Eamon hugged her, laying his cheek gently against her hair. "Would you rather they fight and demand every title we could paint upon them, my queen?"
She ignored his question and spoke, in a voice that seemed as diminished as the rest of her. "Why have you not come to kill me, Meredith?"
I fought to keep my face neutral, and watched Eamon look startled, and the first unease cross his face. What was worse, then his face went back to that handsome, unreadable mask that had allowed him to live and thrive in Andais's bed for so long. Perhaps that last comment had been over the line even for him, chastising his queen in front of others.
I found my voice and said, "I was pregnant with my father's, your brother's, grandchildren and would not risk them for vengeance."
She nodded and put her arm around Eamon's waist, to be held closer. "I went mad after you killed my son and turned down the crown of my court to save your lover, Meredith. Did you realize that?"
"I was aware that you seemed ... unwell," I said.
She gave that horrible laugh again, and her eyes were fever bright. "Unwell; yes, I have been unwell."
Eamon held her closer, but his face remained unreadable. Whatever happened here, if she went back to being her usual sadistic self, he would survive. Eamon was not our enemy, but he could not afford to be our friend either.
"Meredith, Meredith, the look on your body, your tight control. Do you not understand that after centuries even the fight for control shows to my eyes?"
"I do know that, Aunt Andais, but control is all I can offer."
"Control is all any of us can offer in the end, and I lost mine," she said.
"You seem better now," I said.
She nodded. "It took me months to realize I was trying to force you to send my Darkness to me. I knew if anyone could slay me, it would be him, but day after long day he did not come. Why did you not send him to me, Meredith?"
We had actually discussed sending Doyle to assassinate her, but I had vetoed it. "Because I didn't want to lose my Darkness," I said.
"Your Darkness, yes, I suppose now he is 'your Darkness.'" Anger showed on her face.
I didn't like the "suppose" in that sentence. "Doyle is one of the fathers of my children, which makes us a committed coupling now."
She sat up a little straighter in the curve of Eamon's arm. "Yes, yes, he is yours as a consort, Meredith. I mean nothing by it, beyond the fact that I thought he would be sent to end my pain, but he did not come, and gradually the madness and grief left me. Eamon risked much to bring me back to myself. I tortured Tyler to death one night. I valued him, and I have missed him since, and that helped me realize how far I had fallen."
Tyler had been a barely legal teenage lover. He'd been a human brought into the Unseelie sithen to be her slave, in the bondage-and-submission sense, not in a bought-and-sold sense. Tyler had been good looking in a vapid sort of way; he had been entirely too much pet and not enough person for my tastes, but he had pleased Andais, met a need that was real for her. Apparently he had been more important to her than even she knew.
"I am sorry for your loss, Aunt Andais."
"You sound as if you mean that."
"I would not have wished death by torture on anyone. I had no quarrel with your slave, Tyler. I simply did not understand him or his interactions with you enough to comment."
"Such careful wording, my niece; you never liked Tyler."
"He disturbed me, because you wanted him to disturb me. I know it was part of your games to control me, or amuse yourself, but I was never afraid of Tyler, and he never harmed me. If I hadn't found some value in him I wouldn't have helped your guards and Eamon protect Tyler the night that you almost whipped him to death."
There had been a night in the private chambers of the queen when she had chained Tyler to the wall of her bedroom, and it had gone from a pain-filled game to a near-death experience for him. Eamon had shielded the human with his own body, trying to bring Andais back to sanity in time to save Tyler and keep her from stripping the flesh even from Eamon's bones.
The other guards had been forced to kneel and watch the torture, but what had begun as forcing her celibate guards to watch her have sex with her pet had turned into true life and death. I had watched Rhys, Doyle, Frost, Galen, Mistral, and so many others bloodied and dreadfully injured trying to come to Eamon's aid. In the end I had stepped forward and hoped only to give them time to gather themselves, to think of a way to stop her, but the Goddess had blessed me, and the queen had been stopped by the blessing of the Goddess through me. It was not my power that had done it; I never had illusion otherwise. The best I could claim was that my faith and courage had been rewarded. That night Aunt Andais had been poisoned deliberately to drive her into her full bloodlust in hopes that she would be painted so mad that her nobles would see that Prince Cel, her son, should come to the throne sooner, but I had interfered, and the plan had backfired.
"But you were not there this time, Meredith. You were not in the court that the Goddess and Consort gave to you and Doyle. If you had been, Tyler might still live."
Was she truly going to make this my fault? It was like her self of old; she took little blame for herself and had seen even less attached to Cel, her late son.
Eamon didn't try to soothe her this time, but sat with his arm almost stiffly around her, as if he wasn't sure whether she still welcomed it.
"Would you not have given up your crown to have the man you loved by your side again?" I asked. I wasn't sure it was the right thing to ask, but it was all I could think of to say.
I smelled roses, and knew the Goddess was with me. She either approved of what I'd said or would aid me if the queen did not. Something brushed my cheek and I looked up to find pink and white rose petals falling from empty air. The petals began to collect in my lap like floral snow.
Andais made a sound between a scream and an inarticulate curse. "Pink and white petals, not red, not the colors of our court, but of that golden throng that thinks themselves so superior to us, why, Meredith, why the Goddess of the Seelie and not the Dark Mother?"
"The Goddess is all women, all things, or that is what She has shown to me." I kept my voice calm, but surrounded by the scent of roses in the summer heat of a meadow, in the midst of the soft-petaled rain of roses, I couldn't be upset. Her blessing was too close to me, and it felt warm, safe, like home is meant to be, but so seldom is.
Andais sat up, moving out from the curve of Eamon's arm. "The gardens that have returned to our sithen are full of bright and happy colors. Your Seelie heritage has contaminated our kingdom. You would reshape us in the form of that other world of lies and illusions. You've seen what Taranis considers truth, Meredith. How can you wish our court to become a fairy-tale land that is not real?"
"I did not wish these changes on your court, Aunt Andais. The Goddess returned and with Her the wild magic, and it goes where it will, changing things as it goes. No one of flesh and blood can control the wild magic of faerie itself."
"Would you have returned us to our former dark glory if you could have chosen, Meredith?"
The fall of petals began to slow, but my lap was full of them already. "I do not know, and that is the truth. I had no affection for the court of my uncle; if I had a home in faerie it was the Unseelie Court, and as you remind me, my uncle has made me dread his court even more. So no, aunt, I would not make the Unseelie Court over into that glittering place of lies."
My pulse had sped, not from Andais being so close, but from the thought of Taranis. I mercifully didn't remember most of the attack, but I remembered enough.
Frost and Doyle both laid a hand on my shoulders at the same time. Sholto and Mistral each laid a hand on mine, and I took their hands. Galen went to one knee beside me, his leg almost brushing Kitto, who had remained motionless and still as the footstool he pretended to be, so still that I had almost forgotten him. He had the gift of being that still even when standing beside me. Galen laid his hands on my knee through the layer of p
etals. He gazed up at me, giving most of his back to the mirror. It was both an insult and a sign that he didn't see her as a threat, or it would have been if one of the other men had done it, but it was Galen and I doubt he thought beyond comforting me. Rhys had taken a half-step forward, so that his hands were free if she was as rash as Taranis had been when he got angry over a mirror call. Galen seemed oblivious to the danger. He had not changed completely. I was both relieved and afraid of what I would find when I raised my eyes from his sweet face to look at my aunt.
I expected anger, disdain, but what I saw was pain, and the closest I'd ever seen to sympathy except when my father died. "It was not my intent to remind you of what he did to you, niece. Our lawyers have told me of what the Seelie king is trying to do, and for that I am sorry, Meredith. I believe Taranis is madder in his own way than I am, or was. At least I come to my senses. He lives in his delusions."
"I appreciate your sentiments, Aunt Andais, more than I can say."
"I made a bargain with you, Meredith, that if you produced a child I would step down for you. Now you have produced three. It is beyond my wildest hopes. I also know that there are two babes from other couplings in your exiled court; again it is more than I hoped for. Come home, Meredith, and the throne is yours, for I gave my word and I cannot go back upon it."
Galen's hand tensed against my knee; the rest of the men went very still where they touched me. Rhys stayed in his forward position. I felt the guards at our backs shift as if a wind had touched them. Turning down Andais never went well.
I fought to keep my voice even. "I do not believe that I would live long upon your throne, Aunt Andais. There are still too many among our court who see my mortal blood as the doom of them all."
"They would not dare harm you for fear of me, just as they have not harmed me during my madness for fear of worse from me, Meredith."
There was a certain logic to what she was saying, but in the end I believed I was correct. "To rule either court, the nobles must take oath to the new ruler, and bind themselves to her or him. At our court it is a blood oath, and I proved on the dueling grounds that to share my blood made my opponents mortal."
"That was unexpected when you killed Arzhul."
"He certainly did not expect the blood oath to make him killable by bullet, or he would never have allowed me a gun against his sword."
She smiled, and looked satisfied. "You were always ruthless, Meredith; why did I not see your worth sooner?"
"You hated my mixed blood as much as any in court, Aunt Andais."
"You're not going to bring back up the time I tried to drown you when you were six, are you? It's very tiresome to be reminded of it, and I would take it back if I could."
"I appreciate that you would take it back, but your belief that I am not worthy to be an Unseelie noble, let alone rule there, is shared by many at the court. They fear taking oath to me, Aunt Andais, for fear that my mortality will cancel out their immortality permanently. Since I cannot promise them it will not happen just as they fear, I think they will choose my death over theirs, or worse, my death over slowly aging like a human."
"For fertile wombs, Meredith, you might be surprised how many would accept you."
"I think that not all the sidhe at your court are as wedded to having children as you are, aunt."
"Perhaps, but have I proved myself calm enough to be allowed a glimpse of my great-nieces and nephew?"
I fought the urge to look at Doyle for reassurance. Rhys glanced back at me and gave me the look I needed. He thought she had been good enough to see the babies, or at least hadn't done anything bad enough to not have earned a glimpse of them. I gave a small nod and then said, "Yes, we will have the babies brought into the room so you may see them tonight, Aunt Andais."
I worded that last carefully, because if I had said, You may see the babies, she could interpret it as being allowed to come visit in person, and that she hadn't earned yet.
I gave the order for the babies to be brought into the room. One of the guards went to fetch our nurses and our children to be paraded before their great-aunt, who had nearly killed me when I was little because she thought me not pure-blooded enough, like a mongrel puppy that your prize-winning bitch had dropped. You didn't keep the mistakes, and Andais had seen me as that, or worse. My father had found us, rescued me, fought with his sister, and taken me and all his courtiers with him into the human world. He had chosen exile to keep me safe. I didn't understand what it had cost him until I spent my own three years alone and exiled, hiding here in Los Angeles. My father had loved me dearly; my aunt ... didn't love me at all. How could I ever trust her around our babies? The answer was obvious: I couldn't.
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
BRYLUEN FIT IN my arms as if she had been made to tuck into the curve of my elbow. I lowered my face over that tiny face; the dark ginger of her eyelashes lay on her alabaster skin like decoration, almost too perfect to be real. I'm told all mothers think their babies are beautiful; how do you know if you're seeing the truth, or it's some illusion made of love and baby hormones? There are types of glamour that have nothing to do with faerie and everything to do with love.
Galen had taken Gwenwyfar in his arms, and then sat back down by my legs, careful not to bump my "footstool" so that Kitto wouldn't move and ruin his safe pass before the queen. Sholto held Alastair, but stayed standing beside my chair. He rocked the baby automatically when Alastair started to fuss. Once he believed that Bryluen was his, he had joined in caring for all the babies, as if, one being his, they were all his.
"You forget how very tiny they are," Andais said, and her voice was softer, gentler than any time I'd ever heard her.
I looked up and realized that I'd forgotten she was there; for just a moment there had been nothing but the baby in my arms and my feeling of utter contentment. I'd discovered that sometimes being around the triplets was like being drugged with something slow and pleasant, but I hadn't expected the effect to continue with my aunt still on the "phone."
"I remember that look from when Cel was little. He always had that effect on me to a certain extent. Looking at you now, I wonder if it was more than just motherly affection."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Your eyes are unfocused; you look almost drugged."
"Bryluen did have a very strong effect on a human friend of ours, so much so that we've decided no human nannies or babysitters for her," I said.
"Perhaps my great-niece's glamour affects more than just humans, Meredith. You would not knowingly let yourself become this distracted in front of me."
"No, Aunt Andais, I would not."
She had a thoughtful look on her face, and laid a hand on Eamon's thigh where it was hidden under his own silk robe. "Do I dare attribute some of my worst mistakes to magic? Was my own son able to throw glamour over my eyes as ... Bryluen just did to you?"
"I do not know, Aunt Andais, I cannot speak to it."
"Nor I with any certainty," she said, but she kept touching Eamon, stroking his thigh not in a sexual way, but more for comfort. I knew that touch helped keep our minds free of glamour from the King of Light and Illusion, Taranis, and I wondered if she was touching Eamon for comfort, or because there was glamour coming through the mirror from Bryluen and me.
Doyle put his hand back on my shoulder, and I could think even more clearly. It was a sharpening of focus that let me know I hadn't been at my best just seconds before, and the fact that I hadn't realized that was not good. We would have serious negotiations today and later with other relatives, allies, and enemies. I couldn't be besotted with baby glamour while dealing with all of it. How powerful was Bryluen's effect on the people around her?
"For the idea that my mother's blindness to my son's machinations was magic, I thank you, Meredith, and Bryluen. It's Cornish for 'rose,' a sweet name for a little girl."
"It was a compromise between the men," I said.
She looked past me to one of the men at my back and
said, "So, Killing Frost, you wished to name your new daughter after the love you lost centuries ago, Rose?"
I felt him tense without need of touching him, so his startle reflex must have shown over the mirror to her. Rose had been the name of the woman and her daughter he had loved centuries ago when he was merely Jackul Frosti, Little Jackie Frost. It was love for them, desire to protect them that had made Frost grow from a minor player in the procession of winter into the tall, commanding warrior, because little Jack Frost couldn't protect his Roses. The Killing Frost could, but in the end, time had taken them away from him. They'd been human and mortal and died as all mortal flesh is doomed to do.
Andais laughed, a high, delighted, wicked peal of laughter. Perhaps it was actually a pleasant laugh, but we'd all heard it so many times when she was enjoying cruelty that it could be nothing but unpleasant to our ears.
Doyle reached across with his free hand to touch Frost and steady him. His reaction must have been even worse than I'd thought for Doyle to show such weakness before the queen. It wasn't always wise to show how much you truly cared about anyone in front of her.
"So the rumors are true, my Darkness and my Killing Frost are lovers," she said.
I actually glanced behind me then, to see what was prompting her to say that, and found the men holding hands behind my chair.
Rhys said, "Once a man could hold the hand of his best friend and not be thought his lover."
She looked at Rhys, eyes narrowing; it was a look that typically began something bad, a bad mood, a bad event, an order we would not want to follow.
"Are you saying that they are not lovers?" Andais said.
"I am saying, why does it matter, and you shouldn't believe every rumor the human tabloids put out."
Galen was still sitting at my feet, beside Kitto, who had stayed almost immobile. Galen was holding Gwenwyfar, so as he leaned back against my legs he had to brush against Kitto's curls. The baby's hand brushed the long hair, and though she was too young to do it, Gwenwyfar grabbed a tiny fistful of Kitto's curls.
It couldn't have hurt, because the baby didn't have the strength for it yet, but it was probably the one thing that Kitto would have reacted to. He raised his face enough to gaze up at Gwenwyfar. I couldn't see Kitto's expression, but it was almost certainly a smile.