A Shiver of Light
Page 52

She looked at him, and there was something in her face I’d never seen before when she looked at Galen. She “saw” him, considered him in a way I don’t believe she ever had before. Andais had a very binary way of looking at most men. They were either barely considered, victims of the moment, or potential lovers. He’d been her victim before, as had we all, and he’d been barely considered for most of his life, but now I watched that third choice cross through her eyes.
“If the genetic tests do not come back with your genetics listed, then perhaps I’ll give you a night to prove just how Unseelie you are, Galen Greenknight.”
He tensed, visibly, his newfound boldness stumbling. My heart was back in my throat, and I was clutching Doyle’s hand a little. Mistral had actually moved a little apart from us, so that he was at Rhys’s back, as if he thought she might try some violence, and in a way he was right, because she didn’t have sex without violence. She was like the anti-vanilla, Auntie Vanilla, and once I thought of it, it was funny and I laughed.
I laughed and I couldn’t stop laughing. I laughed so hard it began to ache in places that even sex hadn’t bothered. I laughed until tears ran down my face, and I heard other laughter. Galen came to stand by my chair, taking my hand and joining me in helpless laughter, but we were the only ones. Everyone else stayed silent, and when I could wipe the tears away enough to look at the mirror I saw why: The queen was not amused.
She was on her feet with Eamon far enough behind her that she, or maybe he, was out of reach. Her tricolored eyes sparked like lightning behind gray clouds. The storm isn’t overhead, but it’s coming.
“I will not be laughed at, Meredith, not by anyone.” Her voice had crawled down into that low purr that should have meant sex but usually meant torment for someone.
I managed to say, “You are the least vanilla person I know, Auntie Andais; you are anti-vanilla, Auntie Vanilla, get it?”
Rhys gave a small snort as he tried not to laugh. Even Mistral made a small noise; only Doyle stayed impervious to my dangerous silliness.
“No,” she said coldly, “I do not ‘get it.’”
Guards spilled into the room, some sidhe and some Red Caps. They had begun to train together, working on battle strategies that played to their mixed strengths. The goblins had fought like shock troops for the Unseelie sidhe for centuries, but never shoulder to shoulder with them. Goblins had been used as cannon fodder, never truly as another warrior to fight beside. Now they spread out in front of us, sidhe and goblin, side by side. They stacked themselves around us in a move that was obviously practiced, making themselves a shield of flesh between their “queen” and her “kings.” I hated that they might have to sacrifice themselves for us, but that was what it meant to be bodyguards, especially royal guards. Once it had been Doyle and the rest who were the sacrifice for Andais, and the female guards in front of me scattered among the men had been expected to do the same for Prince Cel.
“I allowed you to flee to the Western Lands and my niece’s more tender care, but do not let it go to your heads, my guards. None of you are would-be kings. If I call you back to the court, you are oath-bound to answer and return to me.” I couldn’t see her through the bodies of our guards, but hearing the tone was enough to steal away the last bit of my laughter, even with happy tears still wet on my face.
Galen took my hand in his; he looked grim. Doyle, Mistral, and Rhys had all moved up around my chair, but they were still behind the wall of guards. In a real battle we might lead from the front, but in moments like this princes and kings did not stand in front of their bodyguards. I had spent months learning this lesson as I watched the men I loved risk themselves again and again to keep me and the unborn children safe. Now, they were having to learn the lesson. I looked at my three warriors standing so certain, so ready, and hidden from the threat. I knew that it would chafe on them more than it had on me, because a year ago they would have stood between the danger and Queen Andais; now they stood beside me.
A voice even lower than Doyle’s came from that tall wall of guards. “We are goblin; you cannot call us back to your side, Queen Andais, for that has never been our place.” It was Jonty, the leader of the Red Caps. He was smallish for his people, only a little over eight feet tall; some of the men in the line were closer to thirteen feet, like small giants, or average-sized ogres. Their skin color ranged through every shade of gray, yellow, and two golds that were almost brown. The sidhe warriors, so tall and commanding, looked small interspersed between them.
“You are Kurag the Goblin King’s problem, not mine, but the men and women you stand beside—they are mine.” Her voice went down another note to a purring, sexual depth, but it didn’t excite any of us who were sidhe, because we knew that it promised violence, not sex, at least for us. I’d begun to realize that violence was a kind of sex for my aunt. She was truly like one of those sexual predators who are wired so that images of violence hit the same centers of the brain that “normal” sex does for the rest of us.
I projected my voice to be heard. It would have been more impressive if I hadn’t been hiding behind my guards, but it would have to do, because Andais wasn’t the most stable person, and I wouldn’t risk myself betting that, one, she couldn’t do magic through the mirror, and two, she would remember that she valued my fertile womb, if nothing else.
“They are not yours, Aunt Andais, not anymore.”
“Do not let your fertility go to your head, Meredith. It may keep you and your lovers safe, but the rest are on loan, nothing more. Until you sit on my throne, the Unseelie sidhe are mine.”
“They are oathed to me now, Aunt Andais.”
“They cannot be oathed twice, niece. That would make them foresworn.”
“The Cranes, my father’s female guards, were never asked to make oath to Prince Cel; you just ordered them to guard him, so they were free to make oath where they will.”
“They were oathed to my son,” she said.
“No, they were not,” I said. I would have liked to see her face, but I trusted the guards to do their job and stared at their broad backs, Galen’s hand still in mine.
“Cel gave them a choice and they swore oath to him.”
“Who told you that?” This was from Cathbodua, who stood at the end of the line that shielded us.
“Cel and the captain of the Cranes, Siobhan.”
“They lied, then,” Cathbodua said.
“Why would they have lied about that?”
“His reasons were his own, always, Queen Andais, but I swear to you that no one standing here today ever took oath to Prince Cel.”
“I neglected much where my son was concerned, and I regret that.”
Cathbodua went to one knee. “I am honored to hear you say that, Queen Andais.”
One guard taking a knee was often a sign for all, but no one else knelt, and after a time Cathbodua got to her feet and joined her fellow guards again.
“I will grant that the female guards are free to be with you, Princess Meredith, but the men are mine.”
“They took oath to me, as well, Aunt Andais,” I said.
“Yes, remind me of our blood ties, Meredith, because you do grow tiresome so quickly.”
“As do these moments between us, for me, auntie.”