.

  "As you pointed out, court intrigue can get ugly. People lie."

  "The sidhe do not lie," I said.

  Veducci stared hard at me. "Have there been assassination attempts on your life other than the one that happened at the airport, where you were shot at?"

  "She can't answer that without talking to Queen Andais," Rhys said. He put his arm across my shoulders. Frost did not give up my hand, so I stood pressed to both of them. I couldn't tell if Rhys's gesture was to reassure me or himself. It had been one of those days when we all needed a hug.

  "You do realize that is an answer," Veducci asked.

  "What kind of lawyer knows to carry just the right herbs in his pocket to disrupt such a spell?" I said.

  "I don't know what you mean." he said with a smile.

  "Liar." I whispered it, because I heard steps behind us.

  Biggs and Shelby were there. Biggs's suit jacket was gone. His shirtsleeve was rolled back, and there was a bandage on his arm. "I think King Taranis's actions today put his accusations against my clients in serious doubt."

  "We can't say yes to that without talking to some…" Shelby stopped, cleared his throat, and tried again, "We'll get back to you." He gathered his assistant and went for the door.

  "The nice young woman who fixed up my arm says I have to ride with them to the hospital," Biggs said. "My assistant will take you to a room where you can rest and gather yourselves before you have to leave."

  "Thank you, Mr. Biggs," I said. "I am sorry that the hospitality of faerie was not up to its usual standards."

  He laughed. "That is the most polite way I have ever heard anyone apologize for such a fucking mess." He raised his injured arm a little. "It was hard on me, and on your men, but if your unc
le, the king, had to choose a moment to have his meltdown, this wasn't a bad time for it. It certainly hurt his case and helped ours."

  "I suppose that's one way of looking at it," I said.

  Rhys hugged me, bumping his cheek against my hair. "Cheer up, sweets, we won."

  "No, the Seelie came to the rescue and saved our asses," I said.

  The female EMT came to touch Biggs's shoulder. "We're ready to go."

  Nelson was strapped to a gurney and looked unconscious. Cortez was beside her, looking more annoyed than worried.

  "Did Ms. Nelson get burned, too?" I asked.

  Biggs opened his mouth to answer, but the med techs made him go with them. Veducci answered me. "She seems to be having an adverse reaction to the spell that the king put on you."

  The look he gave me was entirely too knowledgeable. He knew magic. He wasn't a registered practitioner, but that didn't mean anything. A lot of humans who had psychic ability chose not to use it as a job.

  "A look like that used to get a question," Rhys said.

  "What question would that be?" Veducci asked.

  "Which eye can you see me with?" Rhys said.

  I tensed beside him, because I knew how this story always ended.

  Veducci grinned. "The answer you're supposed to give is neither."

  "The truth is both eyes," Frost said, and his voice was way too solemn for comfort.

  Veducci's grin faded around the edges. "None of you are trying to hide what you are. Everyone can see you."

  "Cheer up, Veducci," Rhys said. "The days when we used to put your eye out for seeing the wee folk are long past. The sidhe never held with that. If you could see us, the biggest danger from the sidhe was abduction. We were always intrigued with the humans who could see faerie." Rhys's voice was light and teasing, but there was an edge of seriousness to it that made Veducci look wary.

  Was I missing part of this conversation? Maybe. Did I care? A little. But I'd care more after I got to the hospital and checked on Doyle and Abe.

  "You can all be mysterious later," I said. "I want to go check on Doyle and Abe now."

  Veducci reached into his jacket pocket and held something out to me. "I thought you might want these."

  It was Doyle's sunglasses. One side of them was melted, as if some hot giant hand had crushed them into melted wax. My stomach fell into my shoes, then back up to my throat. I thought for a second that I'd throw up, then my head thought I just might faint. I hadn't seen Doyle's face underneath the bandages. How bad was it?

  "Do you need to sit down, Princess?" Veducci asked, and he was all solicitous. He actually moved to take my arm as if I wasn't already standing between two strong arms.

  Frost moved so that the lawyer couldn't touch me. "We have her."

  Veducci took a step back. "I see that." He gave a small bow and went back to the security guards who were talking to the police. A uniformed officer was waiting for us.

  "I need to ask you a few questions," he said.

  "Can you ask them on the way to the hospital? I need to check on my men."

  He hesitated. "Do you need a ride to the hospital, Princess Meredith?"

  I glanced at the clock behind the desk. We'd been driven here by Maeve Reed's driver in her limo. He'd planned on doing some errands for Ms. Reed, then coming back to pick us up in about three hours, or at least check on us. Surprisingly, it hadn't been three hours yet. "A ride would be lovely. Thank you, Officer," I said.

  CHAPTER 8

  DOYLE AND ABE HAD A ROOM TO THEMSELVES IN THE HOSPITAL, though when we hit the door with our nice escort of uniformed officers it was hard to tell who belonged in the room and who didn't. There was a crowd of my other guards and medical staff, way more medical staff than needed to be here, and predominantly female. And why did the uniforms who drove us come inside? Apparently, the police were a little fuzzy on whether the attacks on my guards was another attempt on my life. Better safe than sorry, they seemed to think. Seeing the number of men Rhys had ordered to meet us at the hospital, apparently he had thought the same thing.

  Abe was on his stomach, trying to talk to all the pretty nurses. He was in pain, but he was still who and what he'd always been. He had once been the god Accasbel, the physical embodiment of the cup of intoxication. It could make you a queen. It could inspire poetry, bravery, or madness. So the legends said. He'd opened the first pub in Ireland, and was the original party boy. If he hadn't been wincing every so often, I might have said he was having a good time. Instead, he might just be putting on a brave face. Or he might be enjoying the attention. I still didn't understand Abe well enough to guess.

  I had to weave my way through the crowd of my own lovely guards. On most days, I might have noticed them, but today they were just blocking my view of the one guard I wanted to see.

  Some of them tried to speak to me, but when I answered no one, they finally seemed to understand. They parted like a curtain of flesh, and I could finally see the other bed.

  Doyle lay terribly still. There was an I.V. hooked up to one arm, feeding him clear fluid. There was a small drip with knobs, which probably meant that some of the clear liquid was painkiller. Burns hurt.

  Halfwen stood tall and blond and beautiful beside his bed. She wore a dress that had been in style in the 1300s or earlier, a plain sheath that clung in all the right places, but was short enough at the ankles to give her room to move. When I'd met her she'd been in armor, a guard in my cousin Cel's service. He'd forced her to kill things for him and forbade her to use her amazing healing gifts because she refused his bed. True healers were rare among the sidhe now, and even the queen had been shocked at the waste of Halfwen's talents. She'd been one of the female guards who had left Cel's service to join me in exile. Queen Andais was also shocked, I think, at the number of female guards who chose exile over staying to serve Cel. I wasn't shocked. Cel had come out of his months of imprisonment crazier and more sadistic than when he'd gone in. He'd been put away for trying to kill me, among other things. His freedom had been the deciding factor of me going back into exile. The queen admitted in private that she could not guarantee my safety around her son.

  Halfwen and others had come west with tales of what Cel did to the first female guard he took to his bed. It was the stuff of serial killers. Except she was sidhe, and she would heal, she would survive. Survive to be his victim again, and again, and again.

  At last count I had a dozen female "volunteers." A dozen in a month's time. There would be more, because Cel was insane, and the women had a choice now. Andais hadn't understood how so many of them could prefer exile to Cel's attentions, but then the queen had always overestimated his charms and underestimated his repulsiveness. Don't let me mislead you. Prince Cel was as handsome as most of the Unseelie sidhe, but pretty is as pretty does, and what he did was ugly.

  I stood by Doyle's side, but he didn't know I was there. If I still had the wild magic of faerie at my command, I could have healed him in an instant. But the magic had spilled out into the autumn night and done wonders and miracles, and was still working them in faerie. However, we weren't in faerie. We were in Los Angeles in a building built of metal and man-made things. Some magics would not even work in such a place.

  "Halfwen," I said, "why have you not tried to heal him?"

  A doctor short enough that he had to look up at Halfwen but could look down at me said, "I cannot allow the use of magic on my patient."

  I looked at him, gave him the full-on stare with the triple irises. Some humans, if they've never had to meet our eyes, are bothered by it. It can be a help in negotiations, or persuading. "Why can you not," I read his nameplate, "Dr. Sang?"

  "Because it is magic that I do not understand, and if I do not understand a treatment I cannot authorize it."

  "So if you understood you'd stop interfering," I said.

  "I am not interfering, Princess Meredith, you are. This is a hospital, not a royal bedchamber. Your men are disrupting the operation of this hospital by their very
presence."

  I smiled at him, and felt my eyes stay cool and untouched by it. "My men have done nothing. It is your staff that is failing. I thought all the hospitals in the area had been briefed about what to do if one of us was brought in. Didn't they tell you what to wear, or carry, to help the staff function?"

  "The fact that your men are using active glamour to bespell our nurses and female doctors is an insult," Dr. Sang said.

  Galen spoke from the other side of the room. He was slumped down in one of two chairs. "I've told him over and over that we aren't doing anything. It isn't active glamour, but he won't believe me."

  He looked tired, a tightness around his eyes and mouth that I hadn't noticed before. The sidhe don't age, really, but there are signs of wear. The way a diamond can be cut by the right kind of blade.

  "I do not have time to explain to you, but I won't allow you to stand between my people and my healers," I said.

  "She admits," he motioned at Halfwen, "that her powers are not at full strength outside of faerie. She's not certain she can heal him. The more often his bandages are opened, especially with this many people here, the greater the chances that he'll get a secondary infection," Dr. Sang said.

  "The sidhe do not get infections, Doctor," I said.

  "Forgive me if I'm a little skeptical about that, Princess, but this man is my patient," Dr. Sang said. "I am responsible for him."

  "No, Doctor, he is mine. He is my Darkness, my right hand. He would see himself as responsible for me, but I am trying to be his queen, which makes me responsible for all my people." I reached out to touch his hair, but drew back. I did not want to wake him if all we could offer was pain. For the healing we would disturb him, but simply because I could not bear to be so close and not touch him was not reason enough to wake him from the sleep that the drugs and shock had given him.

  My hand ached to touch him, but I forced my hand into a fist at my side. Rhys's hand wrapped around my fist. I looked into his single triblue eye, his handsome face with the scars that had taken his other eye, only partially hidden by the white patch he'd worn today. I'd never known Rhys any other way. The face that rose above me when we made love, or looked up at me from the bed, was this face, scars and all. It was simply Rhys.