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 mirror 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."
"Worry about you?" Rhys asked.
"He fears Andais -- and even Cel, because Cel's crazy and Taranis isn't sure what he'll do once he's got the throne. Taranis was probably thinking he could control me. Now he'll begin to wonder."
"It is interesting that this invitation comes after we have spoken to Maeve Reed," Doyle said.
I nodded. "Yes, isn't it."
The three of them exchanged glances. Kitto just stayed wound around me, quieter now. "I do not think it would be wise for Meredith to attend this ball," Frost said.
"I agree," Doyle said.
"Unanimous," Rhys said.
I looked at them. "I don't intend to go. But why are you all looking so serious?"
Doyle sat down on the far side of me, forcing Kitto to scoot back a little. "Is Taranis as good a political thinker as you are?"
I frowned. "I don't know. Why?"
"Will he think you refused for the true reasons, or will he wonder if you refused because of something Maeve said to you?"
I still hadn't told them Maeve's secret, and they had not asked. They probably assumed that she had made me give my word not to tell them, which she hadn't. The reason I hadn't shared it was because it was the kind of knowledge that could get you killed. And now, suddenly, out of the blue, was the invitation to court. Shit.
I looked at Doyle and the others. Frost had moved over to lean against the dresser, arms crossed. Rhys was still on the bed. Kitto curled against me. I looked at each in turn.
"I wasn't going to tell you what Maeve told me, because it's dangerous information. I thought we'd just avoid the Seelie Court altogether, and it wouldn't matter. Taranis hasn't sent me an invitation to anything for years. But if we are going to have to deal with him, then you need to know."
I told them why Maeve had been exiled. Rhys just put his head in his hands and said nothing. Frost stared. Even Doyle was speechless. It was Kitto who said it. "Taranis has condemned his people."
"If he is truly infertile, then, yes, he has doomed them all to death as a people," Doyle said.
"Their magic dies because their king is sterile, dead soil," Frost said.
"It is what I believe Andais fears for the Unseelie. But she has borne one child, and Taranis has always been childless."
"So that's why she's so interested in Cel or me breeding," I said.
Doyle nodded. "I believe so, though she has kept her own counsel on her exact motives in pitting you and Cel against each other."
"Taranis will kill us all." Rhys's voice was quiet, but very certain.
We all looked at him. It was beginning to feel like a very confused tennis match, looking from person to person.
He raised his face from his hands. "He has to kill everyone who knows he's sterile. If the other Seelie find out that he's condemned them, they will demand he make the great sacrifice and his blood will be spread to recover their fertility."
Looking into Rhys's bleak face, it was hard to argue, especially since I'd thought the same thing.
"Then why is Maeve Reed alive and well?" Frost asked. "Julian has told us there have been no attempts on her life, none whatsoever."
"I can't explain it," Rhys said. "Maybe it's because she has no way to tell anyone else in faerie. We've met with her, but she can't talk to anyone else who isn't already in exile. Meredith is not in exile, and she can talk to people who would matter. People who would believe her and act on it."
We all sort of sat there, thinking. Doyle broke the silence. "Frost, call Julian and tell him that there may be trouble."
"I cannot tell him why," Frost said.
"No," Doyle said.
Frost nodded and went out into the other room to call on the phone.
I looked at Doyle. "Have you talked to anyone else about this?"
"Only Barinthus," he said.
"The bowl of water on the altar," I said.
Doyle nodded. "He was once the ruler of all the seas around our islands, so contacting him by water is nearly undetectable."
I nodded. "My father used to talk to Barinthus that way. How is he doing?"
"As your strongest ally among the Unseelie, he's making some progress in forming alliances for you."
I stared into Doyle's dark eyes. "What did you just leave out?"
He closed his eyes, looked down. "Once you could not have seen that in my face."
"I've been practicing. What did you leave out?"
"There have been two assassination attempts on him."
"Lord and Lady protect us, how serious?"
"Serious enough that he mentioned them, not so serious that he was truly threatened. Barinthus is one of the oldest of us all. He is a thing of the element of water. Water is not easy to kill."
"As you said, Barinthus is my strongest ally. If they kill him, then the rest will fall away."
"I would fear that, yes, Princess, but many fear what Cel will be like when he is released from his torment. They fear he will be completely mad, and they do not wish someone like that on the throne. Barinthus believes that is why Cel's followers are passing around the fear that you will contaminate them all with mortality."
"They sound desperate," I said.
"No, the desperate part is the talk about declaring war on the Seelie Court. What I did not tell Kurag is that there is talk of war no matter which of you takes the throne. They see Cel's madness, your mortality, the queen's weakness as signs that the Unseelie are slipping away, that we are fading as people. There are some who talk of going to war one last time while we still stand a chance of defeating the Seelie."
"If we have a full-scale war on American soil, the human military will be called in. It would break part of the treaty that allowed us into this country in the first place," Rhys said.
"I know," Doyle said.
"And they think Cel is mad," Rhys said.
"Did Barinthus say who's the main voice behind the idea of war with Seelie?"
"Siobhan."
"The head of Cel's guard."
"There is only one Siobhan," Doyle said.
"Thank the Lord and Lady for that," Rhys said.
Siobhan was the equivalent of Doyle. She was leprously pale with spiderweb hair and not very tall. Physically she was nothing like Doyle. But just as whenever the queen had said, "Where is my Darkness, send me my Darkness," and someone had bled or died, so Cel with Siobhan. But she had no nickname; she was simply Siobhan.
"I hate to be picky," I said, "but did she receive any punishment for following Cel's orders and trying to assassinate me?"
"Yes," Doyle said, "but it has been months, Meredith, and the punishment is over."
"How long was the punishment?" I asked.
"A month."
I shook my head. "A month, for nearly killing a royal heir. What kind of message does that send to everyone else who wants me dead?"
"Cel gave the order, Meredith, and he is experiencing one of our worst punishments for half a year. No one expects his mind to survive. They see that as the punishment."
"And have you ever been in Ezekiel's tender care for an entire month?" Rhys asked.
Ezekiel was the court torturer, and had been for many mortal lifetimes. But he was mortal. The queen had found him plying his trade for a human city and so admired his handiwork that she'd offered him a job.
"I've never been in the Hallway of Mortality for a month, no, but I spent my share of time there. Ezekiel always said he had to be so careful of me. He'd spent so many centuries with the immortals that he was afraid he'd kill me by accident. 'I 'ave to be so careful of ya, Princess, so delicate, so fragile, so human.' "
Rhys shivered. "You imitate his voice well."
"He liked to talk while he worked."
"I apologize, Merry, you've done your time, but that means you understand what it meant for Siobhan to be in his care for a month's time."
"I understand, Rhys, but I'd have felt better if she'd been executed."
"The queen is loath to lose any noble-born sidhe," Doyle said.
"I know, there aren't enough to spare." But I wasn't happy about it. If you tried to kill a royal heir, the punishment should have been death. Anything less and someone might try again. Come to that, Siobhan might try again.
"Why does she want war?" I asked.
"She likes death," Rhys said.
I looked at him.
"I wasn't the only one who used to be a death deity, and I'm not the only one who lost a great deal of their weirding when the Nameless was cast. Siobhan was not always her name either."
That reminded me. "Tell Doyle what you discovered at the murder scene today."
He told Doyle about the elder gods and their ghosts. Doyle looked less and less happy. "I did not see Esras do this, but I know the queen gave the command for it. One of the agreements between us and the Seelie was that some spells were never to be performed again. That was one of them."
"Theoretically, if we could prove that a sidhe from either court did the spell, would that negate the peace treaty between us?"
Doyle seemed to think on that. "I don't know. In the actual agreement, yes, but neither side wishes all-out war."
"Siobhan does," I said, "and she wants me dead. Could she have done it?"
They both paused to think for a few silent minutes. Kitto just lay quietly beside me.
"She wants war, so she would have no qualms about doing it," Doyle said eventually. "But whether she is such a power, I do not know." He looked at Rhys.
Rhys sighed. "Once she was. Hell, so was I, once. She might have been able to do it, but that would mean she was here in California. You don't send them out of sight and expect to be able to control them. Out of sight of their magical keeper, they'll just wander around slaughtering people. They won't hunt Merry, not specifically."
"Are you sure of that?" Doyle asked.
"Yes, of that much I am sure."
"Wouldn't Barinthus have mentioned if Siobhan was missing from court?" I asked.
"He specifically said she's being a pain in his ... ass."
"So she's there," I said.
"But that doesn't mean that she didn't leave for a time."
"But it still wouldn't get Merry killed," Rhys said.
"Good to know," I said, then I added, "But what if my death is only a sideline? What if the real purpose behind it all is war between the courts?"
"Then why not have the elder ones doing their horror in Illinois near the courts?" Doyle asked.
"Because whoever did it wants war, not an execution for themselves," I said.
Doyle nodded. "That is true. If the queen discovered anyone had performed one of the forbidden spells, she would execute them in hopes that Taranis would be appeased."
"And he would be," Rhys said, "because neither ruler wants all-out war."
"So in order to get their little war started, they have to get away with it," I said. "Think about it; if it's proven to the courts that it's sidhe magic at work, but can't be proven which side did it, then suspicion mounts on both sides."
"And the Nameless," Doyle said, "only a sidhe could have freed it. Only a sidhe could have hidden it from both courts."
"Siobhan isn't capable of freeing the Nameless," Rhys said. "That I am sure of."
"Wait," I said, "didn't the queen say that Taranis is refusing to help search for it? Refuses to admit that anything so terrible could be part of his court?"
Doyle nodded. "Yes, she did."
"What if it's somebody from the Seelie Court?" I said. "Would we have more trouble tracking it?"
"Perhaps."
"Are you saying that the traitor is Seelie?" Rhys asked.
"Maybe, or maybe we've got two traitors. Siobhan could have raised the elder gods, and someone from the other court could have freed the Nameless."
"Why free the Nameless?" Rhys asked.
"If you could control it," Doyle said, almost as if he was talking to himself, "it would give someone access to all the most elder and frightening powers of faerie. If you could control it, you might become unstoppable."
"Someone's preparing for war," I said.
Doyle took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I must inform the queen about the elder ghosts. I will share some of our speculation about the Nameless, as well." He looked at me. "And until we are certain that the elder gods cannot be directed at you, you will stay inside the wards."
"Can the wards hold them off?"
He frowned and looked at Rhys, who shrugged. "I saw them let loose in open battle. I know that wards can keep out anything that means harm, but I don't know how powerful these things will become. Especially if they are allowed to feed. They may grow to be able to breach nearly any ward."
"Thanks, that was comforting," I said.
He turned a serious face to me. "It wasn't meant to be comforting, Merry. Just honest." He gave a wistful smile. "Besides, we'll all give our lives to keep you safe, and we're pretty hard to kill."
"You don't think you'll win," I said. "How do you fight something that's invisible, and untouchable, but can see you and touch you? Something that can drink the life out of your mouth, like we'd empty a soda bottle. How do you fight that?"
"For that, I will speak to the queen." Doyle stood up and went for the bathroom, with its smaller mirror. Apparently, he wanted privacy.
He stopped at the door. "Call Jeremy and tell him we won't be back today. Until we know if this is a direct threat to Merry, we guard her and her alone."
"And what do we do for money?" I asked.
He sighed, rubbing his eyes as if he was tired. "I admire your determination to owe no one. I even agree with it. But things would be simpler if we took a stipend from the court and had only court politics to worry about. There will come a time, Meredith, when we cannot work a nine-to-five job and survive the politics."
"I don't want to take her money, Doyle."
"I know, I know. Call Jeremy, explain that you will be sitting with Kitto. When you tell him that Kitto's fading and you've saved him, Jeremy will understand."
"You don't want him to know about the elder ghosts?"
"This is sidhe business, Meredith, and he is not sidhe."
"Sure, but if the sidhe go to war, then so do all the fey. My great-grandmother was a brownie. All she wanted to do was stay near her human's home and tend it, but she got killed in one of the last great wars. If they're going to be dragged into it, then shouldn't they know about it beforehand?"
"Jeremy is exiled from faerie, so he will not be involved."
"You're ignoring my point," I said.
"No, Meredith, I am not, but I don't know what to say to your point. Until I can think of what to say, I will say nothing." With that he went around the corner. I heard the bathroom door open, then close.
Rhys patted my arm. "Gutsy of you to suggest that fey other than sidhe should have a vote. Very democratic."
"Don't patronize me, Rhys."
He dropped his hand. "I even agree with you, Meredith, but our vote doesn't count for much. Once you're on the throne, maybe that will change; but right now, there is no way in all the kingdoms of faerie that a sidhe ruler will agree to include the lesser fey in our war talks. They'll be notified when we decide to go to war, not before."
"That's not fair," I said.
"No, but it's the way we do things."
"Get me on a throne and maybe that can change."
"Oh, Merry, don't let us risk our lives to make you queen, only to have you turn around and piss off all the sidhe. We can fight off some of them, but not all of them."
"There are a lot more lesser fey than sidhe, Rhys."
"Numbers aren't what counts, Merry."
"What does count?"
"Strength: strength of arms, strength of magic, strength of leadership. The sidhe have all that, and that is why, my pretty princess, we have ruled the fey for millennia."
"He's right," Kitto said softly.
I looked down at him, still pale, but not that frightening translucent uncolor. "The goblins are great warriors."
"Yes, but not great wizards. And Kurag fears the sidhe. Everyone who is not sidhe fears the sidhe," Kitto said.
"I'm not sure that's true," I said.
"I am," he said, and he crept even closer, spooning his entire body around me, holding himself as tight against me as he could. "I am."
