Merry Gentry #05 - Mistral's Kiss Laurell K Hamilton

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I smiled at him. ï¿½About my breasts, you were right.ï¿½ That earned me a smile in return, which, given that awful wound, made me breathe more easily. ï¿½But I am too short, too human looking for most of the sidhe, male or female, to let me forget it.ï¿½

ï¿½I told you then: They were fools,ï¿½ Sholto said. He took my hand in his and raised it up for a kiss, but when he tried to bend over me, the pain stopped him in midmotion. I pressed his hand to my cheek.ï¿½Sholto, oh, Sholto.ï¿½

ï¿½I had hoped to hear tenderness in your voice, but not for this reason. Donï¿½t pity me, Meredith, I could not bear it.ï¿½

I didnï¿½t know how to respond. I just held his hand against my face, and tried to think of anything I could say that wouldnï¿½t make him feel worse. How could I not feel pity?

ï¿½When did this happen, King Sholto?ï¿½ Doyle asked.

Sholto looked past me to the other man. ï¿½Two days ago, just before your second press conference.ï¿½

ï¿½The one during which two murders were committed,ï¿½ Rhys said. Sholto looked at him. ï¿½You caught your murderer, though the human police donï¿½t know it yet. I hear youï¿½re trying to let him heal from the torture before showing him to the human police.ï¿½

ï¿½Our queen made a mess of him,ï¿½ Rhys said.

ï¿½He is guilty?ï¿½ Sholto made it a question.

ï¿½We believe so,ï¿½ Doyle said.

ï¿½But you are not certain?ï¿½

ï¿½What was done to your stomach, Queen Andais did to every inch of Lord Gwennin.ï¿½

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Sholto winced, and nodded. ï¿½One would do much to stop such pain.ï¿½

ï¿½Even confess to something you did not do,ï¿½ Doyle said.

I looked at Doyle then. ï¿½Do you think Gwennin is innocent?ï¿½

ï¿½No. Nor do I believe he acted completely alone. Andais was using his own intestines as a leash on him, Meredith. He would have been a fool not to confess.ï¿½

Sholto pressed my hand to his face. Segna tried to interfere but Agnes stopped her, and the other two guards moved between Sholto and the hags. I caught a glimpse of one of the guardï¿½s faces. Oblong eyes full of nothing but color, thin lipless mouth, and a face that was a strange mix of humanoid and nightflyer. They were like Sholto, but no one would have ever have mistaken them for sidhe. The eyes, thoughï¿½the eyes were goblin eyes. The guard stared at me with his face that looked only halfformed, the nostrils mere slits. I did not look away. I stared, memorized his face, for I had never seen another quite like it. ï¿½You do not find me ugly.ï¿½ The guardï¿½s voice held that edge of twitteringï¿½almost bird-like, but deeper.

ï¿½No,ï¿½ I said.

ï¿½Do you know what I am?ï¿½

ï¿½The eyes are goblin blood, but the face is nightflyer. Iï¿½m not sure about the rest,ï¿½ I said. ï¿½I am half-goblin and half-nightflyer.ï¿½

ï¿½Ivar and Fyfe are my uncles on my fatherï¿½s side,ï¿½ Sholto said. The second guard spoke for the first time. His voice was deeper, more ï¿½human.ï¿½ He gave me the full gaze of his face. His eyes were the same oblongs of color, a deep rich blue, but he had more nose,more lower jaw. If heï¿½d been taller, he might have passed for a goblin. But the skin wasnï¿½t quite the right texture. ï¿½I am Fyfe, brother to Ivar.ï¿½ He gave the hags an unfriendly look. ï¿½Our king felt the need of some male guards, who were not conflicted about what to do with his body. We guard it, and that is all.ï¿½

ï¿½This insult was not for lack of our ability to guard,ï¿½ Agnes said. ï¿½You, too, will be helpless when he chases his next bit of sidhe flesh. He wonï¿½t want an audience, and he will go with her alone.ï¿½

ï¿½Enough, Agnes.Enough, all of you.ï¿½Sholto pressed my hand tighter against his face. ï¿½Why didnï¿½t I tell you, Princess? How could I admit that Seelie did this to me? That I was not warrior enough to save myself? That I fell into their trap, because they offered me what you had promised? Agnes is right in one thing: I am near blinded by my desire to be with another sidhe, so blinded that I let a Seelie woman bind me. So blinded I believed her lie that she was fascinated with my bits, but afraid of them, too.ï¿½ He shook his head. ï¿½I am King of the Sluagh, and even bound I should have had enough magic to save myself from this.ï¿½ He let go of me, stepped back.

ï¿½The Seelie have magic that we do not,ï¿½ Frost said.

ï¿½The sluagh have magic that the Seelie have never possessed,ï¿½ I said. I touched Sholtoï¿½s arm. He flinched, but didnï¿½t pull away. I squeezed his arm, and wanted so badly to hold him, to try to chase this pain Page 69

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away. I rested my head against his bare arm. My throat closed up, and I was suddenly choking on tears. I began to weep, clutching at his arm. I couldnï¿½t stop.

He pulled me away from him enough to see my face. ï¿½You waste tears on meï¿½why?ï¿½

I had to struggle to speak. ï¿½You are beautiful, Sholto, you areï¿½donï¿½t let them make you think otherwise.ï¿½

ï¿½Beautiful now that heï¿½s butchered,ï¿½ Segna said, looming over us, pushing her way past the uncles. I shook my head. ï¿½You broke in on us inLos Angeles . You saw what I was doing with him. Why would I have been doing those things if he was less than beautiful to me?ï¿½

ï¿½All I remember from that night, white flesh, is that you killed my sister.ï¿½

I had, but by accident. That night, in fear for my life, I had lashed out with magic I hadnï¿½t known I had. It had been the first night that my hand of flesh had manifested. It was a terrible powerï¿½the ability to turn living beings inside out, but they did not die. They lived on, impossibly on, with their mouths lost inside a ball of flesh, and still they screamed. Iï¿½d had to cut her to bits with a magical weapon to finally end her agony. I donï¿½t know what shadows showed on my face, but Sholto reached for me. Reached for me, to hold me, to givecomfort, and it was too much for Segna. She shoved the other two guards away as if they were straw before a storm wind. She struck at me, shrieking her rage.

Suddenly there was movement behind me, and in front of me. All the guards moved at once, but Sholto was closest. He used his own body to shield me, so Segnaï¿½s razor claws sliced his own white skin. He took the brunt of the blow meant for me, and even what was left of that strike staggered me backward, numbing my arm from shoulder to elbow. It didnï¿½t hurt, because I couldnï¿½t feel it. Sholto pushed me into Doyleï¿½s arms, and pivoted in the same movement. The movement was so fast that it surprised Segna, made her stumble nearer the edge of the lake. Sholtoï¿½s good arm was a pale blur as he smashed into her. The blow sent her over the edge. She seemed to hang there in midair, her nearly naked body revealed by the wings of her cape. Then she fell.

ï¿½

CHAPTER 12

SHE LAY JUST ABOVE THE LOW WATER, IMPALED ON A SERIES OFspiked bones jutting out of her from throat to stomach.She hung there, caught, bleeding, like a fish caught on some terrible hook. I think Sholtoï¿½s guards expected her to simply draw herself off the spined ridge of the boned creature. Agnes, especially, seemed to be waiting, patient, unworried. ï¿½Come on, Segna, get up.ï¿½ Her voice was impatient.

Segna lay there and bled, her legs flailing, exposing her most intimate parts as she struggled. The hags wore a leather belt from which hung a sword and a pouch, but that, and their cloaks, were all. Her body was both larger than a humanï¿½s and more wizened, as if she were a shrunken giant. I saw the wide eyes, the fright on her face. She wasnï¿½t going to just get up. Sometimes, being mortal, I recognized real damage faster, because on a visceral level, I knew it was a possibility. Creatures who are Page 70

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immortal, or nearly so, donï¿½t understand the disasters that could befall them. ï¿½Ivar, Fyfe, go to her.ï¿½

ï¿½With due respect, King Sholto,ï¿½ Fyfe said, ï¿½I would stay here, and send Agnes down.ï¿½

Sholto started to argue, but Ivar joined the argument. ï¿½We do not dare leave Agnes up here with you alone. The princess will have guards, but you will be unprotected.ï¿½

ï¿½Agnes would not hurt me,ï¿½ Sholto said, but he was staring at Segna as if he were finally realizing just how bad it might be.

ï¿½We are your guards, and your uncles. We would be poor at both duties if we left you alone with Agnes now,ï¿½ Ivar said in his bird-like voice. People always expected the nightflyers to have hissing, ugly voices, but Ivar sounded like a songbirdï¿½or how a songbird might sound if it could speak as humans do. Most of the nightflyers sounded like that.

ï¿½Segna is a night-hag,ï¿½ Agnes said. ï¿½A mere bone will not bring her down.ï¿½

ï¿½I tripped on such a bone coming into your garden,ï¿½ Abe said, and raised his cloth-wrapped arm at her. Blood had soaked through much of the cloth.

ï¿½The bones hold old magic,ï¿½ Doyle said. ï¿½Some of them are things that hunted the sidhe and the other sluagh before they were tamed by your early kings.ï¿½

ï¿½Do not lecture me about my own people,ï¿½ Agnes said.

ï¿½I remember a time when Black Agnes was not a part of the sluagh,ï¿½ Rhys said, softly. She glared at him. ï¿½And I remember a time when you had other names, white knight.ï¿½ She spat in his direction. ï¿½We have both fallen far from what we once were.ï¿½

ï¿½Go with Ivar, Agnes. Go see to your sister,ï¿½ Sholto said. She glared at him. ï¿½Do you not trust me?ï¿½

ï¿½I once trusted the three of you more than any other, but you bloodied me before the Seelie got hold of me. You cut me up first.ï¿½

ï¿½Because you sought to betray us with some white-fleshed slut.ï¿½

ï¿½I am king here, or I am not, Agnes. You either obey me, or you do not. You will go down with Ivar to help Segna, or I will see it as a direct challenge to my authority.ï¿½

ï¿½You are gravely wounded, Sholto,ï¿½ said the hag. ï¿½You cannot win against me in this weakened state.ï¿½

ï¿½It is not about winning, Agnes. It is about being king. Either I am your king, or I am not. If I am your king, then you will do as I say.ï¿½

ï¿½Do not do this, Sholto,ï¿½ she whispered.

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ï¿½You raised me to be king, Agnes. You told me that if the sluagh do not respect my threat, then I will not be king for long.ï¿½

ï¿½I did not meanï¿½ï¿½

ï¿½Go with Ivar, now, or it ends between us.ï¿½

She reached out to him, as if to touch his hair.

He jerked back and yelled, ï¿½Now, Agnes, go now, or it will end badly between us.ï¿½

Fyfe threw back his cloak, revealing his weapons, and each of his hands touched a sword hilt, ready for a cross-draw.

Agnes gave Sholto one last look that was more despair than anger. Then she followed Ivar down the steep slope of the lake, using her claws to dig into the soil, so she wouldnï¿½t slide into the bones that spiked the earth.

Ivar was already wading through the still water. It came above his waist, which meant the water was deeper than it had looked. He had to strain to lay a hand over Segnaï¿½s heart between the hangingweight of her breasts. He turned that lipless, unfinished face to look at Sholto, and the look did not communicate good news. Agnes was taller than Ivar, and had an easier time in the waterï¿½it came only to her thighs. She waded to the other hag, and when she reached her let out a wail of despair. Sholto collapsed to his knees on the side of the lake. ï¿½Segna,ï¿½ he said, and there was real grief in his voice.

I knelt beside him, touched his arm. He jerked away. ï¿½Every time I am with you, someone I care about dies, Meredith.ï¿½

Ivar called up, ï¿½I am not certain she is dying.Gravely injured. She may yet live.ï¿½

Agnes was petting her sisterï¿½s face. But I could see the gaping mouth, the labored breathing. Blood bubbled from the chest wound when she breathed, poured down her mouth. It would have been death to most. ï¿½Can she survive it?ï¿½ I asked, softly.

ï¿½I do not know,ï¿½ Sholto said. ï¿½Once it would not have been a killing blow, but we have lost much of what we were.ï¿½

ï¿½Abeloecï¿½s wound from the bones is still bleeding,ï¿½ Doyle said. Sholtoï¿½s head drooped, hiding his face in a curtain of that white hair. I was close enough to hear him crying, though so softly that I doubted anyone else would hear it. I pretended not to notice, as was only respectful for a king.

Segna reached out to him. She spoke in a voice thick and bubbling with her own blood, ï¿½My lord,mercy

.ï¿½

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He raised his face, but kept his hair like a shield on either side, so only I, kneeling beside him, could see the tracks of tears on his face. His voice came clear and unemotional; you would never have known the pain in his eyes from that voice. ï¿½Do you ask for healing, or for death, Segna?ï¿½

ï¿½Healing,ï¿½ she managed to say.

He shook his head. ï¿½Get her off the bones.ï¿½ He looked at Fyfe. ï¿½Go help them.ï¿½

Fyfe hesitated for a moment then slid, carefully, down the slope to join his brother in the still, thick water. The three of them managed to slide Segna free of most of the bones. One of them seemed caught on Segnaï¿½s own ribs, and Agnes snapped that spine so that they could lower her into their arms. She was writhing in pain, and coughing blood.

Agnes raised a tearstained face. ï¿½We are not the people we once were, King Sholto. She dies.ï¿½

Segna reached a shaking hand out to him.ï¿½Mercy.ï¿½

ï¿½We cannot save you, Segna. I am sorry,ï¿½ said Sholto, for it now seemed clear that this was the case. ï¿½Mercy,ï¿½ she said again.

Agnes said, ï¿½There is more than one kind of mercy, Sholto. Would you leave her to a slow death?ï¿½ Her voice managed to be both tear-choked and hot with hatred. Such words should burn coming out. Sholto shook his head.

Ivarï¿½s high-pitched voice came. ï¿½It is your kill, Sholto.ï¿½

ï¿½Theirkillï¿½the kingï¿½s and the princessï¿½s,ï¿½ Agnes said, giving me a look of such venom that I fought not to flinch. If a look could still kill among us, I would have died from that look in her eyes. She spat into the water.

ï¿½She did not strike the blow, I did,ï¿½ Sholto said as he came to his feet. He actually stumbled, and I caught him, helped him stand. He didnï¿½t jerk away, which let me know he was badly hurt. I could see the bleeding wound that Segna had made, but I didnï¿½t think it was that wound that made me himstumble . Nor was it the amputation that weakened him now. There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.

ï¿½My apologies, Sholto, but the hag is right,ï¿½ Ivarï¿½s high voice said reluctantly, ï¿½Segna bled you both. If the princess was not a warrior, then she would be free of this, but she is a sidhe of theUnseelie Court , and all who claim that are warriors.ï¿½

ï¿½The princess has killed more than once in challenge,ï¿½ Fyfe said. ï¿½If she will not help finish Segna, then she will never be acknowledged as queen of the sluagh,ï¿½ Agnes said. She stroked Segnaï¿½s face, a surprisingly gentle gesture given her dagger-like talons. I heard Doyle sigh. He moved close enough to whisper to me, ï¿½If you do not help make this kill, Agnes will spread the rumor that you are not a warrior.ï¿½

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ï¿½And that would mean what?ï¿½ I whispered back.

ï¿½It could mean that when you sit on the throne of theUnseelie Court , the sluagh will not come to your call, for they are a warrior people. They will not be led by someone who is unbloodied in battle.ï¿½

ï¿½Iï¿½ve been bloodied,ï¿½ I said. The numbness was sliding away, and now the pain was sharp and tearing. The wound was bleeding freely. What I needed was to get medical attention, not to wade around in slimy water. ï¿½Iï¿½ll need a dose of antibiotics after this.ï¿½

ï¿½What?ï¿½ Doyle and Sholto both asked.

ï¿½Iï¿½m mortal. Unlike the rest of you, I can get an infection, blood poisoning. So after we crawl around in that water, Iï¿½ll need antibiotics.ï¿½

ï¿½You can truly catch all that?ï¿½ Sholto asked.

ï¿½Iï¿½ve had the flu, and my father made sure I had all my childhood immunizationsï¿½he wasnï¿½t sure how much I could withstand or heal.ï¿½

Sholto gazed at me, studying my face. ï¿½You are fragile.ï¿½

I nodded. ï¿½Yes, I am, by the standards of faerie.ï¿½ I looked up at Doyle. ï¿½You know, there are times when Iï¿½m not sure I want to be in charge here.ï¿½

ï¿½Do you mean that?ï¿½

ï¿½If there was a better alternative than my cousin, yes, I mean it. Iï¿½m tired, Doyle, tired. As much as I wanted to come back home to faerie, Iï¿½m beginning tomiss L.A. almost as much. To put some distance between me and all this killing.ï¿½

ï¿½I told you once, Meredith, that if I could bear to give the court to Cel, I would leave with you.ï¿½

ï¿½Darkness,ï¿½ Mistral said, ï¿½you cannot mean that.ï¿½

ï¿½You have not been outside faerie except for small trips. You have not seen that there are wonders outside our hills.ï¿½ He touched my face. ï¿½There are some wonders that will not fade when we leave here.ï¿½

He had told me that he would give up everything and follow me into exile.Frost and he, both. When they first thought that the queenï¿½s ring, a relic of power, had chosen Mistral as my king Doyle had broken down and said he could not bear it, to watch me with another. He had pulled himself together and remembered his duty, as Iï¿½d remembered mine. Would-be queens and kings did not run away and hide, and give their countries over to insane tyrants like my cousin Cel. He was crazier than his mother, Andais. I stared up into Doyleï¿½s face and I wanted him.Wanted to run away with him. Frost came up beside us. I gazed at my two men. I wanted to wrap them around me like a blanket. I did not want to climb down into that stinking hole and wade through razor-sharp bones and dirty water to kill someone I hadnï¿½t meant to even hurt.

ï¿½I donï¿½t want this kill.ï¿½

ï¿½It must be your choice,ï¿½ Doyle said softly.

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Rhys joined us. ï¿½If weï¿½re talking about running away toL.A. permanently, can I come, too?ï¿½

I smiled at him, touched his face. ï¿½Yes, you come, too.ï¿½

ï¿½Good, because once Celï¿½s on the throne, theUnseelie Court wonï¿½t be safe for anyone.ï¿½

I closed my eyes, rested my forehead against Doyleï¿½s bare chest for a minute. I pressed my cheek against him, held him tight, so I could listen to the slow, steady beat of his heart. Abeloec, who had been quiet, spoke next to my face: ï¿½You have drunk deep of the cup, of both cups, Meredith. Wherever you go, faerie will follow you.ï¿½

I looked at him, trying to hear all the double meanings in what heï¿½d said. ï¿½I donï¿½t want this kill.ï¿½

ï¿½You must choose,ï¿½ Abeloec said.

I clung to Doyle for a moment more,then tore myself away. I forced myself to stand straight, shoulders back, though the shoulder Segna had torn ached and stung. If my body didnï¿½t heal itself, Iï¿½d need stitches. If we could ever get back to theUnseelie Court , there were healers who could fix me up. But it was as if something, or someone, didnï¿½t want me getting back there. I didnï¿½t think it was political enemies, eitherï¿½I was beginning to feel the hand of deity pushing firmly in my back. Iï¿½d wanted the Goddess and the God to move among us againï¿½all of us had wanted that. But I was beginning to realize that when the gods move, you either get out of the way or get swept along for the ride. I wasnï¿½t sure getting out of the way was an option for me.

I caught the faintest scent of apple blossoms, a smallï¿½what?Warning, reassurance? The fact that I wasnï¿½t sure if it was a warning of danger or a spiritual embrace pretty much summed up my feelings about being the Goddessï¿½s instrument: Be careful what you wish for.

I looked at Sholto, with his wound seeping blood onto his bandages. He and I had both wanted to belong, truly belong, to the sidhe. To be honored and accepted among them. Look where it had gotten us. I held my hand out to him, and he took it. He took it, and squeezed it tight. Even in all this horror and death, I felt in that one touch how much it meant to him to touch me at all. Somehow, the fact that he still wanted me so much made it all the worse.

ï¿½I tried to share life with you, Meredith, but I am King of the Sluagh, and death is all I have to offer.ï¿½

I squeezed his hand. ï¿½We are both sidhe, Sholto, and that is a thing of life. We are Unseelie sidhe, and that is a thing of death, but Rhys reminded me what Iï¿½d forgotten.ï¿½

ï¿½What had you forgotten?ï¿½

ï¿½That the deities among us who brought death also once brought life. We are not meant to be split apart like this. We are not light and dark, evil and good; we are both and neither. We have all forgotten what we are.ï¿½

ï¿½What I am in this moment,ï¿½ said Sholto, ï¿½is a man who is about to slay a woman who was my lover, and my friend. I can think of nothing beyond this momentï¿½as if when she dies at my hand, I will die with her.ï¿½

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I shook my head. ï¿½You wonï¿½t die, but you may wish you could, for a moment.ï¿½

ï¿½Only for a moment?ï¿½ he asked.

ï¿½Life is a selfish thing,ï¿½ I said. ï¿½If you pass through the sorrow, outrun the horror, you will begin to want to live again. You will be glad you didnï¿½t die.ï¿½

He swallowed hard enough for me to hear it. ï¿½I donï¿½t want to pass through this.ï¿½

ï¿½Iï¿½ll help you.ï¿½

He almost smiled, and it was like a ghost flitting across his face. ï¿½I think youï¿½ve helped enough.ï¿½ With that he let go of my hand and eased himself over the edge, using his good hand to keep himself from sliding through the bones.

I didnï¿½t look back at anyone. I just eased myself over the edge and followed. Looking back wouldnï¿½t make me feel better. Looking back would simply make me want to ask for help. Some things you have to do yourself. Sometimes what it means to lead is simply that you canï¿½t ask for help. I found that the bones werenï¿½t sharp on every pointï¿½it was mostly the spines on the tops that were vicious. I grasped softer, rounder-looking bones, using them as handholds. It took all my concentration to get down to the water without losing my grip or cutting my hand.

The water was surprisingly warm, like bathwater. The soil underneath it was soft, and mushy, silt rather than mud. The footing was uncertain, and again I let myself sink into concentration on the task at hand. I focused on finding footing, avoiding anything that felt like a bone. I did not want to think about what I was about to do.

Segna had tried to kill me twice now, but I couldnï¿½t hate her. It would have been so much easier if I could have hated her.

ï¿½

CHAPTER 13

IF I HADNï¿½T BEEN AFRAID OF GETTING STABBED ON THE BONES,I would have swum out to where Sholto and Agnes stood holding Segna. The other two guards, Ivar and Fyfe, were still in the water, still close, but not holding the fallen woman. The water reached to my shoulders, stinging in the claw marks that Segna had made on me, and plenty deep enough to swim in, if it hadnï¿½t hidden those bones beneath its surface. My blood trailed into the black water, lost.

Sholto was cradling Segnaï¿½s head and upper body as well as he could with only one good arm. Agnes was still beside him, helping hold her sister hag above the water. I stumbled on the soft bottom and went under. I came up sputtering.

Agnesï¿½s voice came clear to me as she said to Sholto, ï¿½How can you want that weak thing? How can that be what you want?ï¿½

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Agnes yelled, ï¿½It is her kill or she will never be queen.ï¿½

ï¿½We do not come to kill for her,ï¿½ Doyle said.

Frost said, ï¿½We come to guard her, as your kingï¿½s guard protects him.ï¿½ His face was an arrogant mask. His pale, expensive suit soaked up the dirty water. His long silver hair trailed in the water. Somehow, he seemed more dirtied by the water than anyone else, as if it spoiled his white-and-silver beauty more grievously.

Doyleï¿½s blackness just seemed to melt into the water. The fact that his long braid trailed in the water didnï¿½t bother him. The only thing he worried about keeping clean was his gun. Modern guns shoot just fine wet, but heï¿½d begun using firearms when dry powder meant life or death, and old habits die hard. I waited for them to reach me, because I wanted the comfort of their presence while I did this. What I really wanted to do was fall into their arms and start screaming. I didnï¿½t want to kill anymoreï¿½I wanted life for my people. I wanted to bring life back to faerie, not death. Not death. I waited, and let their hands give me solace. Let them lift me above the soft, treacherous bottom and guide me through the water. I didnï¿½t collapse against them, but I let myself take courage from the strength of their hands.

A bone brushed my leg. ï¿½Bone,ï¿½ I said.

ï¿½A ridge of bone, by the feel of it,ï¿½ Doyle said.

ï¿½Are you hoping Segna dies before you get here?ï¿½ Agnesasked, voice derisive. The tears shining on her face made me discount the tone. She was losing someone she had lived with, fought beside, loved, for centuries. Sheï¿½d hated me before this; now sheï¿½d hate me even more. I did not want her as my enemy, but it seemed as if no matter what I did, I couldnï¿½t avoid it. ï¿½Iï¿½m trying not to share her fate,ï¿½ I said.

ï¿½I hope you do,ï¿½ Agnes said.

Sholto, tears plain on his face, looked at her. ï¿½If you ever raise a hand to Meredith again, I will be done with you.ï¿½

Agnes stared at him, searched his face, as she held Segnaï¿½s body. She stared into the face of the man she loved. Whatever she saw there made her bow her head. ï¿½I will do as my king bids.ï¿½ The words were bitter; it seemed to tighten my own throat just to hear them. They must have burned in Agnesï¿½s throat. ï¿½Swear it,ï¿½ Sholto said.

ï¿½What oath would you have of me?ï¿½ she asked, head still bowed. ï¿½The oath that Meredith gave, that will do.ï¿½

She shivered, and it wasnï¿½t from cold. ï¿½I swear by the darkness that eats all things that I will not harm the princess here and now.ï¿½

ï¿½No,ï¿½ Sholto said, ï¿½swear that you will never harm her.ï¿½

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She bowed lower, dry black hair trailing into the water. ï¿½I cannot make that oath, my king.ï¿½

ï¿½Why can you not?ï¿½

ï¿½Because I mean her harm.ï¿½

ï¿½You will not swear to never hurt her?ï¿½ He sounded surprised. ï¿½I will not; cannot.ï¿½

Ivar of the bird voice said, ï¿½May I suggest, Your Highness, that she swear the oath to not harm the princess now, so we can all move about freely. We can deal with her treachery later, once weï¿½ve dealt with the urgencies of the present moment.ï¿½

Sholto clutched Segna to him, and her yellowed hands with their broken claws grasped at him. ï¿½You are right,ï¿½ he said. He looked at Agnes, who was still bent over the water and Segnaï¿½s body. ï¿½Make what oath you will, Agnes.ï¿½

She straightened up, the water streaming from her hair. ï¿½I swear by the darkness that eats all things that I will not harm the princess in this moment.ï¿½

ï¿½May I suggest something, King Sholto?ï¿½ Doyle asked.

ï¿½Yes,ï¿½ Sholto answered, though his eyes were on the dying woman in his arms. ï¿½Black Agnes should add to her oath that she will not harm the princess while we are here in your garden.ï¿½

Sholto just nodded and whispered, ï¿½Do as he says, Agnes.ï¿½

ï¿½Do the sidhe guards give orders to our king now?ï¿½ she said. ï¿½Do it, Agnes!ï¿½ he screamed at her, and the scream ended in a sob. He folded his body over Segna and wept openly.

She glared at me, not Doyle, while she spoke, and each word seemed dragged out of her. ï¿½I swear by the darkness that eats all things that I will not harm the princess while we stand in the dead gardens.ï¿½

ï¿½I think that is as good as we get from her,ï¿½ Frost said, voice low. Doyle nodded.ï¿½Aye.ï¿½

They both looked at me, as if they knew this was a bad idea. I addressed their look aloud. ï¿½Thereï¿½s no way around this, only through it. We have to live through this moment to get to the next.ï¿½

Sholto raised his face enough to say, ï¿½Segna will not live through this moment.ï¿½

He hadnï¿½t been this upset inLos Angeles when Iï¿½d done something much more horrible to Nerys the Grey, his other hag. I didnï¿½t point this out, but I couldnï¿½t help noting it. They had both been his loversï¿½but then again, I knew better than most that you donï¿½t feel for your lovers all the same. Segna Page 78

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meant something to him, and Nerys had not.Simple, painful, true. I looked past the dying hag to Black Agnes, who watched Sholto intently. I realized in that moment that she didnï¿½t just weep for Segnaï¿½s death, but like me remembered that he hadnï¿½t wept for Nerys. Was she wondering if he would weep for her? Or did she already know that he had loved Segna more? I wasnï¿½t sure, but I could tell it was a raw and painful thought that cut across her features. She stared at the weeping king, and her thoughts carved loss across her face. She would not come out of this nightï¿½s work simply mourning Segna.

She seemed to feel the weight of my gaze, because she turned. She looked at me, the grief in her face changing into a fine, burning hatred. I saw my death in her eyes. Agnes would kill me, if she could. Doyleï¿½s hand tightened on my arm. Frost stepped over the bones in front of us, hidden by the water, and put his broad shoulders in the way of Agnesï¿½s look, as if her look alone could somehow hurt me. That time was past. But there would be more nights, and more ways of making one mortal princess dead. ï¿½She has given her oath,ï¿½ Sholto said in a choked voice. ï¿½It is all we can do tonight.ï¿½ That last was some acknowledgment that he saw what we saw in Agnesï¿½s face. Iï¿½d liked to have believed that he could keep a tight enough rein on the hag, but her look said there would not be a leash of honor, or love, stronger than her hate.

I didnï¿½t want to kill Segna, didnï¿½t want to end her life while Sholto wept for her. And now I knew that I must also kill Agnes or sheï¿½d see me dead. I might not do the deed myself, and it might not happen today, but I would have to call for her death. She was too dangerous, too well placed among the sluagh to be allowed to live.

As I let the thought come all the way up to the front of my mind, I didnï¿½t know whether to laugh, or weep. I didnï¿½t want to kill one hag, and had hated killing the first, yet I was already planning the death of the third. Frost and Doyle lifted me over the hidden ridge of bones. They half floated me to Sholto, where he cried over the hag. They tried to let me go, but I sank to my chin when they released me. They grabbed me in the same moment, both fishing me higher above the black water.

ï¿½She must stand on her own two feet for this kill,ï¿½ Agnes said, her voice holding some of the deadly heat of her look.

ï¿½I donï¿½t know if Iï¿½m tall enough,ï¿½ I said.

ï¿½I have to agree with the hag,ï¿½ Fyfe said. ï¿½The princess must stand on her own for the kill to be hers.ï¿½

Frost and Doyle exchanged glances, still holding me between them. ï¿½Let me down slowly,ï¿½ I said. ï¿½I think I can touch bottom.ï¿½

They did what I asked. If I kept my chin pointed up, I could just barely keep the dirty water out of my mouth. ï¿½We have no weapons with us that will kill the immortal,ï¿½ Doyle said. ï¿½Nor we,ï¿½ Ivar said.

Sholto looked at me, his face raw with grief, and I fought to meet that look. He moved, and a tiny wave Page 79

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slapped my face. I began treading water, so I could keep my head above the surface. As I did so, my leg brushed somethingï¿½I thought it was a bone, but it moved. It was Segnaï¿½s arm, limp in the water. My leg brushed it again, and the arm convulsed.

ï¿½The bones are a killing thing,ï¿½ I said.

Then Segna said in a rattling voice, thick with things that should never be in the throat of the living, ï¿½Kiss me oneï¿½lastï¿½time.ï¿½

Sholto leaned over her with a sob.

Ivar moved everyone back to give us room. He made certain that Agnes moved back, too, which meant that Segnaï¿½sbody began to sink below the water. I moved forward, tried to help catch her, as I treaded water. I got a hand on her body, felt the weight of her cloak wrap around my legs. I felt her tense a heartbeat before her arm, which was behind me now, swept forward. I had time to turn and put both hands on her arm, to keep the claws from my side.

ï¿½Merry!ï¿½ Doyle yelled.

I had time to see her other arm sweeping up behind me. I let go of the arm I was already fending off, and tried to sweep the second arm away from me. Segnaï¿½s body rolled under the water, and took me with her. ï¿½

CHAPTER 14

I HAD TIME TO TAKE A BREATH,THEN WE WERE UNDERWATER.Segnaï¿½s face loomed under the dirty water. Her mouth opened, screaming at me, blood blossoming from her mouth. My hands dug desperately into her arms, too small to encircle them, as I forced them away from me and she dragged me deeper into the water.

Too late I realized that there were other ways to kill me than clawsï¿½she was trying to impale me on submerged bone. I kicked my feet to stay above the bone, to not let her spit me upon it. The point of bone held me on its tip, and I kicked and pushed to keep it from piercing my skin. Segna pushed and fought against me. The strength in her arms and body was almost too much for me. She was wounded, dying, and it was all I could do to keep her from killing me.

My chest was tight; I needed to breathe. Claws, bones, and even the water itself could kill. If I couldnï¿½t push her off me, all she had to do was simply hold me underwater. I prayed, ï¿½Goddess help me!ï¿½

A pale hand shone in the water, and Segna was pulled backward, my grip on her arms pulling me with her. We broke the surface together, both of us gasping for breath. Her breath ended in a spattering cough that covered my face in her blood. For a moment I couldnï¿½t see who had pulled her back. I had to blink her blood out of my eyes to see Sholto with his arm across her upper body. He held her one-armed and yelled, ï¿½Get out, Meredith,get out!ï¿½

I did what he said: I let her go and pushed backward, trusting that there were no bones just behind me. Segna didnï¿½t try to catch me. She used her newly freed hands to claw down Sholtoï¿½s arm, making a Page 80

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crimson ruin of his white flesh.

I treaded water, looking around for Doyle and Frost, and the others. There were no others. I was paddling in a lakeï¿½a deep, cold lakeï¿½no longer the shallow, stagnant pool weï¿½d been wading in before. There was a small island close at hand, but the shore was far away, and it was not a shore I knew. I screamed, ï¿½Doyle!ï¿½ But there was no answer. In truth, I hadnï¿½t expected one, for I could already see that we were either in a vision, or somewhere else in faerie. I didnï¿½t know which, and I didnï¿½t know where. Sholto cried out behind me. I turned in time to see him go under in a wash of red. Segna struck at the water where heï¿½d vanished with the dagger from her belt. Did she realize it was him she attacked now, or did she still think she was killing me?

I screamed, ï¿½Segna!ï¿½

The sound seemed to reach her, because she hesitated. She turned in the water and blinked at me. I pushed myself high enough out of the water so she could see me. Sholto had not yet resurfaced. Segna screamed at me, the sound ending in a wet cough. Blood poured down her chin, but she started moving toward me.

I screamed, ï¿½Sholto!ï¿½ hoping Segna would realize what sheï¿½d done and turn back to rescue him. But she kept swimming, weakly, toward me.

ï¿½He is only white flesh now,ï¿½ she growled, in that too thick, too wet voice. ï¿½He is only sidhe, not sluagh.ï¿½

So much for her helping Sholtoï¿½obviously it was up to me. I took a good breath and dived. The water was clearer here, and I saw Sholto like a pale shadow sinking toward the bottom, blood trailing upward in a cloud. I screamed his name, and the sound echoed through the water. His body jerked, and just then something grabbed my hair and yanked me upward.

Segna pulled me through the water. I could see that she was making for the bare island. My naked back hit the rocks, scraped along them, as she struggled from the lake. She pulled me with her, until both of us were free of the water. She lay panting on the rock, her hand still tangled in my hair. I tried to ease away from that hand, but it convulsed tighter, wrenching my hair as if she meant to take it out by the roots. She started dragging me closer to where she lay.

I fought to get up on all fours so she wouldnï¿½t scrape more of my skin off on the bare rock. In order to do so, I had to take my gaze off her for an instant.

It was a mistake. She jerked me down with that strength that could have torn a horse apart.Jerked me down, onto my stomach. I wedged an arm under my body to keep me off the rocks. Then I saw that she still held the dagger. She pressed it to my cheek. I gazed at her along the line of the blade. She was lying down, almost flat against the rocks.

ï¿½Iï¿½ll scar you,ï¿½ she said. ï¿½Ruin that pretty face.ï¿½

ï¿½Sholto is drowning.ï¿½

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ï¿½The sluagh cannot die by water. If he is sidhe enough to drown, then let him.ï¿½

ï¿½He loves you,ï¿½ I said.

She made a harsh sound that spattered her chin with more blood. ï¿½Not as much as he loves the thought of sidhe flesh in his bed.ï¿½

I couldnï¿½t argue with that.

The tip of her blade wavered above my cheek. ï¿½How much sidhe are you? How well do you heal?ï¿½

I thought it was a rhetorical question, so I didnï¿½t answer it. Would she die of her wounds before she hurt me, or would she heal?

She coughed blood onto the stones, and it was as if she wondered the same thing. She used her grip on my hair to force me onto my back, dragging me closer as she did it. I couldnï¿½t stop herï¿½I could not fight against such strength. She crawled on top of me and put her blade tip over my throat. I grabbed her hand, wrapped both my hands around it, and still trembled with the effort to hold her off me. ï¿½So weak,ï¿½ she gasped above me. ï¿½Why do we follow the sidhe? If I were not dying, you could not hold me off.ï¿½

My voice came out tight with strain as I said, ï¿½Iï¿½m only part sidhe.ï¿½

ï¿½But youï¿½re sidhe enough for him to want you,ï¿½ she growled. ï¿½Glow for me, sidhe! Show me that precious Seelie magic. Show me the magic that makes us follow the sidhe.ï¿½

Her words were fatal. She was right. I had magic. Magic that no one else had. I called my hand of blood. As I summoned it, I tried not to think about the fact that I could have done it soonerï¿½before she hurt Sholto. I wielded the hand of blood. I could have made her bleed out from just a tiny cut, and these were not tiny cuts. I started to glow under the press of her body. My body shone through the blood she was dripping on me. I whispered, ï¿½Not Seelie magic, Segna,Unseelie magic. Bleed for me.ï¿½

She didnï¿½t understand at first. She kept trying to shove the blade into my throat, and I kept holding her just off me. She dug her hand into my hair so that her claws raked my scalp, bloodied me. I called blood, and her wounds gushed.

The blood poured over me, hotï¿½hotter than my own skin. I turned my head away to keep my eyes clear of it. My hands grew slippery with her blood, and I was afraid that her knife would slip past my defenses before I could bleed her out. So much blood; it poured and poured and poured. Could a night-hag bleed to death?

Could they even be killed this way? I didnï¿½t know, I just didnï¿½t know. The tip of her knife pierced my skin like a sharp bite. My arms were shaking with the effort to keep her off me. I screamed, ï¿½Bleed for me!ï¿½ I spat her blood out of my mouth, and still her knife wormed another fraction into my throat. Barely, barely below the skinï¿½I wasnï¿½t hurt yet, but I would be soon. Then her hand hesitated, pulled backward. I blinked up at her through a mask ofher own blood. Her eyes were wide and startled. There was a white spear sticking out through her throat. Page 82

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Sholto stood above her, bandages gone, his wound bare to the air, both hands gripping the spear. He pulled the spear out with a wrenching motion. A fountain of blood spilled out of her neck. I whispered, ï¿½Bleed.ï¿½

She collapsed in a pool of crimson, the knife still clasped in her hand. Sholto stood over her and drove the white spear into her back.She spasmed underneath him, her mouth opening and closing, hands and feet scrabbling at the bare rock. Only when she stopped moving completely did he take the spear out. He stood swaying, but used the tip to send her dagger spinning into the lake. Then he collapsed to his knees beside her, leaning on the spear like a crutch.

By the time I staggered to him, I wasnï¿½t glowing. I was tired, and hurt, and covered in my enemyï¿½s blood. I fell to my knees beside him on the bloody rock, and I touched his shoulder, as if I wasnï¿½t sure he was real. ï¿½I saw you drown,ï¿½ I said.

He seemed to have trouble focusing on me, but said, ï¿½I am sidhe and sluagh. We cannot die by drowning.ï¿½ He coughed hard enough that he doubled over, throwing up water onto the rock, as he clung to the white shaft of the spear. ï¿½But it hurts as if it were death.ï¿½

I embraced him, and he winced, covered in wounds new and old. I held him more carefully, clinging to him, covering his upper body in Segnaï¿½s blood.

His voice came rough with coughing. ï¿½Iï¿½m holding the spear of bone. It was one of the signs of kingship once for my people.ï¿½

ï¿½Where did it come from?ï¿½ I asked.

ï¿½It was in the bottom of the lake, waiting for me.ï¿½

ï¿½Where are we?ï¿½ I asked.

ï¿½Itï¿½s theIslandofBones . It used to be in the middle of our garden, but it has become the stuff of legend.ï¿½

I touched what Iï¿½d thought was rock, and found he was right. It was rock, but the rock had once been bone. The island was made up of fossils. ï¿½It feels awfully solid for a legend,ï¿½ I said. He managed a smile. ï¿½What in the name of Danu is going on, Meredith? What is happening?ï¿½

I smelled roses, thick and sweet.

He raised his head, looked around him. ï¿½I smell herbs.ï¿½

ï¿½I smell roses,ï¿½ I said, softly.

He looked at me.ï¿½What is happening, Meredith? How did we get here?ï¿½

ï¿½I prayed.ï¿½

He frowned at me. ï¿½I donï¿½t understand.ï¿½

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The smell of roses grew thicker, as if I were standing in a summer meadow. A chalice appeared in my hand, where it lay against Sholtoï¿½s naked back.

He startled away from the touch of it as if it had burned him. He tried to turn too quickly, and it must have pained the open wound on his stomach, for he winced, sucking in his breath sharply. He fell back onto his side, the spear still gripped in one hand.

I held up the gold-and-silver cup so that it caught the light. It was really only then that it sank in that there was light here. It was sunlight, glinting on the cup, and warm on my skin. For my life, I couldnï¿½t remember if there had been sun a moment ago. I might have asked Sholto, but he was focused on what was in my hand, and whispered, ï¿½It canï¿½t be what I think it is.ï¿½

ï¿½It is the chalice.ï¿½

He gave a small shake of his head.ï¿½How?ï¿½

ï¿½I dreamt of it, as I dreamt of Abeloecï¿½s horn cup, and when I woke it was beside me.ï¿½

He leaned heavily on the spear, and reached toward the shining cup. I held it out toward him, but his fingers stopped just short of it, as if he feared to touch it.

His reluctance reminded me that things could happen if I touched one of the men with the chalice. But werenï¿½t we in vision? And if so, would that hold true? I looked at Segnaï¿½s body, felt her blood drying on my skin. Was this vision, or was it real?

ï¿½And is not vision real?ï¿½ came a womanï¿½s voice.

ï¿½Who said that?ï¿½ Sholto asked.

A figure appeared. She was hidden completely behind the grey of a hooded cloak. She stood in the clear sunlight, but it was like looking at a shadowï¿½a shadow with nothing to give it form. ï¿½Do not fear the touch of the Goddess,ï¿½ the figure said.

ï¿½Who are you?ï¿½ Sholto whispered.

ï¿½Who do you think I am?ï¿½came the voice. In the past, she had always either appeared more solid or been only a voice, a scent on the wind.

Sholto licked his lips and whispered, ï¿½Goddess.ï¿½

My hand rose of its own accord. I held the chalice out to him, but it was as if someone else were moving my hand. ï¿½Touch the chalice,ï¿½ I whispered.

He kept his grip on the spear, leaning on it, as he stretched out his other hand. ï¿½What will happen when I touch it?ï¿½

ï¿½I donï¿½t know,ï¿½ I said.

ï¿½Then why do you want me to do it?ï¿½

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ï¿½She wants you to,ï¿½ I said.

He hesitated again with his fingers just above the shining surface. The Goddessï¿½s voice breathed around us with the scent of summer roses: ï¿½Choose.ï¿½

Sholto took in a sharp breath and blew it out, like a sprinter, then touched the gold of the cup. I smelled herbs, as if I had brushed against a border of thyme and lavender around my roses. A black-cloaked figure appeared beside the grey. Taller, broader of shoulders, and somehowï¿½even shrouded by the cloakï¿½male. As the cloak could not hide the Goddessï¿½s femininity, so the cloak could not hide the Godï¿½s masculinity. Sholtoï¿½s hand wrapped around the chalice, covering my hand with his, so that we both held the cup. The voice came deep, and rich, and ever changing. I knew the voice of the God, always male, but never the same. ï¿½You have spilled your blood, risked your lives, killed on this ground,ï¿½ he intoned. That dark hood turned toward Sholto, and for a moment I thought I saw a chin, lips, but they changed even as I saw them. It was dizzying. ï¿½What would you give to bring life back to your people, Sholto?ï¿½

ï¿½Anything,ï¿½ he whispered.

ï¿½Be careful what you offer,ï¿½ the Goddess said, and her voice, too, was every womanï¿½s, and none. ï¿½I would give my life to save my people,ï¿½ Sholto said.

ï¿½I do not wish to take it,ï¿½ I responded, because the Goddess had offered me a similar choice once. Amatheon had bared his neck for a blade, so that life could return to the land of faerie. I had refused, because there were other ways to give life to the land. I was descended from fertility deities, and I knew well that blood was not the only thing that made the grass grow.

ï¿½This is not your choice,ï¿½ she said to me. Was there a note of sorrow in her voice?

A dagger appeared in the air in front of Sholto. Its hilt and blade were all white, and gleamed oddly in the light. Sholtoï¿½s hand left the chalice and grabbed for the knife, almost by reflex. ï¿½The hilt is bone. It is the match to the spear,ï¿½ Sholto said, and there was soft wonder in his voice as he gazed at the dagger. ï¿½Do you remember what the dagger was used for?ï¿½ said the God. ï¿½It was used to slay the old king. To spill his blood on this island,ï¿½ Sholto replied obediently.

ï¿½Why?ï¿½ the God asked.

ï¿½This dagger is the heart of the sluagh, or was once.ï¿½

ï¿½What does a heart need?ï¿½

ï¿½Blood, and lives,ï¿½ Sholto answered, as if he were taking a test. ï¿½You spilled blood and life on the island, but it is not alive.ï¿½

Sholto shook his head. ï¿½Segna was not a suitable sacrifice for this place. It needs a kingï¿½s blood.ï¿½ He held the knife out toward the Godï¿½s shadowy figure. ï¿½Spill my blood, take my life,bring the heart of the sluagh back to life.ï¿½

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ï¿½You are the king, Sholto. If you die, who will take back the spear, and bring the power back to your people?ï¿½

I knelt there, the blood growing tacky on my skin. I cradled the chalice in my hands, and had a bad feeling that I knew where this talk was going.

Sholto lowered the knife and asked, ï¿½What do you want of me, Lord?ï¿½

The figure pointed at me. ï¿½There is royal blood to spill. Doit, and the heart of the sluagh will live once more.ï¿½

Sholto stared at me, the look on his face full of shock. I wondered if my face had looked that way when the choice had been mine. ï¿½You mean for me to kill Meredith?ï¿½

ï¿½She is royal blood, a fit sacrifice for this place.ï¿½

ï¿½No,ï¿½ Sholto said.

ï¿½You said you would do anything,ï¿½ the Goddess said.

ï¿½I can offer my life, but I cannot offer hers,ï¿½ Sholto said. ï¿½It isnï¿½t mine to give.ï¿½ His hand was mottled with the force of his grip on the hilt of the knife.

ï¿½You are king,ï¿½ the God said.

ï¿½A king tends his people, he doesnï¿½t butcher them.ï¿½

ï¿½You would condemn your people to a slow death for the life of one woman?ï¿½

Emotions chased over Sholtoï¿½s face, but finally he dropped the knife on the rock. It rang as if it were the hardest metal rather than bone. ï¿½I cannot, will not harm Meredith.ï¿½

ï¿½Why will you not?ï¿½

ï¿½She is not sluagh. She should not have to die to bring us back to life. It is not her place.ï¿½

ï¿½If she wishes to be queen over all of faerie, then she will be sluagh.ï¿½

ï¿½Then let her be queen. If she dies here, she will not be queen, and that will leave us with only Cel. I would bring life back to the sluagh and destroy all of faerie in one blow. She holds the chalice.The chalice, my lord. The chalice after all these years is returned. I do not understand how you can ask me to destroy the only hope we have.ï¿½

ï¿½Is she your hope, Sholto?ï¿½ the God asked.

ï¿½Yes,ï¿½ he whispered. There was so much emotion in that one word. The dark figure looked at the grey. The Goddess spoke. ï¿½There is no fear in you, Meredith.Why not?ï¿½

I tried to put it into words. ï¿½Sholto is right, my lady. The chalice has returned to us, and magic is returning Page 86

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to the sidhe. You use my body as your vessel. I do not think you would waste all that on one bloody sacrifice.ï¿½ I glanced at Sholto. ï¿½And I have felt his hand in mine. I have felt his desire for me. I think it would destroy something in him to kill me. I do not believe my God and Goddessso heartless as that.ï¿½

ï¿½Does he love you then, Meredith?ï¿½

ï¿½I do not know, but he loves the idea of holding me in his arms. That I know.ï¿½

ï¿½Do you love this woman, Sholto?ï¿½ the God asked.

Sholto opened his mouth, closed it,then said, ï¿½It is not a gentlemanï¿½s place to answer such questions in front of a lady.ï¿½

ï¿½This is a place for truth, Sholto.ï¿½

ï¿½Itï¿½s all right, Sholto,ï¿½ I said. ï¿½Answer true. I wonï¿½t hold it against you.ï¿½

ï¿½Thatï¿½s what Iï¿½m afraid of,ï¿½ he said softly.

The look on his face made me laugh. The laughter echoed on the air like the song of birds. ï¿½Joy will suffice to bring this place back to life,ï¿½ the Goddess said. ï¿½If you bring life to this place with joy, then you will change the very heart of the sluagh. Do you understand that, Sholto?ï¿½ the God said.

ï¿½Not exactly.ï¿½

ï¿½The heart of the sluagh is based on death, blood, combat, and terror. Laughter, joy, and life will make a different heart for the sluagh.ï¿½

ï¿½I am sorry, my lord, but I do not understand.ï¿½

ï¿½Meredith,ï¿½ the Goddess said, ï¿½explainit to him.ï¿½ The Goddess was beginning to fade, like a dream as dawnï¿½s light steals through the window.

ï¿½I do not understand,ï¿½ Sholto said.

ï¿½You are sluagh and Unseelie sidhe,ï¿½ the God said; ï¿½you are a creature of terror and darkness. It is what you are, but it is not all you are.ï¿½ With that, the dark shape began to fade, too. Sholto reached out to him. ï¿½Wait, I donï¿½t understand.ï¿½

The God and Goddess vanished, as if theyï¿½d never been, and the sunlight dimmed with them. We were left in gloom. It was the twilight of the underground of faerie these daysï¿½not the aberration of the momentous sunlight that had bathed us moments ago.

Sholto yelled, ï¿½My God, wait!ï¿½

ï¿½Sholto,ï¿½ I said. I had to say it twice more before he looked at me. Page 87

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His face was stricken. ï¿½I donï¿½t know what they want from me. What am I to do? How do I bring the heart of my people back with joy?ï¿½

I smiled at him, the mask of blood cracking with it. I had to clean off this mess. ï¿½Oh, Sholto, you get your wish.ï¿½

ï¿½My wish?What wish?ï¿½

ï¿½Let me clean off some of this blood beforehand.ï¿½

ï¿½Before what?ï¿½

I touched his arm. ï¿½Sex, Sholto, they meant sex.ï¿½

ï¿½What?ï¿½ The look on his face, so astonished, made me laugh again. The sound echoed across the lake, and again I thought I heard birdsong.

ï¿½Did you hear that?ï¿½

ï¿½I heard your laughter, like music.ï¿½

ï¿½This place is ready to come back to life, Sholto, but if we use laughter and joy and sex to make it happen, then it will be a different place than it was before. Do you understand that?ï¿½

ï¿½Iï¿½m not sure. We are going to have sex here, now?ï¿½

ï¿½Yes. Let me wash off some of the blood, and then yes.ï¿½ I wasnï¿½t sure heï¿½d heard anything else Iï¿½d said. ï¿½Have you seen the new garden outside the throne room doors in the Unseelie sithen?ï¿½

He seemed to have to fight to concentrate, but finally he nodded. ï¿½Itï¿½s a meadow with a stream now, not the torture area the queen had made of it.ï¿½

ï¿½Exactly,ï¿½ I said. ï¿½It was a place of pain and now itï¿½s a meadow with butterflies and bunnies. Iï¿½m partSeelie Court ,Sholto, do you understand what Iï¿½m saying? That part of me will impact the magic we do here and now.ï¿½

ï¿½What magic will we perform here and now?ï¿½ he asked, smiling. He was still leaning heavily on the spear, the raw wound of what the Seelie had done to him bare to the air. Iï¿½d had enough of my own injuries to know that just the touch of air hurt when the skin was abraded. The bone knife lay next to Sholtoï¿½s knees. Truthfully, Iï¿½d thought it might vanish when the God and Goddess wentï¿½for he had refused to use it for its true purpose. Nevertheless, Sholto was still surrounded by major relics of the sluagh. Heï¿½d been visited by deity. We knelt in a place of legend, with the possibility of bringing his people to a rebirth of their powers. And all he seemed to be able to think of was the fact that we might be having sex. I looked in his face. I tried to see past the almost shy anticipation there. He seemed afraid to be too eager. He was a good king, yet the promise of sex with another sidhe had chased all the cautions from his mind. I could not allow him to leap in, though, until I was sure he understood what might happen to his people. He had to understand orï¿½or what?

ï¿½Sholto,ï¿½ I said.

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He reached out to me. I took his hand to keep him from touching my face. ï¿½I need you to hear me, Sholto, to truly hear me.ï¿½

ï¿½I will listen to anything you say.ï¿½

He was willing to follow my lead. Iï¿½d noticed that about him inL.A. ï¿½that the dominant, frightening king of the sluagh became submissive in intimate situations. Had Black Agnes taught him that, or Segna? Or was he just wired that way?

I patted his hand, more friendly than sexual. ï¿½What I bring to sex magic is meadows and butterflies. Some of the corridors in the Unseelie mound are turning to white marble with veins of gold.ï¿½

His face became a little more serious, less amused. ï¿½Yes, the queen was most upset,ï¿½ he said. ï¿½She accused you of remaking her sithen in the image of theSeelie Court .ï¿½

ï¿½Exactly,ï¿½ I said.

His eyes widened.

ï¿½I didnï¿½t do it on purpose,ï¿½ I said. ï¿½I donï¿½t control what the energy does with the sithen. Sex magic isnï¿½t like other magicksï¿½itï¿½s wilder, and has more a mind of its own.ï¿½

ï¿½The sluagh are wild magic, Meredith.ï¿½

ï¿½Yes, but wild sluagh and wild Seelie magic arenï¿½t the same.ï¿½

He turned my hand palm-up. ï¿½You bear the hand of flesh and the hand of blood. Those are not Seelie powers.ï¿½

ï¿½No. In combat I seem to be all Unseelie, but in sex magic it is the Seelie in my blood that comes out. Do you understand what that might mean for your sluagh?ï¿½

All the light seemed to drain from his face, so somber now. ï¿½If we have sex, and the sluagh are reborn, you might remake the sluagh in your image.ï¿½

ï¿½Yes,ï¿½ I said.

He stared at my hand as if heï¿½d never seen it before. ï¿½If I had taken your life, then the sluagh would have remained what they are: a terrible darkness to sweep all before us. If we use sex to bring life back to my people, then they may become more like the sidhe, or even theSeelie sidhe.ï¿½

ï¿½Yes,ï¿½ I said, ï¿½yes.ï¿½ I was relieved that he finally understood. ï¿½Would it be so terrible if we were more sidhe?ï¿½ He almost whispered it, as if he spoke to himself. ï¿½You are their king, Sholto. Only you can make this choice for your people.ï¿½

ï¿½They would hate me for making this choice.ï¿½ He stared at me. ï¿½But what other choice is there? I will not spill your life away, not even to bring life back toall of my kingdom.ï¿½ He closed his eyes and let go of my hand. He began to glow, soft, and white like the moon rising through his skin. He opened his eyes, and the triple gold of his irises gleamed. He traced a glowing fingertip across the palm of my hand, and it drew a line Page 89

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of cold white fire across my skin. I shuddered from that small touch. He smiled. ï¿½I am sidhe, Meredith. I understand that now. I am sluagh, too, but I am also sidhe. I want to be sidhe, Meredith. I want to be fully sidhe. I want to know what it feels like to be what I am.ï¿½

I drew my hand back from him, so I could think without the press of his power against my skin. ï¿½You are king here. You must make this choice.ï¿½ My voice was a little hoarse. ï¿½It is no choice,ï¿½ he said.ï¿½You dead, and lost to all of faerieï¿½or you in my arms? It is no choice.ï¿½

He laughed then, and his laughter, too, echoed across the lake. I heard chimes, or birds, or both. ï¿½Besides, Darkness and Frost would kill me if I took you as a sacrifice.ï¿½

ï¿½They would not slay the king of the sluagh and bring war to faerie,ï¿½ I said. ï¿½If you truly believe that their loyalties are still to faerie rather than to you alone, then you do not see their eyes when they look at you. Their vengeance would be terrible, Meredith. The fact that there are still assassination attempts against you only shows that some of the sidhe do not yet understand how short-leashed the queen has kept Darkness and Frost. Especially Darkness,ï¿½ he said, his voice going low. His face looked haunted. He shook the thought away and looked back at me. ï¿½I have seen the Darkness hunt. If Hell Hounds, Yeth Hounds, still existed among us, they would belong to the sluagh, to the wild hunt, and the blood of that wild hunt still runs through Doyleï¿½s veins, Meredith.ï¿½

ï¿½So you do not kill me for fear of Doyle and Frost?ï¿½

He looked at me, and for a moment let the veil drop from those glowing eyes. He let me see his need, such need, as if it should have been carved in letters across the air. ï¿½It is not fear that impels me to spare your life,ï¿½ he whispered.

I gave him a smile, and the chalice still gripped in my hand pulsed once against my skin. The chalice would be part of what we did. ï¿½Let me wash some of this blood away. Then I will put my glow against yours.ï¿½

His own glow began to fade a little, his burning eyes cooling to as normal as they ever got. It was hard to call his triple-gold irises normal, even by sidhe standards, though. ï¿½I am hurt, Meredith. I would have had our first time together be perfect. Iï¿½m not certain how much good Iï¿½m going to be to you tonight.ï¿½

ï¿½Iï¿½m hurt, too,ï¿½ I said, ï¿½but weï¿½ll both do our best.ï¿½ I stood up and found my body stiff with injuries I hadnï¿½t even realized Iï¿½d sufferedï¿½small wounds that I must have received in the fight. ï¿½I will not be able to make love the way you wish it,ï¿½ he said. ï¿½How do you know what I wish?ï¿½ I asked as I made my way slowly across the rough and smooth of the rock.

ï¿½You had quite an audience for Mistralï¿½s turn with you. The rumors have grown, but if even part of it is true, I will not be able to dominate you as he did.ï¿½

I slid into the water. It found every small cut and scrape. The water was cool and soothing, but at the same time it made the wounds burn. ï¿½I donï¿½t want to be dominated right now, Sholto. Make love to meï¿½let it be gentle between us, if that is what we want.ï¿½

He laughed again, and I heard bells. ï¿½I think gentle is all Iï¿½m capable of tonight.ï¿½

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ï¿½I do not always want rough, Sholto. My tastes are more varied than that.ï¿½ I was shoulder-deep in the water now, trying to get the blood off me. The blood began to dissolve in the water, washing away almost more easily than it should have.

ï¿½How varied are your tastes?ï¿½ he asked.

I smiled at him. ï¿½Very.ï¿½ I dunked under the water in a bid to get the blood off my face, out of my hair. I came up gasping, wiping the runnels of pinkish water from my face. I went under two more times until the water ran clear.

Sholto was at the edge of the island when I came up the last time. He was standing, using the spear like a crutch. The white knife was tucked carefully through the cloth of his pants, the way youï¿½d stick a pin through: in, then out, so the point was exposed to the air. He offered me his hand. I took it, though I could have gotten out by myself, and I knew that bending over must hurt him. He lifted me out of the water, but his eyes never got to my face. His gaze stayed on my body, my breasts, as the water ran down them. There are women who would have taken offense, but I wasnï¿½t one of them. In that moment he wasnï¿½t a king, he was a manï¿½and that was just fine with me. ï¿½

CHAPTER 15

SHOLTO LAY NAKED BEFORE ME. Iï¿½D NEVER SEEN HIM LIKE THAT,lying naked, and waiting, knowing that we didnï¿½t have to stop.

The first and only time Iï¿½d seen him completely nude heï¿½d still had extras. But he had used his own personal magic then to make his stomach look like the perfect six-pack abs. Even to the touch, I hadnï¿½t been able to feel what Iï¿½d known was there. He was very good at personal glamour, but then heï¿½d spent years hiding that bit of deformity.

Now he lay back, using his own pants as some small cushion against the stone. The Seelie had skinned him from just below his ribs to just above his groin. Iï¿½d seen the wound, but now it loomed larger. The pain must have been a fearsome thing.

He had laid the white spear and the bone knife to one side of him. I had set the chalice on the other side of him. We would make love between the chalice, symbol of the Goddess, and two symbols that were oh, so masculine.

The air above his body wavered, like heat off a road, and the next moment there was no wound. He was back to creating the illusion of that perfect six-pack. Of all my lovers, only Rhys had it for real. ï¿½You donï¿½t need to hide, Sholto,ï¿½ I said.

ï¿½The look on your face is not the look I want to see the first time we make love, Meredith.ï¿½

ï¿½Take the glamour away, Sholto, let me truly see you.ï¿½

ï¿½It is no more beautiful than what used to be there.ï¿½ His voice was sad. I touched the smooth skin of his shoulder. ï¿½You were beautiful. You are beautiful.ï¿½

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He gave me a smile as sad as his tone. ï¿½Meredith, no lies,please .ï¿½

I studied his face. He was as fair of face as Frost, who was one of the most perfect men Iï¿½d ever seen. I said out loud, ï¿½The queen once called you the most perfect sidhe body she had ever seen. You are wounded, you will heal; it has not changed the perfection of you.ï¿½

ï¿½The queen said that it was a pity that one of the most perfect sidhe bodies sheï¿½d ever seen was ruined by such deformity.ï¿½

Okay, maybe mentioning the queenï¿½s words hadnï¿½t been a good idea. I tried again. I crawled to his face and leaned over to touch his lips with mine. But it was a cold kiss, and he barely responded. I drew back. ï¿½What is wrong?ï¿½

ï¿½InLos Angeles , even the sight of you clothed hardened my body. Tonight I am weak.ï¿½

I gazed down the long length of his body to find that he was still soft, and as small as he got. He was one of those men that wasnï¿½t truly small even when soft; a shower, not a grower. I had magic in me that could bring a man to life, as it were, but it was Seelie magic. I wanted to use less Seelie magic in this union, not more. Although Sholto had made the decision to accept the risk, I feared for the sluagh. I feared them losing their identity as a people.

Of course, there were other ways to bring a man to life besides magic. I crawled, carefully, on the bare rocks, until I knelt by his hip. ï¿½You arenï¿½t weak, Sholto, youï¿½re hurt. There is no shame in that.ï¿½

ï¿½To see you nude and not to react is shameful.ï¿½

I gave him the smile he needed and said, ï¿½I think we can fix that.ï¿½

ï¿½Magic?ï¿½ he said, staring down his body at me.

I shook my head. ï¿½No magic, Sholto, just this.ï¿½ I traced my hand over his thighs, reveling in the smooth skin. The fey didnï¿½t have much body hair, but I think the fact that he was part nightflyerï¿½a creature that had no hairï¿½made him utterly smooth.Smooth as a woman and so soft, yet terribly male from the bottoms of his feet to the top of his head. I traced along the inside of his thighs and he spread them for me, so that I could sweep upward and touch the silken skin between his legs. He was still soft and loose as I rolled those delicate balls in my hand.

The touch bowed his spine, sending his head back, eyes closed. But with the pleasure came a sound of pain. The movement had hurt the butchered skin across the middle of his body. What progress Iï¿½d made wilted in the face of such pain.

He threw his arm across his eyes and made a sound between a sob and a yell. ï¿½I will be useless to you tonight, Meredith. I will be useless to my people. I will not bring us back to life with death, and I cannot bring us back with life.ï¿½

ï¿½I would wait until you were healed, Sholto, if I could. But this night is about bringing life back to faerie. Console yourselfï¿½we will have other nights, or days. Other times, after you are healed, to do what we want Page 92

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to do. Tonight, we do what we must.ï¿½

He uncovered his eyes and gazed down at me. His face held such despair. ï¿½I canï¿½t think of any intercourse position that isnï¿½t going to hurt you, and you donï¿½t like pain,ï¿½ I said.

ï¿½I did not say I did not like pain, but not this much.ï¿½

I stored that away for future reference. ï¿½I know. There are limits for most of us beyond which pain is just pain.ï¿½

ï¿½I am sorry, Meredith, but I fear I have reached that point with these wounds.ï¿½

ï¿½Weï¿½ll see,ï¿½ I said. I leaned back over his body until I could kiss the front of him. I drew him, gently, into my mouth. The only other time Iï¿½d had him in my mouth he had been long and hard, and eager. Tonight his body was quiet, loose, and still.

At first, I was almost impatient, but I let that go. This was not a moment for impatience, or hurryingï¿½this was Sholtoï¿½s first time with another sidhe. This was one of his most treasured dreams, and he was coming to it hurt, and not at his best. Heï¿½d probably fantasized this moment, and now none of his fantasies was coming true. Reality was a harsher mistress than imagination.

I let go of the impatience. I stopped wondering what Doyle and Frost and the others must be thinking. I let go the thought that my powers were growing and I had no idea what they would do next. I let all the worries go, and gave myself over to this moment. I gave myself over to the sensation of him in my mouth. I had been denied the chance to give oral sex to most of my lovers. They didnï¿½t want to risk spilling their seed anywhere but between my legs, wasting a chance to father the next heir to the throneï¿½a chance to make themselves king to my queen. I didnï¿½t blame them, but I loved oral sex, and Iï¿½d missed performing it. The few times Iï¿½d been able to persuade anyone, he had already been excitedï¿½big, hard, which was a pleasure all its ownï¿½but I liked the feel of a man when he was small.So much easier to take all of him in my mouth.No straining, no fighting all that length or width.

I rolled him in my mouth, sucking gently, at first. But I wanted to enjoy all the sensation I could while he remained small, so I increased in intensity. I could feel him moving in my mouth, the skin sliding,the meat of him so easy to work with. I sucked him fast and faster, until he cried out, ï¿½Enough, enough.ï¿½

I moved to the loose roll of his balls, licking along the skin, sliding all that silkiness between my lips and tongue. I watched him grow larger as I played with his balls. I rolled one testicle, carefully, into my mouth so I could play with all of it. He was too big for me to try to take both in at the same time; it would be too easy to injure such tender parts. The last thing I wanted to do was cause him any new pain. His eyes were wild as they looked down his body at me. The gold of his eyes started to glowï¿½molten gold in the center, amber shot through with sun, then a pale yellow-gold like elm leaves in fall. One moment his eyes were all that glowed, and the next that light exploded down his body, as if white light were liquid running just under his skin. His skin glowed even underneath the red ruin, as if he were carved of rubies set in ivory, with the sun glowing through the white and red of his body.

I moved over his body, not with him inside, but with a knee on either side of his hips. I gazed down at him, wanting to remember the beauty of him the first time. The glow had spread to the tips of his hair, as if every Page 93

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strand were dipped in moonlight. He was a thing of light and magic, but as I used my hand to help slide him inside me, he was all silken skin, and muscle.

I slipped the head of him inside me, and found I was almost too tight. Iï¿½d performed all the foreplay on him, and received none for myself. I was wet from the pleasure, but tight, so very tight. He managed to gasp out, ï¿½Youï¿½re not open enough.ï¿½

ï¿½Is it hurting you?ï¿½ My own voice sounded whispery.

ï¿½No,ï¿½ he whispered.

ï¿½Then I want to feel you force your way into me. I want to feel each inch push inside while Iï¿½m this tight.ï¿½ I wriggled my hips a little lower, fighting for each delicious inch. I was so tight that he touched every bit of me, sliding heavy andslow over that spot inside me.

I meant to have him inside me as deep as heï¿½d go before my release, but my body had other ideas. It was as if my body being so tight around his made his body press just right, just exactly right against that one spot. One moment I was trying to be so careful, easing him inside me, and the next I was screaming my orgasm, my body bucking around his, the movement forcing more of me down the shaft of him faster than I would have managed without it. And as long as I could keep pushing him inside me the orgasm kept going. It kept on as I shoved him inside me, and somewhere before the last inch of him went inside, he started helping to push. I sat on top of him with our bodies wedded as close as man and woman could be, the orgasm dancing me above him. I was aware, vaguely, that my skin was glowingï¿½a moon shineto match his own. The wind of my own power blew my hair around my face, garnets sparkling in fire. My eyes glowed so brightly that I could see the colored shadows of the green and gold of my own eyes at the edges of my vision. I screamed and writhed above him on wave after wave of pleasure.This had not been planned, or achieved with skill, but more by luck; a key sliding into a lock at the perfect moment. Our bodies took that moment and rode it. I heard him scream my name, felt his body buck under mine,felt him drive himself home as hard and as fast as he could. He hit the end of me, and that orgasmed me again. I threw my head back and screamed his name to the heavens.

He went still underneath me, but I couldnï¿½t focus my eyes enough to see him, not really. My vision ran in streamers of colors. I collapsed forward, and forgot.Forgot that he was still hurt.Forgot that I was wearing the queenï¿½s ring on my right hand; the ring that had once belonged to a real fertility goddess. I had a second to realize that the skin of his stomach under my hands was no longer raw, but felt smooth and perfect. I blinked down, fighting through pleasureï¿½s afterglow to see him. His stomach was as flat and perfect as his illusion once had been, but this was no illusion. He had his tentacles back, but as a tattoo so bright and life-like that a glance made them seem real. They were a picture, drawn upon his skin. I saw all that in three blinks of an eye, but there was no next blink, for the ring suddenly came to life. It was like being plunged into water with an electric current in it. It was not enough to kill, but enough to hurt. Sholto yelled under me, and not from pleasure.

I tried to take the ring away from his body, but my hand seemed glued to his newly decorated skin. The power blew out from us, as if the magic spilled away over the bare rock. I could breathe again. Page 94

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Sholto gasped, ï¿½What was that?ï¿½

ï¿½The ring.ï¿½

He gazed down his body at me, and my hand pressed to his abdomen. His fingers touched the tattoo, a look on his face of wonder, and of loss. It was as if heï¿½d been given his dearest wish, and in the same moment experienced a loss that would haunt him forever.

I heard metal rolling along rock. The sound made me turn. The chalice was rolling toward us, though the ground was utterly flat. I looked to the other side and found the spear of bone rolling from the other side. They were going to touch us at the same time.

ï¿½Hold on,ï¿½ I said.

ï¿½To what?ï¿½

ï¿½To me.ï¿½

He grabbed my arms, and my hand was freed from his stomach. I grabbed his arms without thinking, putting the ring against his bare skin, again. Sometimes Goddess pulls us by the hand down our path, and sometimes she gets behind us and pushes off the cliff edge.

We were about to be pushed.

ï¿½

CHAPTER 16

WOOD, METAL, FLESH; ALL OF IT HIT US AT ONCE. WE WERE LEFTclinging to each other in the center of a blast of power that splashed the lake up over the island. We drowned for a moment,then the world literally moved. It felt as if the island bucked up and dropped down again. The water cleared, the earth stopped moving, and the chalice and spear were gone. We were left wet and gasping, huddled naked together. I was afraid to let go, as if our arms around each otherï¿½our bodies still wedded togetherï¿½were all that kept us from falling off the face of the earth. Voices came, yells, shouts. I picked out Doyleï¿½s voice, Frost, and Agnesï¿½s harsh call. The voices made us both turn, blinking water out of our eyes. On the shore, which was a lot farther away than it had been before, were all our guards. We were back in the dead gardens of the sluagh, but the lake was full of water now, and theIslandofBones was in the middle of it.

Doyle dived into the water, his dark body cutting the surface. Frost followed him. The other guards did the same. Sholtoï¿½s uncles discarded their cloaks and hit the water after my guards. Only Black Agnes stayed on the shore.

I looked down at Sholto; I was still on top of him. ï¿½Weï¿½re about to be rescued.ï¿½

He smiled up at me. ï¿½Do we need rescuing?ï¿½

ï¿½Iï¿½m not sure,ï¿½ I said.

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He laughed then, and the sound echoed against the bare stone of the cavern. He hugged me tight, and laid a gentle kiss on my cheek. He breathed his words against my skin: ï¿½Thank you, Meredith.ï¿½

I pressed my cheek against his and whispered back, ï¿½You are most welcome, Sholto.ï¿½

He buried his hand in my wet hair and said, softly, ï¿½I have long desired you to whisper my name like that.ï¿½

ï¿½Like what?ï¿½ I asked, face still pressed against his.

ï¿½Like a lover.ï¿½

I heard movement behind us, and Sholto released his hold on my hair. I kissed him on the lips, before I lifted my body to see who had made the island first.

Doyleï¿½of course it was Doyleï¿½walked toward us. Hegleamed black and shining, water dripping down his nakedness. The light caught blue and purple gleams from his skin as he moved toward us. The light seemed to dazzle on his skin and on the waterï¿½reflected brilliance. My skin was warm in the light. Sunlight, it was sunlight again. Like noonday come to this shadowy place.

There was a green haze to the bare rock where Sholto and I lay. That haze took the shape of tiny stems, reaching out over the rock, anchoringthemselves as Doyle came to stand beside us. His face struggled for an expression, and finally settled on that stern face, the one that had frightened me as a child when he stood at my auntï¿½s side. Somehow the expression wasnï¿½t nearly as frightening with him naked, and given my now so intimate knowledge of him. The Queenï¿½s Darkness was my lover, and I could never again see him as that threatening figure, simply the queenï¿½s assassin, her black dog to fetch and kill. I stared up at him, still pressed tight in Sholtoï¿½s arms. I sat up, and his arms fell away from me, reluctantly. Since I was still riding his body, it wasnï¿½t as if he stopped touching me. His hands slid down my arms, staying in contact. I glanced at Sholtoï¿½s face and found him looking not at me, but at Doyle. Sholtoï¿½s face was defiant, almost triumphant. I didnï¿½t understand the look. I glanced at Doyle, and saw behind that stern face a flash of anger. For the first time in weeks I remembered how they had both found me inLos Angeles . They had fought, both convinced that the queen had sent each of them to kill me. But there had been something personal about that fight. I couldnï¿½t remember what they had said to each other that made me think they had some kind of bad history, but I had felt it. The looks they gave each other now confirmed that I was missing something.Some disagreement, or challenge, or even grudge between these two men. Not good.

Rhys came up the slope of the rock, dripping like wet ivory. He stopped short of us all, as if he also sensed, or saw, the tension.

What do you do when youï¿½re naked with one lover, and another lover is standing there? Sholto was not my king, or husband. I took my hand from him and offered it to Doyle. Doyle hesitated a moment, his gaze on his rival and not on me. Then those black eyes moved to me. His expression never truly changed, but some breath of harshness left him. Or perhaps some touch of gentleness returned to him. There was movement behind him, and Frost and Mistral struggled up the slope. They were dressed, and weapons bulged everywhere. Frost actually caught Mistralï¿½s arm as the other man slipped. The clothes and Page 96

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weapons had slowed them down.

Now they stood there, Frostï¿½s hand on Mistralï¿½s arm. Mistral was almost on his knees, from his slip, but they had frozen, staring at us. They hadnï¿½t just caught a whiff of tension. Their reaction said clearly that there was bad blood between Sholto and Doyle.

Doyle took my hand in his. The moment he touched me the tightness in my chest, which I hadnï¿½t even known was there, loosened.

He lifted me upward, off the other man. Sholtoï¿½s hands, all of his body, let me go with such reluctance. The sensation of him drawing out of deep within my body shivered through me. Only Doyleï¿½s grip kept my knees from buckling.

Sholto raised his arms to help catch me, his hands on my thighs. Doyle pulled me in against his body, half lifting me over Sholtoï¿½s body. Sholto let me go; otherwise it would have been like a tug-of-war, not seemly behavior for a king.

I stood there wrapped in Doyleï¿½s arms, staring up at his face, trying to decipher what he was thinking. Around me the tiny plants unfurled tiny leaves, and the world suddenly smelled of thyme, that sweet, green herb scent that Sholto had said he sensed when I was smelling roses. The delicate herbs tickled along my foot, as if reminding me that there were some things more important than love. Staring up into Doyleï¿½s face, I wasnï¿½t sure that was right. In that moment I wanted him happy. I wanted him to know that I wanted him happy. I wanted to explain that Sholto had been lovely, and the power had been immense, but that in the end, he meant nothing to me, not when I had Doyleï¿½s arms around me. But you canï¿½t say that out loud, not with the other man lying behind you.So many hearts to juggle, including my own.

The herbs touched me again, wound around my ankle. I glanced down at the greenery, and thought of my favorite thymes. My gran had grown them in the herb garden behind the house where my father raised meï¿½so many varieties.Lemon thyme, silver thyme, golden thyme. At that thought, the plants around my ankle were suddenly tinged with yellow. Some of the leaves on some of the plants turned silver, others became pale yellow, and some that bright sunny yellow. There was a scent of faint lemon on the air, as if I had crushed one of the pale yellow leaves between my fingertips.

ï¿½What did you do?ï¿½ Doyle whispered, his deep voice thrumming along my spine so that I shivered against him.

My voice was soft, as if I didnï¿½t want to say it too loudly: ï¿½I just thought that there is more than one kind of thyme.ï¿½

ï¿½And the plants changed,ï¿½ he said.

I nodded, staring at them. ï¿½I didnï¿½t say it out loud, Doyle. I only thought it.ï¿½

He hugged me. ï¿½I know.ï¿½

Mistral and Frost were with Rhys now. They did not approach us, and again I wasnï¿½t sure why. They waited, as if they needed permission to come closerï¿½the way they would have waited to approach Queen Andais.

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I thought it was me they waited on, but I should have known better. Sholto said behind me, ï¿½The sidhe do not usually stand on ceremony, but if you need permission, then I give it. Come closer.ï¿½

Mistral said, ï¿½If you could see yourself, King Sholto, you would not ask why we stand on ceremony.ï¿½

The comment made me look back at Sholto. He was sitting up, but where he had been lying was an outline of herbs. Peppermint, basilï¿½as I recognized them, I smelled their perfumes. But theherbs spreading out from where he had lain, where we had lain, wasnï¿½t what made the men stop. Sholto was wearing a crown; a crown of herbs. Even as we watched, the delicate plants wove like living fingers through his hair, creating a wreath of thyme and mint.Only the most delicate of the plants, entwining themselves as we watched. He raised a hand, and the moving plants touched his fingers as they had touched my ankle. I was wearing an anklet of living thyme, gold-flecked leaves, smelling of green life and lemons. The tendril wrapped around his fingers like a happy pet. He lowered his hand and stared at it. The plant wove itself into a ring as we watchedï¿½a ring that bloomed on his hand, the delicate spray of white blossoms more precious than any jewel. Then his crown burst into bloom, shades of white, blue,lavender . Finally, the blooms spread across the island, so that the ground was nearly solid with tiny, airy flowers, moving not in a breezeï¿½for there was noneï¿½but nodding as if the flowers were speaking to one another. ï¿½A crown of flowers is not a crown for the king of the sluagh!ï¿½ Agnes shouted, harsh, from the shore. She was on hands and knees, hidden completely under her black cloak. I saw the flash of her eyes, as if there was a glow to them; then she lowered her head, hiding from the light. She was a night-hag. They didnï¿½t travel at noon.

Ivar spoke, but I couldnï¿½t see him. ï¿½Sholto, King, we cannot approach you in this burning light.ï¿½

His uncles were half-goblinï¿½which, depending on the type of goblin, might make sunlight a problem. But they were also half-night-flyer, and that definitely made sunlight a problem. ï¿½I would that you could come to me, Uncles,ï¿½ Sholto said.

Doyleï¿½s arms tightened around me, a warning. ï¿½Be careful what you say, Sholto; you do not understand the power of the words of someone whom faerie itself has crowned.ï¿½

ï¿½I do not need advice from you, Darkness,ï¿½ Sholto said, and again there was bitterness in his voice. The sunlight faded, and a soft twilight began to fall. There was the sound of splashing,then Ivar and Fyfe came up upon the island. They were nude except for enough clothing to hold their weapons. They fell to one knee before him, heads bowed. ï¿½King Sholto,ï¿½ Ivar said, ï¿½we thank you for sending the light away.ï¿½

Sholto said, ï¿½I didnï¿½tï¿½ï¿½

ï¿½You are crowned by faerie,ï¿½ Doyle said again. ï¿½Your words, perhaps even your thoughts, will shape what will happen this night.ï¿½

I said, ï¿½I thoughtï¿½only thoughtï¿½that there is more than one variety of thyme, and it changed the herbs. What I thought about became real, Sholto.ï¿½

Agnes called from the shore, ï¿½You have freed us from the light, King Sholto. You have given us back theLostLake and theIslandofBones . Will you stop there, or will you give us back our power? Will you remake Page 98

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the sluagh while the magic of creation still burns through you, or will you hesitate and lose this chance to bring us back into ourselves?ï¿½

ï¿½The hag is right,Your Highness,ï¿½ Fyfe said. ï¿½You have brought us back the magic of making, wild magic,creation magic. Will you use it for us?ï¿½

In the dying light I watched Sholto lick his lips. ï¿½What would you have of me?ï¿½ he asked carefully. I heard in his voice what was beginning to be in my mind, a touch of fear. You could police your words, but policing your own thoughtsï¿½that was harder, so much harder.

ï¿½Call the wild magic,ï¿½ Ivar said.

ï¿½It is here already,ï¿½ Doyle said, ï¿½can you not feel it?ï¿½ His heart sped under my cheek. I wasnï¿½t sure I understood exactly what was happening, but Doyle seemed both frightened and excited. Even his body was beginning to react, pressed against the front of mine.

The two kneeling figures looked at Doyle. ï¿½Do not look to Darkness,ï¿½ Sholto said. ï¿½I am king here.ï¿½

They looked back at him, and bowed again. ï¿½You are our king,ï¿½ said Ivar. ï¿½But there are places we cannot follow you. If the wild magic is real again, then you have two choices, king of ours: You can remake us into a thing of flowered crowns and noonday suns, or you can call the old magic, and remake us into what we once were.ï¿½

ï¿½Darkness is right,ï¿½ Fyfe said. ï¿½I can feel it like a growing weight inside me. You can change us into what she wants us to beï¿½ï¿½he pointed at meï¿½ï¿½or you can give us back what we have lost.ï¿½

Sholto then asked something that made me think even better of him than I already did. ï¿½What would you have of me, Uncles, what would you have me do?ï¿½

They glanced first at him, then at each other, then carefully down at the ground again. ï¿½We want to be what we once were. We want to hunt as we once did. Give us back what has been lost, Sholto.ï¿½ Ivar held out his hand toward his king.

ï¿½Do not remake us in the sidhe bitchï¿½s image,ï¿½ Agnes yelled from the shore. It was a mistake. Sholto yelled back at her, ï¿½I am king here. I rule here. I thought you loved me once. But I know now that you only raised me to take the throne because you wished to sit upon it. You cannot rule, but you thought you could rule through me. You and your sisters thought to make me your puppet.ï¿½ He stood and screamed at her. ï¿½I am no oneï¿½s puppet. I am King Sholto of theSluagh, I am the Lord of That Which Passes Between, Lord of Shadows. Long have I been lonely among my own people. Long have I wanted some to look as Ido. ï¿½ He slammed a hand into his chest. It made a thick, meaty sound. ï¿½Now you tell me I have the power to do just that. You have envied the sidhe their smooth skin, their beauty that turns my head. So have what you envy.ï¿½

A wail came from Agnes, but it was too dark to see what was happening on the shore. She screamed, a horrible soundï¿½a sound of loss, and pain, as if whatever was happening to her hurt. I heard Sholto say, softly, ï¿½Agnes.ï¿½ The sound in that one word let me know that he wasnï¿½t so terribly certain of what he wanted, or what he had done.

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What had he done?

His uncles abased themselves, faces pressed to the herbs. ï¿½Please, King Sholto, we beg you, do not remake us into sidhe. Do not make us only lesser versions of the Unseelie. We are sluagh, and that is a proud thing. Would you strip us of all that we have kept over the years?ï¿½

ï¿½No,ï¿½ Sholto said, and there was no anger in his voice now. The screams from the shore had taken away his anger. He understood now how dangerous he was in this moment. ï¿½I want the sluagh to be powerful again. I want us to be a force to be reckoned with, negotiated with. I want us to be a fearsome thing.ï¿½

I spoke before I could think: ï¿½Not just fearsome, surely.ï¿½

ï¿½I want us to have a terrible beauty then,ï¿½ he said, and it was as if the world held its breath, as if the whole of faerie had been waiting for him to say those words. I felt it in the pit of my stomach like the chime of a great bell. It was a beautiful sound, but so large, so heavy, that it could crush you with the music of its voice. ï¿½What have you done?ï¿½ Doyle asked, and I wasnï¿½t sure whom he had asked it of. Sholto answered him. ï¿½What I had to do.ï¿½ He stood there, stark and pale in the growing dark. The tattoo of his tentacles glowed as if outlined with phosphorus. The flowers of his crown looked ghostly pale, and I thought they would have attracted honeybees, if it had not been dark. Bees are not nighttime creatures. The darkness began to lighten. ï¿½What did you just think of?ï¿½ Doyle asked. ï¿½That if the sunlight had remained, there would have been bees to feed on the flowers.ï¿½

ï¿½No, it will be night here,ï¿½ Sholto said, and the darkness began to thicken again. I tried for a more neutral thought. What could come to his flowers in the dark? Moths appeared among the flowers, small ones, ones to match the moth on my stomach. Small flashes of light showed above the island, as if jewels had been thrown into the air. Fireflies, dozens of them, so that they actually glowed enough to drive back some of the dark.

ï¿½Did you call them?ï¿½ Sholto said.

ï¿½Yes,ï¿½ I said.

ï¿½You raised the wild magic together,ï¿½ Ivar said.

ï¿½She is not sluagh,ï¿½ Fyfe said.

ï¿½But she is queen to his king for tonight; the magic is hers, as well,ï¿½ Ivar said. ï¿½Will you fight me for the heart of my people, Meredith?ï¿½ Sholto said. ï¿½I will try not to,ï¿½ I said softly.

ï¿½I rule here, Meredith, not you.ï¿½

ï¿½I do not want to take your throne, Sholto. But I canï¿½t help being what I am.ï¿½

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ï¿½What are you?ï¿½

ï¿½I am sidhe.ï¿½

ï¿½Then if you are sidhe and not sluagh, run.ï¿½

ï¿½What?ï¿½ I asked, trying to move a little away from Doyle and closer to Sholto. Doyle held me tight and wouldnï¿½t let me do it.

ï¿½Run,ï¿½ Sholto said again.

ï¿½Why?ï¿½ I asked.

ï¿½I am going to call the wild hunt, Meredith. If you are not sluagh, then you will be prey.ï¿½

ï¿½No, Sholto! Let us take the princess to safety first, I beg this of you,ï¿½ Doyle said urgently. ï¿½The Darkness does not usually beg. I am flattered, but if she can call back the sun to drive away the night, I must call the hunt now. She must be the prey. You know that.ï¿½

I was startled. Was this the same man who had refused to sacrifice me just moments ago? Who had looked on me with such tenderness? The magic was indeed working powerfully in him, to make this change. Rhysï¿½s voice came, cautious: ï¿½You wear a crown of flowers, King Sholto. Are you so certain that the wild hunt will recognize you as sluagh?ï¿½

ï¿½I am their king.ï¿½

ï¿½You look sidhe enough to be welcome in the queenï¿½s bed right now,ï¿½ Rhys said. Sholto touched his flat stomach with its healed flesh and tattoo. He hesitated,then shook his head. ï¿½I will call the wild magic. I will call the hunt.If they see me as prey and not as sluagh, then so be it.ï¿½ He smiled, and even in the uncertain light it didnï¿½t look particularly happy. He laughed, and the night echoed with it. There was the call of some sweet-voiced bird, sleepy from the distant shore. Sholto spoke again. ï¿½It is a long tradition among us, Lord Rhys, to slay our kings to bring back life to the land. If by my life, or my death, I can bring my people back to their power, I will do it.ï¿½

ï¿½Sholto,ï¿½ I said, ï¿½donï¿½t. Donï¿½t say that.ï¿½

ï¿½It is done,ï¿½ he said.

Doyle started moving us toward the other side of the island. ï¿½Short of killing him, we cannot stop him,ï¿½

he told me. ï¿½You both reek of the oldest of magicks. I am not certain that he can be killed right now.ï¿½

ï¿½We need to leave then,ï¿½ Rhys said.

Abeloec was finally pulling himself up on the shore. He still had his cup in his hand, and it seemed as if the weight of it had kept him from coming sooner. ï¿½Donï¿½t tell me I have to get back in the lake,ï¿½ he said. ï¿½If sheï¿½s touched with the magic of creation, let her create a bridge.ï¿½

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I didnï¿½t wait. I said, ï¿½I want a bridge to the shore.ï¿½ A graceful white bridge appeared, just like that. ï¿½Cool,ï¿½ Rhys said. ï¿½Letï¿½s go.ï¿½

Sholto spoke in a ringing voice. ï¿½I call the wild hunt, by Herne and huntsman, by horn and hound, by wind and storm, and wreck of winter, I call us home.ï¿½

The dark near the roof of the cavern split open as if someone had cut it with a knife. It split open and things boiled out of it.

Doyle turned my face away and said, ï¿½Do not look back.ï¿½ He began to run, dragging me with him. We all began to run. Only Sholto and his uncles stayed on the island as the night itself ripped open and poured nightmares behind us.

ï¿½

CHAPTER 17

WE MADE THE FAR SHORE, BUT I TRIPPED ON A SKELETONburied in the ground. Doyle picked me up and kept running. Gunshots echoed, and I saw Frost firing at Agnes as she threw herself on top of him. I had a glimpse of her face; something was wrong with it, as if her bones were sliding around under her skin. I screamed, ï¿½Frost,ï¿½ as a glint of metal showed in her hand. More shots sounded. Mistral was beside Frost, blades flashing.

ï¿½Doyle, stop!ï¿½ I shouted.

He ignored me, and kept running with me in his arms. Abe and Rhys were with him. ï¿½We canï¿½t leave Frost behind!ï¿½ I said.

Doyle said, ï¿½We cannot risk you, not for anyone.ï¿½

ï¿½Call a door,ï¿½ Abe said.

Doyle glanced behind us, but not at Mistral and Frostï¿½s fight with the night-hag. He glanced higher than that. It made me look up, too.

At first my eyes perceived clouds, black and grey rolling clouds, or smokeï¿½but that was only my mind trying to make sense of it. I thought I had seen all the sluagh had to offer, but I was wrong. What was pouring down toward the island where Sholto stood was nothing my mind couldaccept. When I worked for the investigative agencyï¿½sometimes at a crime sceneï¿½if itï¿½s bad enoughï¿½sometimes your mind refuses to make an image out of it. Itï¿½s just a jumble. Your mind gives you a moment to not see this horrible thing. If you have the chance to close your eyes and not look a second time, you can save yourself. This horror will not go into your mind and stain your soul. At most crime scenes I didnï¿½t have the choice of not seeing. But this; I looked away. If we didnï¿½t get away, then Iï¿½d have to look. We had to get away.

Doyle yelled, ï¿½Donï¿½t look. Call the door.ï¿½

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I did what he asked. ï¿½I need a door to the Unseelie sithen.ï¿½ The door appeared, hanging in the middle of nowhere, just like before.

ï¿½No doors,ï¿½ Sholto screamed behind us.

The door vanished.

Rhys cursed.

Frost and Mistral were with us now. There was blood on their swords. I glanced back at the shore, and saw Agnesï¿½a dark, still shape on the ground.

Doyle started running again, and the others joined us. ï¿½Call something else,ï¿½ Abe said, near breathless trying to keep up with Doyleï¿½s pace. ï¿½And do it quietly, so Sholto canï¿½t hear what youï¿½re doing.ï¿½

ï¿½What?ï¿½ I asked.

ï¿½You have the power of creation,ï¿½ he panted. ï¿½Use it.ï¿½

ï¿½How?ï¿½My brain wasnï¿½t working under the pressure.

ï¿½Conjure something,ï¿½ he said, and stumbled, falling. He rejoined us, blood pouring down his chest from a new cut.

ï¿½Let the ground be grass and gentle to our feet.ï¿½ Grass flowed at our feet like green water. It didnï¿½t spread over everything like the herbs on the island. The grass sprang up in a path where we ran, and nowhere else.

ï¿½Try something else,ï¿½ Rhys said from the other side of us. He was shorter than the rest, and his voice showed the strain of keeping up with the longer legs of the others. What could I call from the ground, from the grass, that could save us? I thought it and had my answer; one of the most magical of plants. ï¿½Give me a field of four-leaf clover.ï¿½ The grass spread out before us wide and smooth, then white clover began to grow through the grass, until we stood in the center of a field of it. White globes of sweet-smelling flowers burst like stars across all the green. Doyle slowed, and the others slowed with him. Rhys said it out loud: ï¿½Not bad, not bad at all. You think well in a crisis.ï¿½

ï¿½The wild hunt is of ill intent,ï¿½ Frost said. ï¿½They should be stopped at the fieldï¿½s edge.ï¿½

Doyle sat me down amid the ankle-high clover. The plants brushed against me as if they were little hands. ï¿½Four-leaf clover is the most powerful plant protection from faerie,ï¿½ I said. ï¿½Aye,ï¿½ Abe said, ï¿½but some of what is coming does not have to walk, Princess.ï¿½

ï¿½Make us a roof, Meredith,ï¿½ Doyle said.

ï¿½A roof of what?ï¿½

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ï¿½Rowan, thorn, and ash,ï¿½ Frost said.

ï¿½Of course,ï¿½ I said. Anywhere that the three trees grew together was a magical placeï¿½a place both of protection and of a weakening in the reality between worlds. Such a place would save you from faerie, or call faerie to youï¿½like so many things with us, there was never a yes, or no, but a yes, a no, and a sometimes. The earth underneath us trembled as if an earthquake were coming; then the trees blasted out of the ground, showering rock and dirt and clover over us. The trees stretched to the sky with a sound like a storm or a train, barreling down, but with a scream of wood to it. It was like nothing Iï¿½d ever heard before. While the trees knit themselves together above our heads, I looked back. I could not help it. Sholto was covered in the nightmares he had called. Tentacles writhed; bits and pieces that I had no word for flowed and struck. There were teeth everywhere, as if wind could be made solid and given fangs to tear and destroy. Sholtoï¿½s uncles attacked the creatures with blade and muscle, but they were losing. Losing, but fighting hard enough that they had given us time to make our sanctuary. Frost moved to stand so that his broad chest blocked my view. ï¿½It is not good to gaze too long upon them.ï¿½ There was a bloody furrow down one side of his face, as if Agnes had tried to claw his eyes out. I made as if to touch the wound, and he pulled away, catching my hand in his. ï¿½I will heal.ï¿½

He didnï¿½t want me to fuss over him in front of Mistral. If it had just been Doyle and Rhys, he might have allowed it. But he would not have Mistral see him weak. I wasnï¿½t sure how he felt about Abe, but I knew he viewed Mistral as a threat. Men donï¿½t like to look weak in front of their rivals. Whatever I thought ofMistral, that was how Frost and Doyle saw him.

I took Frostï¿½s hand and tried not to act concerned about his wounds. ï¿½He called the hunt. Why are they attacking him?ï¿½ I asked.

ï¿½I warned him that he looked too sidhe,ï¿½ Rhys said. ï¿½I wasnï¿½t saying that just to stop him from doing something dangerous to us.ï¿½

Something warm dripped over my hand. I looked down to find Frostï¿½s blood painting my skin. I fought the spurt of panic and asked calmly, ï¿½How badly are you hurt?ï¿½ The blood was coming steadilyï¿½not good. ï¿½I will heal,ï¿½ Frostsaid, voice tight.

The trees closed overhead with a sound like the ocean waves rushing along a shore. Leaves tore and rained down on us as the branches wove a shield of leaves, thorns, and bright red berries above. The shadow it cast made Frostï¿½s skin look grey for a moment, and it frightened me. ï¿½You heal gunshot wounds if the bullet goes through and through. You heal nonmagical blades. But Black Agnes was a night-hag and once a goddess. Is your wound of blade, or claw?ï¿½

Frost tried to take his hand back, but I wouldnï¿½t let him. Unless he wanted to beappear undignified, he couldnï¿½t break free. Our hands were covered in his blood, sticky and warm. Doyle was at Frostï¿½s side. ï¿½How badly are you hurt?ï¿½

ï¿½We do not have time to tend my wounds,ï¿½ Frost said. He wouldnï¿½t look at Doyle, or any of us. He arranged his face in that arrogant mask, the one that made him impossibly handsome, and as cold as his namesake. But the terrible wounds on the right side of that face ruined the mask. It was like a chink in armor; Page 104

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he could not hide behind it.

ï¿½Nor do we have time to lose my strong right arm,ï¿½ Doyle said, ï¿½not if there is time to save it.ï¿½

Frost looked at him, surprise showing through the mask. I wondered if Doyle had never, in all these long years, called Frost the strong right arm of the Darkness. The look on his face suggested so. And maybe it was as close as Doyle would come to apologizing for abandoning him to the fight with Agnes in order to save me. Had Frost thought Doyle left him behind on purpose?

A world of emotion seemed to pass between the two men. If theyï¿½d been human men, they might have exchanged some profanity or sports metaphor, which iswhat seems to pass for terms of deepest affection between friends. But they were who they were, and Doyle said, simply, ï¿½Remove enough weapons so we can see the wound.ï¿½ He smiled when he said it, because of all the guards Frost would be the one carrying the most weapons, with Mistral a distant second.

ï¿½Whatever youï¿½re going to do,do it fast,ï¿½ Rhys said.

We all looked at him, and then beyond him. The air boiled black, grey, white, and horrible. The hunt was coming toward us like a ribbon of nightmares. It took my eyes a moment to find Sholto on the island. He was a small, pale figure runningï¿½running full outï¿½with that sidhe swiftness. But fast as he was, he wouldnï¿½t be fast enoughï¿½what chased him moved with the swiftness of birds, of wind, of water. It was like trying to outrun the wind; you just couldnï¿½t do it.

Doyle turned back to Frost. ï¿½Take off your jacket. Iï¿½ll make a compress. Weï¿½re not going to have time for more.ï¿½

I glanced back toward the island. Sholtoï¿½s guards, his uncles, tried to buy him time. They offered themselves as a sacrifice to slow the hunt. It worked, for a while. Some of that fearful boil of shapes slowed and covered them. I think I heard one of them scream over the high bird-like chittering of the creatures. But most of the wild hunt stayed on target. That target was Sholto. He crossed the bridge and kept running. ï¿½Goddesshelp us,ï¿½ Rhys said, ï¿½heï¿½s coming here.ï¿½

ï¿½He finally understands what heï¿½s called into being,ï¿½ Mistral said. ï¿½He runs in terror now. He runs to the only sanctuary he can see.ï¿½

ï¿½We stand in the middle of four-leaf clovers, rowan, ash, and thorn. The wild hunt cannot touch us here,ï¿½

I said, but my voice was soft, and didnï¿½t hold the certainty I wished it had. Doyle had ripped Frostï¿½s shirt away and torn Frostï¿½s own jacket into pieces small enough to be used as compresses.

ï¿½How bad is it?ï¿½ I asked.

Doyle shook his head, pressing the cloth in an area that seemed to run under Frostï¿½s arm and into his shoulder. ï¿½Get us out of here, Meredith. I will tend Frost. But only you can get us out.ï¿½

ï¿½The wild hunt will pass us by,ï¿½ I said. ï¿½We stand in the middle of things that they cannot pass through.ï¿½

ï¿½If we were not its prey, then I would agree,ï¿½ Doyle said. He was trying to get Frost to lie down on the Page 105

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clover, but the other man was arguing. Doyle pressed harder on the wound, which made Frost draw a sharp breath. He continued, ï¿½But Sholto told us to run, if we were sidhe. He has conjured it to hunt us.ï¿½

I started to turn away, but couldnï¿½t quite tear my eyes from Frost. Once he had been the Killing Frost: cold, frightening, arrogant, untouched, and untouchable. Now he was Frost, and he wasnï¿½t frightening, or cold, and I knew the touch of his body in almost every possible way. I wanted to go to him, to hold his hand while Doyle tended his wound.

ï¿½Merry,ï¿½ Doyle said, ï¿½if you do not get us out of here, Frost will not be the only one hurt.ï¿½

I caught Frostï¿½s gaze. Pain, I saw there, but also something hopeful, or good. I think he liked that I was so worried about him. ï¿½Get us out, Merry,ï¿½ Frost said between gritted teeth. ï¿½I am fine.ï¿½

I didnï¿½t call him a liar, but I did turn away so I couldnï¿½t watch. It would have distracted me too much, and I didnï¿½t have time to be weak.

ï¿½I need a door to theUnseelie Court .ï¿½ I said it clearly, but nothing happened. ï¿½Try again,ï¿½ Rhys said.

I tried again, and again nothing happened.

ï¿½Sholto saidNo doors, ï¿½ Mistral said. ï¿½Apparently his word stands.ï¿½

Sholtoï¿½s feet had touched the edge of the field Iï¿½d made. He was only yards away from the first of the clover. The air above him was thick with tentacles and mouths and claws. I looked away from it, because I couldnï¿½t think while I was staring into it.

ï¿½Call something else,ï¿½ Abe said.

ï¿½What?ï¿½ I asked.

It was Rhys who said, ï¿½Where rowan, ash, and thorn grow close together, the veil between worlds is thinner.ï¿½

I looked up at the circle of trees that Iï¿½d called into being. Their branches had formed a lace of roof above us. They still hushed and moved above us the way the roses in theUnseelie Court moved, as if they had more life than an ordinary tree.

I began to walk the inside of the circle of trees, searching not with my hands, but with that part of me that sensed magic. Most human psychics have to do something to get themselves in the mood for magic, but I had to shield constantly not to be overwhelmed by it. Especially in faerieï¿½there was so much of it that it became like the engine noise of some great ship, and you ceased to ï¿½hearï¿½ it after a while, though it was always there thrumming along your skin, making your bones vibrate to its rhythm. I reached out from behind those shields and searched for a place in the trees that feltï¿½thin. I couldnï¿½t look simply for magic; there was too much of it around me.Too much power flowing toward us. I needed to cast out for something more specific.

ï¿½The clover has slowed them,ï¿½ Mistral called.

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This made me glance back, away from the trees. The cloud of nightmares rolled above the clover like a pack of hounds that had lost the scent.

Sholto just kept running, his hair flying behind him, the nude beauty of him beautiful in motion, like watching a horse run across a field. It was a beauty that transcended sex; simply beautiful for its own sake. ï¿½Concentrate, Merry,ï¿½ Rhys said. ï¿½Iï¿½ll help you look for a door.ï¿½

I nodded and went back to looking only at the trees. They thrummed with power, inherently magical and invested with further power because they had been called into being by one of the oldest magicks. Rhys called from across the clearing. ï¿½Here!ï¿½

I ran to him, the clover tapping at my legs and feet as if patting me with soft green hands. I passed Frost on the ground, where Doyle sat holding his wound. Frost was hurt, very hurt, but there was no time to helpï¿½Doyle would take care of him. I had to take care of us all.

Rhys was standing by a group of three of the trees that looked no different from the others, really. But when I put my hand out toward them, it was as if reality had been rubbed thin here, like a good-luck penny rubbed in your pocket.

ï¿½You feel it?ï¿½ Rhys asked.

I nodded. ï¿½How do we open it?ï¿½

ï¿½You just walk through,ï¿½ Rhys said. He looked back at the others. ï¿½Everybody gather around. We need to walk through together.ï¿½

ï¿½Why?ï¿½ I asked.

He grinned at me.ï¿½Because naturally occurring doorways like this donï¿½t lead to the same place every time. Itï¿½d be bad if we were separated.ï¿½

ï¿½Badï¿½s one way of putting it,ï¿½ I said.

Doyle had to help Frost to his feet. Even so, he stumbled. Abe came and offered his shoulder to lean on, still grasping the horn cup in one hand, as if it was the most important thing in the world. It occurred to me then that the Goddessï¿½s chalice had gone back to wherever it went when it wasnï¿½t mucking about with me. I had never held on to it the way Abe did with his, but then, I had been afraid of its power. Abe wasnï¿½t afraid of his cupï¿½s power; he was afraid of losing it again.

Mistral was backing toward us. ï¿½Are we waiting for the Lord of Shadows or leaving him to his fate?ï¿½

It took me a second to realize he meant Sholto. I looked toward the lake. Sholto was almost here, almost to the tree line. The sky behind him was totally black, as if the father of all storms was about to break, except that instead of lightning there were tentacles, and mouths that shrieked. ï¿½He can escape the same way,ï¿½ Rhys said. ï¿½The door wonï¿½t close behind us.ï¿½

I looked at him. ï¿½Donï¿½t we want it to?ï¿½

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ï¿½I donï¿½t know if we can close it, but if we can, Merry, he would be trapped.ï¿½ There was a very serious look in his one eyeï¿½a measuring look. It was the look that I was beginning to dread from all the men. A look that said:The decision is yours.

Could I leave Sholto to die? He had called the wild hunt. Heï¿½d offered himself as prey. Heï¿½d trapped us here with hisno doors. Did I owe him?

I looked at what chased him. ï¿½I couldnï¿½t leave anyone to that.ï¿½

ï¿½So be it,ï¿½ Doyle said from beside me.

ï¿½But we can go through ahead of him,ï¿½ Mistral said. ï¿½We donï¿½t have to wait.ï¿½

ï¿½Youï¿½re sure heï¿½ll sense the door?ï¿½ I asked.

Everyone answered at once. Mistral said, ï¿½Yes.ï¿½ Rhys said, ï¿½Probably.ï¿½ Doyle and Frost said, ï¿½I do not know.ï¿½ Abe just shrugged.

I shook my head and whispered, ï¿½Goddessguide me, but I canï¿½t leave him. I can still taste his skin on my mouth.ï¿½ I stepped in front of the men, closer to the farther edge of the trees. I yelled, ï¿½Sholto, weï¿½re leaving, hurry, hurry!ï¿½

He stumbled, fell in the clover, and rolled to his feet again in a blur of motion. He dived through the trees, and I thought heï¿½d made it, but something long and white whipped around his ankle just before it cleared the magical circle. It caught him in that instant when his body was airborne, not touching the clover, not inside the trees. The tentacle tried to lift him skyward, but his hands reached desperately for the trees. He caught a limb with his hands, and he was left suspended, feet above the ground. I was running forward before I had time to think. I donï¿½t know what I planned to do when I got there, but I didnï¿½t have to worry, because a blur of movement rushed past me. Mistral and Doyle were there before me. Doyle had Frostï¿½s sword in his hands. He leapt into the air in an impossibly graceful arc, and cut the tentacle in two. I smelled ozone a second before lightning crashed from Mistralï¿½s hand. The lightning hit the cloud and seemed to bounce from one creature to another, illuminating them. It was too much light. I screamed and covered my eyes, but it was as if the images were carved inside my lids. Strong hands were on mine, pulling my hands away from my eyes. I kept my eyes tight shut, and Doyleï¿½s deep voice came. ï¿½Clawing your eyes out wonï¿½t help, Meredith. Itï¿½s inside you now. You canï¿½t unsee it.ï¿½

I opened my mouth and screamed. I screamed and screamed and screamed. Doyle picked me up in his arms and started running toward the others. I knew Mistral and Sholto were behind us. Whimpers replaced my screamsï¿½I have no words for what Iï¿½d seen. They were things that should not have been. Things that could not have been alive, but they had moved. I had seen them. If I had been alone, I would have fallen to the ground and shrieked until the wild hunt caught me. Instead I clung to Doyle and buried my nose and mouth against the curve of his neck, keeping my eyes fixed on the clover, and the trees, and my men. I wanted to replace the images that were burned inside meï¿½it was as if I had to clean my eyes of the sight of the hunt. I breathed in the scent of Doyleï¿½s neck, his hair, and it helped calm me. He was real, and solid, and I was safe in his arms.

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Rhys moved to help Abe with Frost. Doyle still had Frostï¿½s sword naked and bloody in his hand, held away from me. The blood smelled the way all blood smells: red, slightly metallic, sweet. If these creatures bled real blood, then they couldnï¿½t be what I had seen; they werenï¿½t nightmares. What I had seen in that lightning-kissed moment was nothing that would ever bleed real blood. Doyle told Mistral to enter first, because we didnï¿½t know where the doorway led. The Storm Lord didnï¿½t argue,he just did what he was told. All of us, including Sholto, followed his broad back between the trees. One moment we were in the clover circle; the next we were in moonlight, at the edge of a snowbanked parking lot. ï¿½

CHAPTER 18

THERE WAS A MARKED CAR AND SEVERAL UNMARKED CARS SITTINGthere. Inside, cops and FBI stared at us, eyes wide. We had simply appeared out of thin air; I guess it was worth a stare or two. ï¿½How are we going to explain this?ï¿½ Rhys asked softly.

The car doors started opening. Police of all flavors poured out into the cold. Then there was wind at our backsï¿½warm wind, and a sound like birds, if birds could be too large, and too frightening for words. ï¿½Oh, God,ï¿½ Rhys said, ï¿½theyï¿½re coming through.ï¿½

ï¿½Mistral, Sholto, hold the door closed if you can. Give us time,ï¿½ Doyle said. Mistral and Sholto turned to face that warm, seeking wind. Doyle ran toward the cars; I was still in his arms. The others followed, though Frostï¿½s wounds caused him to follow slowly behind us. The police were calling to us. ï¿½Whatï¿½s wrong?ï¿½ ï¿½Is the princess hurt?ï¿½

ï¿½Stay in your cars and youï¿½ll be safe,ï¿½ Doyle yelled.

The closest car held two dark-suited men. One was young and dark, the other older and balding. ï¿½Charles, FBI,ï¿½ the younger one said. ï¿½You donï¿½t give us orders.ï¿½

ï¿½If the princess is in danger, I can, by your own laws,ï¿½ said Doyle. The older one said, ï¿½Special Agent Bancroft, whatï¿½s happening? Thatï¿½s not geese Iï¿½m hearing.ï¿½

A uniform that wasSt. Louis city, oneIllinois state trooper, and a local precinct cop joined us. Apparently, when the rest of the police went away after weï¿½d last dealt with them here, theyï¿½d left a little bit of everybody behind. No one wanted to be left out, I guess.

ï¿½If you all stay in your cars, you will be safe,ï¿½ Doyle repeated. One of the younger uniforms said, ï¿½Weï¿½re cops. Weï¿½re not paid to be safe.ï¿½

ï¿½Spoken like someone who is not even close to his pension,ï¿½ another officer said, one with more weight around his middle.

ï¿½Jesus,ï¿½ one of them said. I didnï¿½t have to glance back, for now Frost had caught up with us. Heï¿½d Page 109

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bled all over Rhys, so that it looked like Rhys was hurt worse. Abe was still bleeding from falling among the bones.

One of the uniforms touched his shoulder radio and started requesting an ambulance. Doyle yelled above the growing sound of wind and birds, ï¿½There is no time. They will be upon us in moments.ï¿½

ï¿½Who?ï¿½Bancroft asked.

Doyle shook his head and moved around the agent. He laid me in the passenger seat of the car,then opened the backseat door, saying, ï¿½Put Frost inside, Rhys.ï¿½

ï¿½I will not leave you,ï¿½ Frost said. The men laid him in the seat even as he protested. Doyle grabbed Frostï¿½s shoulder and said, ï¿½If I die, if all of us die, if the others are gone into the ground for good, then you must survive. You must take her back toLos Angeles and not return.ï¿½

I started to get out of the car then. ï¿½I wonï¿½t leave you.ï¿½

Doyle pushed me back into the seat. He knelt down and gave me the full weight of his dark eyes. ï¿½Meredith, Merry, we cannot win this fight. Unless help arrives, we will all die. You have never seen this wild hunt, but I have. We will give them sidhe to hunt, and they will ignore this car. You and Frost will be safe.ï¿½

I gripped his arms, so smooth, so muscled,so solid. ï¿½I wonï¿½t leave you.ï¿½

ï¿½Nor I,ï¿½ Frost said, struggling to sit up in the backseat. ï¿½Frost,ï¿½ Doyle almost yelled it, ï¿½I do not trust anyone but you and me to keep her safe. If it is not to be me, then it must be you.ï¿½

Bancroft said, ï¿½Get in and drive, Charlie.ï¿½

The younger agent didnï¿½t argue this time; he got behind the wheel. I was still holding on to Doyle, shaking my head over and over. One of the other cops had gotten a first-aid kit out of the car. Bancroft took it and crawled into the back with Frost.

ï¿½No,ï¿½ I said to Doyle. ï¿½I am princess here, not you.ï¿½

ï¿½Your duty is to live,ï¿½ Doyle said.

I shook my head. ï¿½If you die, Iï¿½m not sure I want to.ï¿½

He kissed me then, hard and fierce. I tried to melt into that kiss, but he tore himself away and slammed the door in my face.

The doors locked. I glanced at the agent, who said, ï¿½We have to get you to safety, Princess.ï¿½

ï¿½Unlock the door,ï¿½ I demanded.

He ignored me and started the engine, hit the gas. Just then wind slammed into the car, so hard that itskidded the vehicle to the side. Charlie fought to keep the car in the parking lot and out of the trees. Page 110

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ï¿½Drive,ï¿½ Bancroft yelled, ï¿½drive like a son of a bitch!ï¿½

I looked then, because I had to. The wild hunt had broken through, and it was like the moment in the caveï¿½as if the darkness had split open and was spilling out nightmares. But the nightmares were even more solid now. Or maybe, now that Iï¿½d seen them, I couldnï¿½t unsee them. A coat flew over my face, and I was left scrambling at it. ï¿½Donï¿½t look, Merry,ï¿½ Frost said, his voice choked, ï¿½donï¿½t look.ï¿½

ï¿½Put on the coat, Princess,ï¿½ Bancroft said. ï¿½Weï¿½ll get you to the hospital.ï¿½

I held the coat in my arms, but turned to look back.

The police were shooting at the hunt. Mistral lit the sky with lightning, and one of the police crumbled to the ground. Was he screaming? The horror spilled over Sholto, and he was lost to it. Doyle leapt toward the tentacles and teeth, the sword glittering in the moonlight. I screamed his name, but the last thing I saw before we drove into the dark was Doyle lost under a weight of nightmares. ï¿½

CHAPTER 19

FROSTï¿½S HAND GRABBED MY SHOULDER, PRESSING ME AGAINSTthe seat. ï¿½Merry, please, donï¿½t make Doyleï¿½s sacrifice in vain.ï¿½

I touched his hand, pressed it against me, and there was more blood on it. ï¿½How can I let them drive us to safety and not fight it?ï¿½

ï¿½You must. I am too hurt to help, and you are too fragile. I would willingly die with them, but you must not die.ï¿½

Agent Charlie had us on the narrow road, driving a little too fast for the darkness and the snow. He hit ice and skidded.

ï¿½Slow down or youï¿½re going to put us in a ditch,ï¿½ Bancroft said. ï¿½And you, Frost, right, you need to lie back and let me finish putting pressure on this wound. You bleed to death and you canï¿½t keep the princess safe.ï¿½

ï¿½Did you see it?ï¿½ Charlie said as he slowed down. ï¿½Did you see it?ï¿½

ï¿½I saw it,ï¿½ Bancroft said in a strained voice. He pulled on Frost. ï¿½Let me take care of the wound like your captain ordered.ï¿½

Frost let go of me, slowly, his hand pulling away. I started drawing the trench coat over me. I didnï¿½t know whose coat it was, but I was cold. Cold in a way that the coat wouldnï¿½t help, yet it was all I had. Agent Charlie slowed at a sharp turn, and I caught a glimpse of something in the trees. It wasnï¿½t the wild hunt, and it wasnï¿½t our men.

ï¿½Stop,ï¿½ I said.

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He slowed further, almost stopped. ï¿½What? What is it?ï¿½

I saw them in the trees: goblins. Goblins walking in single file, cloaked for the cold, bristling with weapons in the cold light of the moon. They were walking away from the fight, though some of them glanced back. That was enough to tell me they knew what was happening, and they were leaving my men to die. ï¿½Drive,ï¿½ Bancroft said.

ï¿½Stop,ï¿½ I ordered.

Agent Charlie ignored me. The car picked up speed.

ï¿½Stop,ï¿½ I repeated. ï¿½There are goblins out there. They can tip the balance. They can save my men.ï¿½

ï¿½Weï¿½re doing what your guard demanded,ï¿½ Bancroft said. ï¿½Weï¿½re going to a hospital.ï¿½

I had to stop the car. I had to talk to the goblinsï¿½they were my allies. They had to help, if I asked it, or be forsworn.

I reached over, touched the agentï¿½s face, and thought about sex. Iï¿½d never done this to a human before, never used that part of my heritage for evil. And it was evilï¿½I didnï¿½t know him, didnï¿½t want him, but I made him want me.

The agent slammed on the brakes, throwing me into the dash, and throwing the men in the back into the floorboards. Bancroft yelled, ï¿½What the hell are you doing?ï¿½

Agent Charlie threw the car into park, skewing halfway across the road. He unbuckled his seat belt, pulled me toward him, and started trying to kiss me, his hands everywhere. I didnï¿½t care, as long as the car was stopped.

Bancroft came over the seat.ï¿½Charlie, for Godï¿½s sake, Charlie.Stop!ï¿½

I took advantage of the fight to reach across and unlock the door while the men fought almost on top of me. I opened the door and fell backward into the road. Charlie tried to crawl after me. Bancroft slid over the seat and on top of his partner.

I got to my feet on the icy road, huddling under the coat.

The goblins were there in the dark, just outside the headlight beams. Two faces looked at me, two nearly identical faces: Ash and Holly. The wind blew their yellow hair from their hoods. I couldnï¿½t tell which twin was which in the uncertain lightï¿½the only difference was eye color. ï¿½Hail, goblins,ï¿½ I called.

One of them touched the other and nodded toward the dark. They began to turn and leave. I yelled, ï¿½I call on you as allies. To deny me is to be forsworn. The wild hunt is abroad, and oathbreakers are sweet meat to them.ï¿½

The twins turned back to us, and the goblinswho were only dark shapes behind them shifted in the dimness. ï¿½We did not make this oath,ï¿½ one of them called.

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ï¿½Kurag, Goblin King, did, and you are his people. Do you call your king a liar? Are you king now among the goblins, Holly?ï¿½

I had taken a chance on that. I wasnï¿½t certain which brother it was, but Iï¿½d guessed based on the fact that Holly had the worse attitude of the two. He bowed his head in acknowledgment. ï¿½The princess sees well in the dark.ï¿½

ï¿½She merely has good ears,ï¿½ his brother said. ï¿½You complain more.ï¿½

Ash started down the side of the road, ignoring my plea, and some of the others followed. Most stayed in the shadows along the roadï¿½s edge. There had to be nearly twenty of them. It was enough to make a difference, enough, maybe, to saveï¿½my men.

I heard a car door open behind me. Frost crawled out and fell into the snow and ice of the road. I went to him but kept my gaze on the goblins.

ï¿½This is not our fight,ï¿½ Holly said.

ï¿½I need your help as my allies; that makes it your fight,ï¿½ I said. ï¿½Or have the goblins lost their taste for battle?ï¿½

ï¿½You do not battle the wild hunt, Princess. You run from it, you join it, you hide from it. But you donï¿½t fight it,ï¿½ Ash said. I could see his green eyes now. His hood framed a face as handsome as any at theUnseelie Court , golden-haired; only the pure, pupil-less green of his eyes and a bulkier body under the cloak betrayed his mixed heritage.

ï¿½Will you be forsworn?ï¿½ I asked. I clung to Frostï¿½s hand in the snow. ï¿½No,ï¿½ Ash said. But he was not happy about it.

ï¿½We came out to see what the fuss was,ï¿½ one of the other goblins said, ï¿½not get ourselves killed for a bunch of sidhe.ï¿½ The goblin was almost twice as broad as any sidhe. He turned into the light a face that was covered in hard, round bumps. ï¿½Get a good look, Princess.ï¿½ He threw back his cloak so I could see more of him. His arms were as covered as his face in bumps and growths, marks of beauty among the goblins. But these bumps were pastel colorsï¿½pink, lavender, mint greenï¿½not a skin tone that the goblins could boast. ï¿½Thatï¿½s right, Iï¿½m half sidhe,ï¿½ he said. ï¿½Just like them, but Iï¿½m not so pretty, am I?ï¿½

ï¿½By goblin standards you are the more handsome,ï¿½ I said.

He blinked eyes that bulged slightly from his face. ï¿½But you donï¿½t judge by goblin standards, do you, Princess?ï¿½

ï¿½I ask as your ally for your aid. I ask as a blood-oathed ally to your king that the goblins aid me. Call Kurag and summon more goblins.ï¿½

ï¿½Why donï¿½t you call the sidhe?ï¿½ the bumpy goblin asked.

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ï¿½Are you saying that a goblin is a lesser warrior than a sidhe?ï¿½ I asked, avoiding the question. ï¿½No one is a greater warrior than the goblins,ï¿½ he said.

Ash said, ï¿½You donï¿½t know if the sidhe will come.ï¿½

I was out of time to prevaricate further. ï¿½No, I donï¿½t,ï¿½ I admitted. ï¿½Aid me, Ash, help me, as my ally,help us.ï¿½

ï¿½Beg,ï¿½ Holly said, ï¿½beg for our aid.ï¿½

ï¿½The goblins seek to delay,ï¿½ Frost said, voice hoarse, ï¿½they seek to delay until the fight is over.Cowards!ï¿½

I gazed up at the three tall goblins, and the others waiting in the shadows. I did the only thing I could think of. I searched Frost until I found a gun. I pulled it free of the holster and got to my feet. Bancroft had finally handcuffed his partner to the steering wheel, though Agent Charlie was still trying to get free and get to me. Bancroft joined us in the snow. ï¿½What are you going to do, Princess?ï¿½

ï¿½Iï¿½m going to go back and fight.ï¿½ I hoped that in the face of my determination, the goblins could do naught but join.

ï¿½No,ï¿½ Bancroft said, and started to reach across Frost toward me. I pointed the gun at him and clicked off the safety. ï¿½I have no quarrel with you, Agent Bancroft.ï¿½

He had gone very still. ï¿½Glad to hear it. Now give me the gun.ï¿½

I started to back away from him. ï¿½Iï¿½m going back to help my men.ï¿½

ï¿½Sheï¿½s bluffing,ï¿½ the warty goblin said.

ï¿½No,ï¿½ Frost said, ï¿½sheï¿½s not.ï¿½ He struggled to his feet,then fell back into the snow. ï¿½Merry!ï¿½

ï¿½Bancroft, get him to the hospital.ï¿½ I aimed the gun skyward and started running back the way weï¿½d come. I tried to think of summerï¿½s heat. Tried to bring the idea of warmth to my shields, but all I could feel was the ice under my feet. If I was human enough to get frostbite, Iï¿½d lose feeling soon. Ash and Holly came up beside me, one on either side. They loped along while I ran my fastest. They could have outdistanced me and gotten to the fight sooner, but theyï¿½d only obey the letter of our agreement. If I fought and asked for help, then they had to help me, but they didnï¿½t have to get to the fight one second before I did.

I prayed, ï¿½Goddess, help me and my allies to arrive in time to save my people.ï¿½ I felt someone pounding up behind us, but did not glance backï¿½it was just one of the larger goblins. Then hands, silver-grey in the moonlight.Before I knew it I was cradled against a chest almost as wide as I was tall. Jonty, the Red Cap, was ten feet of goblin muscle. He glanced down at me with eyes that in good Page 114

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light would be as red as if he looked at the world through a spill of fresh blood. His eyes were a match for Hollyï¿½s. It had made me wonder if the goblin half of the twins was a Red Cap. The blood that dripped continuously from the cap on his head shone in the light. Little drops of it were flung behind him as he picked up speed and raced toward the fight. The Red Caps had earned their name by dipping their caps in the blood of enemies. Once, to be warlord among them you had to have enough magic to keep the blood dripping indefinitely. Jonty was the only Red Cap Iï¿½d ever met who could do the trick, though he wasnï¿½t a warlord, because the Red Caps were no longer a kingdom unto themselves. Ash and Holly were forced to stretch to keep up with the much bigger man; Jonty was a small giant even among them. They had been in charge of this expedition, but goblins are a tough lot. If they let Jonty reach the fight firstï¿½if they showed themselves weaker, slower, than himï¿½then they might not be in charge at the end of the night. Goblin society is survival of the fittest.

I cradled the gun carefully, pointing it away from Jonty. No one got ahead of usï¿½no one else had the length of legï¿½and the others were fighting just to keep pace. Such a big creature, but he ran with the grace and speed of something lithe and beautiful.

I asked him, ï¿½Why help me?ï¿½

In his deep voice, like gravel, he said, ï¿½I swore a personal oath to protect you. I will not be forsworn.ï¿½ He leaned over me, so that a drop of that magical blood fell upon my face. He whispered, ï¿½The Goddess and God still speak to me.ï¿½

I whispered back, ï¿½You heard my prayer.ï¿½

He gave a small nod. I touched his face, and my hand came away covered in blood, warm blood. I cuddled closer into the warmth of him. He raised his eyes again, and ran faster. ï¿½

CHAPTER 20

THE SKY BOILED WITH STORM CLOUDS OVER THE SMALL WOODSthat bordered the parking lot. The wild hunt wasnï¿½t a tentacled nightmare anymore. It looked like a storm, if storms could hover against the tops of trees and drape like black silk dripping between the trunks. Lightning flashed from the ground into the cloudsï¿½Mistral was still alive and fighting back. Who else?

Green flame flickered through the trees, and something hard and tight in my chest easedï¿½that flame was Doyleï¿½s hand of power. He was alive as well. In that moment nothing else really mattered to me. Not crown, not kingdom, not faerie itself; nothing mattered except that Doyle was alive and not so hurt he could not fight.

Ash and Holly put on a burst of speed so that they were ahead of Jonty and me as we neared the open area closest the trees. There wasnï¿½t enough cover to hide anything in the open field, until from thin shadows, goblins appeared. They didnï¿½t materialize, but emerged like a sniper hidden in his gillie suit in the fieldï¿½except that the only camouflage the goblins had was their own skin and clothes. Ash had called Kurag, Goblin King, as we ran to this place. To do so, he had bared his sword and put a hand on my shoulder to come away with blood to smear upon the blade. Blood and blade: old magic that worked long before cell phones were a dream in a humanï¿½s mind. Personally I wouldnï¿½t have wanted to run on the icy road with a bared blade. But Ash wasnï¿½t human, and he made it all look easy. Page 115

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Ash and his brother ran ahead of Jontyï¿½whoever got to the rendezvous first would lead the goblins without argument. But I didnï¿½t careï¿½as long as we saved my men, I didnï¿½t care who led. I would have followed anyone in that moment to save them.

One of the brothers fell to talking with the waiting force. It wasnï¿½t until the other brother got close enough for his eyes to flash crimson that I knew it was Holly come back to Jonty and me. Holly was struggling to breathe normally. Outrunning someone whose legs were almost as tall as he was took more effort than was pretty, even for a warrior as formidable as he. His voice held only a hint of the breathlessness that made his shoulders and chest rise and fall so rapidly. ï¿½The archers will be ready in moments. We need the princess.ï¿½

ï¿½I am not much of an archer,ï¿½ I said, still cradled in the heat of Jontyï¿½s body, and the blood. The blood that flowed from his cap down to my body was warm. Warm as if it spilled from a freshly opened wound. Holly gave me a look that appeared irritated even in the forgiving glow of moonlight. ï¿½You carry the hand of blood,ï¿½ he said. He let that anger that was always just below the surface for him fall into his voice. I nearly asked what that had to do with archers. But the moment before I said it, I did know. ï¿½Oh,ï¿½ I said. ï¿½Unless Kitto exaggerated what you did inLos Angeles to the Nameless,ï¿½ Holly added. I shook my head, the warm blood creeping down my neck between my skin and the borrowed trench coat. The blood should have been disturbing, but it wasnï¿½tï¿½it felt like a warm blanket on a cold night: comforting. ï¿½No, Kitto didnï¿½t exaggerate,ï¿½ I said. I didnï¿½t like that Kitto had borne tales to the goblins, but forced myself to accept that he was half theirs and still had to answer to their king. Heï¿½d probably had little choice in what he told them.

ï¿½The full hand of blood,ï¿½ Holly said, and his voice wasnï¿½t so much angry as skeptical. ï¿½Hard to believe it lies in such a fragile creature.ï¿½

ï¿½Look at my cap, if you doubt her power,ï¿½ Jonty rumbled.

Holly gazed upward, but his eyes didnï¿½t stay on the cap long. His gaze slid down to me, and something in that look was both sexual and predatory. I could feel the blood plastering the back of my hair, my shoulders, arms; I must have looked like an accident victim. Most men would have found it frightening, but Holly looked at me as if Iï¿½d covered myself with perfume and lingerie.One manï¿½s nightmare, anotherï¿½s fantasy. He reached a hand up, tentatively, as if he thought either Jonty or I would protest. When we didnï¿½t, he touched my shoulder. I think he meant to merely get a touch of blood on his fingers, but the moment his fingers brushed me, a look of wonder came over his face. He leaned in toward me, the wonder being eaten by something that was part desire, and part violence. ï¿½What have you been doing, Princess, to feel like this?ï¿½

ï¿½I donï¿½t know what youï¿½re feeling, so I donï¿½t know how to answer.ï¿½ My voice was small. Of all the men Iï¿½d agreed to have sex with, Holly and his brother were the ones who gave me the mostpause . Jontyï¿½s arms tightened around me, almost possessively. That was both good and bad. If all of Jonty was in proportion, then I could not satisfy him and live to tell the tale. But it was hard to tell with the Red Cap; his possessiveness might have had nothing to do with sex, and everything to do with the blood magic. Page 116

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Holly drew his hand from my shoulder. He began to lick the blood from his hand like a cat that has dipped its paw in your glass of milk. His eyes fluttered closed as he licked. ï¿½She calls your blood,ï¿½ he said, in a low voice better suited for a bedroom than a battlefield.

ï¿½Yes,ï¿½ Jonty said, and that one word from him had the same overly intimate tone. I was missing something, but did not want to admit that I didnï¿½t know what was happening, or why they were so fascinated with the fact that touching me made the Red Cap bleed more. At a loss, I changed the subject. ï¿½If you want me to call blood from our enemies, we need to get closer to the archers.ï¿½ I fought to keep my voice matter-of-fact, as if I knew exactly what was happening and either didnï¿½t care or took it completely in stride.

ï¿½And who will hold you while you call blood, so those dainty feet do not touch the cold ground?ï¿½ Holly said.

ï¿½I will stand on my own.ï¿½

ï¿½I will hold you,ï¿½ Jonty said.

ï¿½You are a goblin, Jonty. Goblins fight among themselves as sport, which means it is likely there is at least a nick somewhere on your body. If you have a wound, even a small one, when I call blood, I will bleed you, too.ï¿½

ï¿½I am no Red Cap to brawl for the sake of brawling. I save my flesh for other things,ï¿½ Holly said. He licked the last of the blood from his hand in a long smooth movement that should have been sensual, but managed to be mostly just unnerving.

ï¿½I will stand on my own,ï¿½ I repeated.

ï¿½Your brother waves to get our attention,ï¿½ Jonty said then to Holly, and moved forward. Holly hesitated, as if he would block our way, but then moved aside, speaking as Jonty passed him. ï¿½I will see you survive this night, Princess, for I mean to have you.ï¿½

ï¿½I remember our bargain, Holly,ï¿½ I called back.

The smaller goblin hurried to keep up with Jontyï¿½s longer strides. It was like a child running after an adult, though Holly wouldnï¿½t have thanked me for the comparison. ï¿½I hear reluctance in your voice, Princess, and the sex will be all the sweeter for it.ï¿½

ï¿½Do not torment her on the edge of battle, Holly,ï¿½ Jonty said. Holly didnï¿½t argue; he just abandoned the topic for the time being. ï¿½The archers will cut them for you, but you have to weaken them enough to bring them down,ï¿½ he said to me. ï¿½I know what you want me to do.ï¿½

ï¿½You donï¿½t sound certain.ï¿½

I didnï¿½t voice my doubts, but this was a wild hunt. A true wild hunt, which meantit was the essence of faerie. The creatures could bleed, but how do you kill something that is formed of pure magic? This was Page 117

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ancient magic, chaos magic, primeval and horrible. How do you kill such things? Even if I bled them enough to bring them to earth, could they be truly slain by blade and ax? I had never heard of anyone fighting and winning against such a hunt.

Of course, I had never heard that the spectral hunts could bleed if cut. Sholto had called this one into being, using magic that he and I had raised as a couple. Was it my mortal blood that had made the hunt vulnerable to bleeding? Was my mortality truly contagious, as some of my enemies claimed?

Following this idea to its logical extension meant that if I sat on the throne of our court, it would condemn all of the sidhe to age and die. But at this moment if my mortal flesh had made this hunt mortal in turn, I was grateful for it. It meant they could bleed and die, and I needed them to die. We needed to win this battle. I would not spread my mortality through all of faerie, but to have shared it with these creaturesï¿½well, that would be a blessing.

ï¿½

CHAPTER 21

THE ARROWS CUT THE NIGHT SKY LIKE BLACK WOUNDS ACROSSthe stars, vanishing into the boiling black silk of the clouds. We waited in the winter night for screams to let us know the bolts had found their mark, but there was nothing but silence.

I stood on the ground, pulling the borrowed trench coat around me. I stood on Hollyï¿½s cloak, which he had thrown on the ground to keep my bare feet from the rough ground and the cold. ï¿½The cloak gets in the way of my ax,ï¿½ heï¿½d said, as if he were afraid that I might think he was being gentlemanly. Then he moved forward to be with his brother and the other warriors.

Only Jonty and one other Red Cap stayed back with me, though every Red Cap who had come out tonightï¿½a dozen of themï¿½had touched me before they went to take their place in the ranks. They had laid their mouths, in a strange sort of kiss, against my shoulder where the coat hung heavy with blood from Jontyï¿½s cap. One had caught the coat in his pointed teeth and torn it before Jonty had slapped him away. The ones who came after had widened the hole until the lips of the last few touched my bare shoulder where the blood had begun to dry to my skin. I had neither offered the Red Caps the familiarity, nor been asked; Jonty had called them, and spoken in a Gaelic so old that I could not follow it.

Whatever Jonty had said to them had turned their faces to me, and the look in their eyes was that odd mix of sex, hunger, and eagerness that Iï¿½d seen in Holly. I hadnï¿½t understood the lookï¿½and hadnï¿½t had time to question itï¿½but because it cost me nothing to have their lips pressed to my shoulder, I allowed it. Then I noticed that each of the Red Caps who touched me began bleeding afresh after touching Jontyï¿½s blood on my body.

I was fighting an urge to scream my impatience at them, but the Red Caps werenï¿½t the ones delaying; the other goblins squabbled about who would go where. If Kurag, Goblin King, had come, there would have been no arguments, but Ash and Holly, though fearedwarriors, were not kings, and all other leadership among the goblins is a constant state of struggle. The goblin society represented the ultimate in Darwinian evolution: only the strongest survive, and only the very strongest lead.

If I had been truly queen enough to lead them, they would have done what I ordered, but I didnï¿½t have their respect yet, so I knew better than to try to lead here. It would have undermined Ash and Holly, and gained me nothing. Besides, battlefield tactics wasnï¿½t my strongest suit, and I knew that. My father had drilled into me from an early age to know my strengths and weaknesses. Find allies who complement you, heï¿½d said. True Page 118

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friendship is a type of love, and all love has power.

Jonty leaned over me and said, ï¿½Call your hand of power, Princess.ï¿½

ï¿½How do you know they are hurt?ï¿½

ï¿½We are goblins,ï¿½ he said, as if that settled it.

Another line of green flame flickered through the trees, and I was close enough now to see the black tendrils back away from it. I didnï¿½t argue again, but called the hand of blood. I concentrated on my left hand. It didnï¿½t emit a beam of power, or anything like you see in the movies; it was simply that the mark, or key, to the hand of blood lay in the palm of my left hand. Or maybedoorway was a better term. I opened the mark in the palm of that hand, and though there was nothing to see with the naked eye, there was plenty to feel.

It was as if the blood in my veins had suddenly turned to molten metal. My blood tried to boil with the power of it. I screamed, and thrust my hand toward the cloud. I projected that burning, tearing power outward. I realized in that moment that it wasnï¿½t just the archers who were shooting blindï¿½I had never before tried to use the hand of blood on a target I could not see.

For a heartbeat the power turned back on me, and every small scrape Iï¿½d accumulated in the past twenty-four hours bled. Each tiny wound bled like a fountain, and I fought my body, fought my own magic to keep it from destroying me.

Lightning struck the cloud, and illuminated it, as it had inside the sluaghï¿½s mound. But I wasnï¿½t horrified this time, I was joyous; a fierce triumphant joy. If I could see it, I could make it bleed. I had the blink of an eye to spot my targets.A breath to see that the tentacled mass was white and silver and gold, not the black and grey and white it had been. I had an instant to note that the hunt had a terrible beauty before I thrust my power toward that shining mass and screamed, ï¿½Bleed!ï¿½

Green flame climbed up the trees and lightning flared behind it so that both powers met mine in the cloud at the same instant. The cloud flashed green in reflected color. I called for blood and black fountains of it exploded into the green-yellow flare.

The light died, leaving the night blacker than before. My night vision had been ruined from staring into the light. Something spattered against the left side of my face, something that felt wet, but carried no shock of temperature difference. Only two things feel like that: water at body temperature, and very fresh blood. If I had been a warrior, I would have whirled, gun up, but I turned slowly, like a character in a horror movie who doesnï¿½t really want to see the blow before it falls.

All that met my eyes was the shortest of my Red Cap guards, Bithek. Someone had sliced open his scalp to spill blood in a gory mask down his face, so that even his eyes were lost to the dark flow of it. Then he shook his head like a wet dog, spattering me with warm drops. I closed my eyes, put up a protecting hand. Jontyï¿½s chided Bithek.ï¿½Youï¿½re wasting the blood.ï¿½

ï¿½But so much, canï¿½t keep it out of my eyes. Iï¿½d forgotten that it was ever like this,ï¿½ Bithek growled. Page 119

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I looked behind me at Jonty and found him as bloody as the other guard. It made me look around at all of them. They were all covered in blood, but even by moonlight and starlight, I could see now that the blood welled from the caps on their heads.

ï¿½Your magic brings our blood, Princess,ï¿½ Jonty said.

ï¿½I donï¿½t understandï¿½ï¿½

ï¿½Make them bleed for us,ï¿½ the last Red Cap said.

I looked at him. ï¿½I canï¿½t remember your name,ï¿½ I said.

ï¿½For this magic, I would follow you nameless, Princess Meredith. Bleed our enemies, and cover us in their blood.ï¿½

I turned away from the Red Caps. I didnï¿½t understand completely, but trusted. One mystery at a timeï¿½later, later I would unravel it all.

Even facing away from the Red Caps, I could still feel them. It was as if their power complemented mine, fed it. No; our powers fed each other; they were like a warm battery at my back, comforting, energizing. I threw that warmth, that weight of power against our enemies. I called their blood by the flash of lightning and the flicker of green-gold flame. I called their blood and knew that the Red Caps at my back bled with them. I could feel it. The ones who waited ahead of us bled, too. A goblin came running toward us in a blurring speed that would have done any sidhe proud. He was no taller than me, but had four arms to my two, and a face that was noseless and strangely unfinished. He dropped to his knees, and would not meet my eyes. He actually put two of his arms on the ground and abased himselfï¿½striking, because in goblin society the lower you go, the more respect you feel for the person youï¿½re addressing. I didnï¿½t usually get that kind of greeting from anybody. He said, ï¿½A message from Ash and Holly: ï¿½ï¿½Aim your magic better, Princess, before you bleed us all to death.ï¿½ï¿½

Now I understood why he was abasing himselfï¿½he had been afraid Iï¿½d take the message badly. ï¿½Tell them Iï¿½ll aim better,ï¿½ I said wryly.

He ducked his head, bumping his forehead to the earth, then sprang to his feet and raced back the way he had come. I drew my magic back, swallowed the hand of blood. The pain was instantaneous, grinding, and sharp, like broken glass flowing through my veins. I screamed my pain, wordlessly, but kept the magic inside me. I fought to visualize the creatures inside the cloud.Tentacles, veined with silver and gold, white and pure, muscled magic. I fell to my knees with the pain. Jonty reached for me, and I hissed, ï¿½No, donï¿½t touch me.ï¿½ The magic wanted to bleed someone, anyone, and his touch would make him the target. I closed my eyes so I could mentally draw the picture of what I sought. When I could see it, shining and writhing across the inside of my eyes, I reached my left hand out again, and threw that broken-glass pain into the image. My pain intensified for a shining, breathless momentï¿½all there was in that second was the pain, so much pain. Then it eased, and I could breathe againï¿½and I knew the hand of blood was busy elsewhere. I kept my eyes closed so nothing else could catch my eye. I was afraid that if I saw the goblin warriors again, Iï¿½d bleed them by accident. I knew what I wanted to bleed, and that was above their heads in the sky. I Page 120

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thought about all the beautiful things that could have flown above their heads. Did it have to be frightening?

There was such beauty in faerie, why did it have to be nightmarish?

I heard the sound of wings whistling overhead, and opened my eyes. Iï¿½d fallen to the ground on top of Ashï¿½s cloak, though I didnï¿½t remember falling. Above us, so close that the great white wings brushed Jontyï¿½s head, were swans. Swans gleaming white in the moonlight: There had to be more than twenty of them, and had I seen what I thought I saw on their necks and shoulders?Chains and collars of gold? It couldnï¿½t beï¿½this was the stuff of legends.

It was the nameless Red Cap who voiced my thought: ï¿½They had chains on their necks.ï¿½

I heard the wild call of geese next. They flew just overhead, following the line the swans had taken. I got to my feet, stumbling on the edge of the borrowed trench coat. Jonty caught me, but it didnï¿½t seem to hurt him or me. I felt light and airy, as if the hand of blood had become something else. What had I been thinking just before the swans flew overhead? That the beauty in faerie was too often nightmarish?

There was a flight of cranes then: my fatherï¿½s bird, one of his symbols. The cranes flew low and seemed to dip their wings at us, almost in a salute.

ï¿½They fall!ï¿½ shouted Bithek.

I looked where he pointed. The storm cloud had vanished, and with it most of the creatures. There had been so many, a writhing mass of them, but now there were only a fewï¿½less than ten, maybeï¿½and one of them had already crashed through the trees. A second fell earthward, and I heard the sharp crack of the trees breaking under the weight like a cannon shot, and men scattered, too far away for me to know who was who. Was Doyle safe? Was Mistral? Had the magic worked in time?

Inside my head, I could finally admit, it was Doyle I most needed to survive. I loved Rhys, but not like I loved Doyle. I let myself own that. I let myself admit, at least inside my own head, that if Doyle died, part of me would die as well. It had been the moment at the car, when heï¿½d shoved Frost and me inside and given me to Frost. ï¿½If not me, it must be you,ï¿½ heï¿½d said to Frost. I loved Frost, too, but Iï¿½d had my revelation. If I could have chosen my king this moment, I knew who it would be. Pity that I wasnï¿½t the one doing the choosing.

Figures started toward us, and the goblins parted to form a corridor for my guards. When I finally recognized that tall, dark figure, something in my chest eased, and I was suddenly crying. I started walking toward him, then. I didnï¿½t feel the frozen grass under my bare feet. I didnï¿½t feel when broken stubble cut me. Then I was running, with the Red Caps jogging beside me. I picked up the edges of the borrowed coat like a dress, and held it out of my way so I could run to him.

Doyle wasnï¿½t alone; dogs, huge black dogs milled around his legs. Suddenly I remembered a vision Iï¿½d had of him with dogs like this, and the ground tilted under my feet, vision and reality melding before my eyes. The dogs reached me first, pressing warm muscled fur against me where I knelt, their great panting breath hot on my face as I held my hands out to touch them. Their black fur ran with a tingling rush of magic. The bodies writhed under my hand, the fur growing less coarse, smoothing, the bodies less dense. I looked up into the face of a racing hound, white and sleek, with ears a shining red. The other houndï¿½s face was half red and half white, as if some hand had drawn a line down the center of it. Iï¿½d never seen anything so beautiful as that face.

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Then Doyle was standing in front of me, and I threw myself into his arms. He lifted me off the ground and hugged me so hard it almost hurt. But I wanted him to hold me hard. I wanted to feel the reality of his body against me. I wanted to know he was alive. I needed to touch him to know it was true. I needed him to touch me, and let me know that he was still my Darkness, still my Doyle. He whispered into my hair, ï¿½Merry, Merry,Merry .ï¿½

I clung to him, wordless, and wept.

ï¿½

CHAPTER 22

EVERYONE LIVED, EVEN THE HUMAN POLICEMEN, THOUGHsome were driven mad by what they had seen. Abeloec fed them from his cup of horn and they fell into a magical sleep, destined to wake with no memory of the horrors they had seen. Magic isnï¿½t always bad. The black dogs were a miracle: They changed depending on who touched them. Abeï¿½s touch turned the great black dogs into lapdogs tolie before a cozy fire, white with red markingsï¿½faerie dogs. Mistralï¿½s touch turned them to huge Irish wolfhounds, not the pale, slender ones of today, but the giants that the Romans had feared so muchï¿½these were the hounds that could snap the spine of a horse with their bite. Someone elseï¿½s touch turned a dog into a green-furred Cu Sith that loped off toward the Seelie mound. What would their king, Taranis, think of its return? Heï¿½d probably try to take credit for it, claim it as proof of his power. In the midst of the return of so much that was lost, other things much more precious were returned to me. Galenï¿½s voice shouting my name turned me in Doyleï¿½s arms. He was running across the snowy field with flowers following in his wake, as if wherever he stepped, spring returned. All the rest who had vanished into the dead gardens were with him. Nicca appeared with a following of the winged demifey. Amatheon was there with the tattoo of a plow gleaming like neon blood on his chest. I sawHawthorne , his dark hair starred with living blossoms. Adairï¿½s hair burned around him like a halo of fire, so bright it obscured his face as he moved. Aisling walked in a cloud of singing birds. He was nude, except for a piece of black gauze that heï¿½d wrapped around his face.

Onilwyn was the only one who did not come. I thought the garden had kept him, until I heard another voice shrieking my name in the distance. Then I heard Onilwynï¿½s frantic cry: ï¿½No, my lord, no!ï¿½

ï¿½It cannot be,ï¿½ I whispered, looking up at Doyle, watching fear cross his face, too. ï¿½It is he,ï¿½ Nicca said.

Galen wrapped himself around me as if I were the last solid thing in the world. Doyle moved so he could embrace me as well. ï¿½Itï¿½s my fault,ï¿½ Galen whispered, ï¿½I didnï¿½t mean to do it.ï¿½

Aisling spoke, and the flock of birds sang as if they were moved to joy by the sound of his voice. ï¿½We reemerged in the Hallway of Mortality.ï¿½

ï¿½Major magic doesnï¿½t work there; thatï¿½s why weï¿½re all so helpless to stop the torture,ï¿½ Rhys said. ï¿½We came out of the walls and floorsï¿½and trees and flowers, and shining marble came with us,ï¿½

Aisling said. ï¿½The hallway is forever changed.ï¿½

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Galen started to shake, and I held him as hard as I could. ï¿½I was buried alive,ï¿½ he said. ï¿½I couldnï¿½t breathe, I didnï¿½t need to breathe, but my body kept trying to do it. I came up through the floor screaming.ï¿½ He collapsed to his knees while I fought to hold him. ï¿½The queen was walling up Nerysï¿½s clan alive,ï¿½ Amatheon said. ï¿½Galen did not take well to that after his time in the earth.ï¿½

Galen shook as if he were having a fit, as if every muscle were fighting itself, as if he were cold, though fevered. It was too much power and too much fear.

Adairï¿½s glow had dimmed enough so that I could see his eyes. ï¿½Galen said ï¿½No prisoners, no walls.ï¿½

The walls melted away, and flowers sprang up in the cells. He hadnï¿½t understood how much power he had gained.ï¿½

Another shriek approached in the distance.ï¿½Cousin!ï¿½

Doyle said, ï¿½Galenï¿½s exhortation, ï¿½No prisoners,ï¿½ freed Cel.ï¿½

Galen started to cry. ï¿½Iï¿½m sorry,ï¿½ he said.

ï¿½Onilwyn and the queen herselfï¿½and some of her guardï¿½are wrestling Cel even now,ï¿½ Hawthorne said, ï¿½or he would be here already, trying to harm the princess.ï¿½

ï¿½He is quite mad,ï¿½ Aisling said, ï¿½and he is intent on hurting all of us.But most especially you, Princess.ï¿½

ï¿½The queen told us to run back to the Western Lands. Sheï¿½s hoping heï¿½ll growmore calm with time,ï¿½Hawthorne said. Even by starlight, he looked doubtful. ï¿½She has admitted before her nobles that she cannot guarantee your safety,ï¿½ Aisling said. ï¿½We should flee, if we are going to,ï¿½Hawthorne said.

I realized what he meant. If Cel attacked me now, here, like this, we would be within our rights to kill him, if we could. My guards were sworn to protect, and Cel was no match for the strength and magic that stood with me now. Not alone, he wasnï¿½t.

ï¿½If I thought the queen would allow his death to go unpunished, I would say,Stay, fight, ï¿½ Doyle said. One of the great black mastiffs nudged Galen. He reached for it, almost automatically, and it changed before my eyes. It became a sleek white hound with one red ear. It licked the tears from Galenï¿½s face and he stared at it in wonder, as if he hadnï¿½t seen the dogs until that moment. Thencame Celï¿½s voice, broken, almost unrecognizable. ï¿½Merry!ï¿½ His screams broke off abruptly. The silence was almost more frightening than the shouting, and my heart was suddenly pounding hard in my chest. ï¿½What happened?ï¿½ I called out.

Andais walked over the rise of the last gentle hill, following Galenï¿½s trail of flowers. She was alone, save Page 123

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for her consort, Eamon. They were almost the same height, their long black hair streaming out behind them in a wind that came from nowhere. Andais was dressed as if shewere going to a Halloween ballï¿½and you were meant to fear her beauty. Eamonï¿½s clothes were more sedate, and also all black. The fact that Andais arrived with only him at her side meant she didnï¿½t want extra witnesses. Eamon was the only one who knew all her secrets.

ï¿½Cel will sleep for a time,ï¿½ she called, as if in answer to a question we hadnï¿½t asked. Galen fought to stand while I steadied him. Doyle moved a little in front of me. Some of the others did, too. The rest looked behind us into the night, as if they suspected their queen of treachery. Eamon might be on my side some of the timeï¿½he might even hate Celï¿½but he would never go against his queen. Andais and Eamon stopped far enough away that they were out of easy weapon range. The goblins watched them, and us, from a tight huddled knot, as if they werenï¿½t sure whose side they were on. I didnï¿½t blame them, for Iï¿½d be going back toL.A. and they would be staying here. I could force Kurag, their king, to lend me warriors, but I couldnï¿½t expect his men to follow me into exile. ï¿½Meredith, niece of mine, child of my brother Essus, greetings.ï¿½Sheï¿½d chosen a greeting that acknowledged I was her bloodline. She was trying to be reassuring; she was just so bad at it. I stepped forward until she could see me, but not beyond the protective circle of the men. ï¿½Queen Andais, aunt of mine, sister of my father, Essus, greetings.ï¿½

ï¿½You must go back to the Western Lands tonight, Meredith,ï¿½ said Andais. ï¿½Yes,ï¿½ I answered.

Andais looked at the hounds that still milled among the men. Rhys finally let himself touch them, and they became terriers of breeds long forgotten, some white and red, others a good solid black and tan. The queen tried to call one of the dogs to her. The big mastiffs were what the humans called Hell Hounds, though they had nothing to do with the Christian devil. The big black dogs would have matched the queenï¿½s costume, but they ignored her. These wish hounds, the hounds of faerie, would not go to the hand of the Queen of Air and Darkness.

Had I been her, I would have knelt in the snow and coaxed them, but Andais did not kneel to anyone, or anything. She stood straight and beautiful, and colder than the snow around her feet. Two other hounds had come to my hands, and they now bumped against me on either side, leaning in to be petted. I did it, because in faerie, we touch someone when they ask. The moment I stroked that silken fur, I felt better: braver, more confident,a little less afraid of what was about to happen. ï¿½Dogs, Meredith? Couldnï¿½t you return our horses to us, or our cattle, instead?ï¿½

ï¿½There were pigs in my vision,ï¿½ I said.

ï¿½Not dogs,ï¿½ shesaid, her voice matter-of-fact, as if nothing special had happened. ï¿½I saw dogs in a different vision, when I was still in the Western Lands.ï¿½

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ï¿½Apparently so,ï¿½ I said, ruffling the ear of the taller of the hounds. ï¿½You must leave now, Meredith, and take this wild magic with you.ï¿½

ï¿½Wild magic is not so easily tamed, Aunt Andais,ï¿½ I said. ï¿½I will take back with me what will go, but some of it is flying free, even as we speak.ï¿½

ï¿½I saw the swans,ï¿½ Andais said, ï¿½but no crows. You are so terribly Seelie.ï¿½

ï¿½The Seelie would say otherwise,ï¿½ I said.

ï¿½Go,go back to where you came from. Take your guards and your magic, and leave me the wreck of my son.ï¿½ It was tantamount to admitting that if Cel fought me tonight, he would die. ï¿½I will go only if I can take all the guards who would come with me.ï¿½ I said it as firmly and bravely as I could.

ï¿½You cannot have Mistral,ï¿½ she said.

I fought not to look for him at my back, fought not to see his big hands touching the huge hounds that his caress had brought into being. ï¿½Yes, I said. I remember what you told me in the dead gardens: that I could not keep him.ï¿½

ï¿½You will not argue with me?ï¿½ she asked.

ï¿½Would it do any good?ï¿½ The tiniest hint of anger seeped into my voice. The hounds tucked themselves tighter against my legs, leaning in for all they were worth, as if they would remind me not to lose control. ï¿½The only thing that will call Mistral from my side to yours in the Western Lands is if you come up pregnant. If you become with child, I will have to let go of any who could be the father.ï¿½

ï¿½If I become with child, I will send word,ï¿½ I said, and fought to keep my voice even. Mistral was going to suffer for being with me, I could see it in her face, feel it in her voice. ï¿½I do not know what to wish for anymore, Meredith. Your magic runs through my sithen, changing it into something bright and cheerful. There is a field of flowers in my torture chamber.ï¿½

ï¿½What do you want me to say, Aunt Andais?ï¿½

ï¿½I wanted the magic of faerie to be reborn, but you are not enough my brotherï¿½s daughter. You will make of us only anotherSeelie Court to dance and parade before the human press. You will make us beautiful, but destroy that which makes us different.ï¿½

ï¿½I would humbly disagree with that,ï¿½ said a voice from the crowd of my men. Sholto stepped forward. His tattoo had become a nest of real tentacles again, glowing and pale, and strangely beautiful, like some underwater sea creature, some anemone or jellyfish. It was the first time Iï¿½d ever seen him display his extra bits with pride. He stood tall with the spear and knife of bone in his hands; at his side was a huge white hound with different red markings on each of its three heads. Sholto used the side of the hand that held the knife to rub the top of one of the huge heads.

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Sholto spoke again. ï¿½Merry makes us beautiful, yes,my queen. But the beauty is stranger than anything theSeelie Court would allow within their doors.ï¿½

Andais gazed at Sholto, and for a moment I thought I saw regret. Sholtoï¿½s magic rode him, and power breathed off him into the night.

ï¿½You had him,ï¿½ she said to me, simply.

ï¿½Yes,ï¿½ I said.

ï¿½How was it?ï¿½

ï¿½It was our coming together that raised the wild hunt.ï¿½

She shivered, and there was a hunger on her face that frightened me.ï¿½Amazing. Perhaps I will try him some night.ï¿½

Sholto spoke again. ï¿½There was a time, my queen, when the thought of a chance at your bed would have filled me with joy. But I truly know now that I am King Sholto of the Sluagh, the Lord of That Which Passes Between, Lord of Shadows. I will no longer take crumbs from the table of any sidhe.ï¿½

She made a sharp sound, almost a hiss. ï¿½You must be an amazing bit of ass, Meredith. One fuck with you and they all turn against me.ï¿½

To that, there was no safe answer, so I said nothing. I stood in the midst of my men, with the weight and press of the hounds milling around us. Would she have been more aggressive if the dogsï¿½war dogs, most of themï¿½had not been there? Was she afraid of the magicï¿½or the more solid form the magic had taken?

One of the small terriers growled, and it was like a signal to the others. The night was suddenly thick with growls, a low chorus that shivered down my spine. I petted the heads of those I could touch, hushing them. The Goddess had sent me guardians, I understood that now. I thanked her for it. ï¿½Celï¿½s guards who did not take oath to himï¿½you promised they could go with me,ï¿½ I said. ï¿½I will not strip him of all signs of my favor,ï¿½ she answered, and her anger seemed to crackle on the cold air.

ï¿½You gave your word,ï¿½ I insisted.

The dogs gave another low chorus of growls. The terriers began to bark, as terriers will. I realized in that moment that the wild hunt was not gone, only changed. These were the hounds of the wild hunt. These were the hounds of legend that hunted oathbreakers through the winter wood. ï¿½Do not dare to threaten!ï¿½ said Andais. Eamon touched her arm. She jerked away from him, but seemed chastened. The wild hunt had been a great leveler of the mighty. Once you became their prey, the hunt did not end until the quarry was dead.

ï¿½I do not believe I am the huntsman,ï¿½ I said.

ï¿½It would be a bad night, Queen Andais, to be an oathbreaker.ï¿½ Doyleï¿½s deep molasses voice seemed to hang on the night, as if his words had more weight on the still, winter air than they should have. Page 126

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ï¿½Are you the huntsman, Darkness? Would you punish me for breaking faith?ï¿½

ï¿½It is wild magic, Your Majesty; there is sometimes little choice when it fills you. You become an instrument of the magic, and it uses you for its own ends.ï¿½

ï¿½Magic is a tool to be wielded, not some force one allows oneself to be overcome by.ï¿½

ï¿½As you will, Queen Andais, but I ask that you do not test these hounds tonight.ï¿½ Somehow it seemed Doyle wasnï¿½t talking about just the dogs.

ï¿½I will honor my word,ï¿½ she said in a voice that made it clear that she did so only because she had no choice. She had never been a gracious loser, not in anything, large or small. ï¿½But you must leave now, Meredith, this moment.ï¿½

ï¿½We need time to send for the other guards,ï¿½ I said.

ï¿½I will bring all those who wish to come to you, Meredith,ï¿½ Sholto said. I turned, and there was an assurance in him, a strength that had not been there before. He stood there with his ï¿½deformityï¿½ plain to see. He now made it seem just another part of him, though, a part that would have been as surely missed as anarm, or a leg if it were gone. Had being stripped of his extra bits made him realize he valued them?Maybe. It was his revelation, not mine.

ï¿½You would side with her,ï¿½ Andais said.

ï¿½I am King of the Sluagh; I will see that an oath given and accepted is honored. Remember, QueenAndais, that the sluagh was the only wild hunt left in faerie until tonight. And I am the huntsman of the sluagh.ï¿½

She took a step toward him, as if in threat, but Eamon pulled her back. He whispered urgently against her cheek. I could not hear what he said, but the tension left her body, until she allowed herself to lean back against him. She let him hold her; in the face of those who were not her friends, she let Eamonï¿½s arms hold her.

ï¿½Go, Meredith, take all that is yours, and go.ï¿½ Her voice was almost neutral, almost free of that rage that always seemed to bubble just underneath her skin.

ï¿½Your Majesty,ï¿½ Rhys said, ï¿½we cannot go to the human airport like this.ï¿½ His gesture seemed to note how many of the guards were naked, and bloody. The terriers at his feet gave happy barks, as if it looked all right to them.

Sholto spoke again. ï¿½I will take you to the edge of theWesternSea , just as I took the sluagh when we hunted Meredith inLos Angeles .ï¿½

I looked at him and shook my head. ï¿½I thought you came by plane.ï¿½

He laughed, and it was a joyous sound. ï¿½Did you picture the dark host of the sluagh on some human airplane sipping wine and ogling the flight attendants?ï¿½

I laughed with him. ï¿½I hadnï¿½t thought about it that clearly. You are the sluaghï¿½I didnï¿½t question how you got to me.ï¿½

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ï¿½I will walk the edge of the field where it touches the woods. It is an in-between place, neither field nor forest. I will walk, you will all follow, and we will be at the edge of theWesternSea , where it touches the shore. I am the lord of the between places, Meredith.ï¿½

ï¿½I didnï¿½t think any royals could still travel so far,ï¿½ Rhys said. ï¿½I am the King of the Sluagh, Cromm Cruach, master of the last wild hunt of faerie. I have certain gifts.ï¿½

ï¿½Indeed,ï¿½ the queen said, drily, ï¿½use those gifts, Shadowspawn, and takethese rabble from my sight.ï¿½ Sheï¿½d used the nickname that the sidhe called him behind his back, but that even she had never used to his face before.

ï¿½Your disdain cannot touch me tonight, for I have seen wonders.ï¿½ He held up the weapons of bone, as if she had missed them before. ï¿½I hold the bones of my people. I know my worth.ï¿½

If Iï¿½d been closer to him I would have embraced him. Probably just as well that I wasnï¿½t, as it might have ruined the power of the moment, but I promised myself to give him a hug the moment we had some privacy. I loved seeing that he valued himself at last.

I heard a sound like the breaking of ice. ï¿½Frost,ï¿½ I said. ï¿½We canï¿½t leave him behind.ï¿½

ï¿½Didnï¿½t the FBI take him to the hospital?ï¿½ Doyle asked.

I shook my head. ï¿½I donï¿½t think so.ï¿½ I looked out across the snow. I couldnï¿½t see anything, butï¿½I started moving, and the hounds followed at my side. I started to run across the snow, and felt the first sharp pain in my cut feet. I ignored it, and ran faster. Time and distance shortenedï¿½as they never before had outside the sithen. One minute I was with the others, the next I was miles away, in the fields beside the road. My twin hounds had stayed with me, and half a dozen of the black mastiffs were there, too. Frost lay in the snow, unmoving, as if he couldnï¿½t feel the dogs snuffling at him or my hands turning him over. The drifts underneath him were soaked with blood, and his eyes were closed. His face was so cold. I lowered my lips to his and whispered his name: ï¿½Frost, please, please,donï¿½t leave me.ï¿½

His body convulsed, and his breath rattled back into his chest. Death seemed to be reversed. His eyes fluttered open, and he tried to reach for me, but his hand fell back into the snow, too weak. I lifted his hand to my face and held it there. I held his hand there while it grew warm against my skin. I cried, and he found his voice, hoarse. He whispered, ï¿½The cold cannot kill me.ï¿½

ï¿½Oh, Frost.ï¿½

He raised his other hand and touched the tears on my face. ï¿½Do not weep for me, Merry. You love me, I heard it. I was leaving, but I heard your voice, and I couldnï¿½t leave, not if you loved me.ï¿½

I cradled his head in my lap and wept. His other hand, the one that I wasnï¿½t clutching, brushed the fur of one of the huge black dogs. The dog stretched and grew tall and white. A shining white stag stood over us. It had a collar of holly, and looked like some Yule card brought to life. It pranced in the snow,then ran in a white blur across the snow until it was lost to sight.

ï¿½What magic is abroad this night?ï¿½ Frost whispered.

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ï¿½The magic that will take you home.ï¿½Doyle spoke from behind us. He fell to his knees in the snow beside Frost, and took his hand. ï¿½The next time I send you to a hospital, you are to go.ï¿½

Frost managed a wan smile. ï¿½I could not leave her.ï¿½

Doyle nodded as if that made perfect sense.

ï¿½I donï¿½t think the magic will last until morning,ï¿½ Rhys said. They were all there, trailing behind, except Mistral. He was with the queen, I supposed. I hadnï¿½t even gotten to say good-bye. ï¿½But for tonight,ï¿½ Rhys said, ï¿½I am Cromm Cruach, and I can help.ï¿½ He knelt on the other side of Frost and laid hands on him, above where his clothing was black with blood. Rhys was suddenly formed of white light, not just his hands, but all of him glowing. His hair moved in the wind of his own magic. Frostï¿½s body jerked upward, leaving my lap and our hands. He fell back against Doyle and me, and said in a voice that was almost his own, ï¿½That hurt.ï¿½

ï¿½Sorry about that,ï¿½ said Rhys, ï¿½but Iï¿½m not a healer, not really. There is too much of death in my power to make it painless.ï¿½

Frost touched his own shoulder and chest, taking his hands from out of Doyleï¿½s and mine. ï¿½If you are not a healer, then why do I feel healed?ï¿½

ï¿½Old magic,ï¿½ Rhys said. ï¿½The morning light will find this magic gone.ï¿½

ï¿½How can you be certain?ï¿½ Doyle asked.

ï¿½The voice of the God in my head tells me so.ï¿½

No one questioned after that. We just accepted it as true.

Sholto led us to the edge of the field and forest. The dogs moved around us, some choosing their masters, others making it plain that they did not belong to anyone here. The ones that chose among us followed as Sholto walked, but the other black dogs began to fall back and vanish into the night, as if we had imagined them. The hound at my side bumped my hand for a pat, as if to remind me that it was real. I wasnï¿½t certain the hounds would stay, but they seemed magically to give each of us what we needed tonight. Galen walked surrounded by dogs, circled by sleek-looking greyhounds and a trio of small dogs dancing at his feet. They made him smile, and helped chase the shadows from his face. Doyle moved in a circle of black dogs; they fawned and capered about him like puppies. The terriers followed Rhys like a small army of fur. Frost held my hand over the back of the smallest of the greyhounds. He had no dog at his sideï¿½only the white stag that had run into the night. But he seemed perfectly content with my hand in his. The air was warm, and I looked from Frostï¿½s face to Sholto, and found that Sholto was walking on sand. One moment we were walking in snow-covered fields at the edge of the trees, and the next moment sand sucked at my feet. Water swirled over my bare toes, and the bite of salt let me know that I was bleeding. I must have made some small sound, because Frost picked me up. I protested, but it did me no good. The greyhounds stayed at his side, dancing around us, half afraid of the curl of ocean, and seemingly worried that they couldnï¿½t stay in contact with me.

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Sholto led us up on dry land. The three-headed dog and the bone weapons had vanished, but somehow I didnï¿½t think they were any more gone than the chalice was from me. True magic cannot be lost or stolen; it can only be given away.

We stood in the darkness, hours before dawn. I could hear the rushing of cars on the highway nearby. We were hidden by cliffs, but that would change as the dawn grew near. Surfers and fishermen would come down to the sea, and we needed to be gone before then.

ï¿½Use glamour to hide your appearance,ï¿½ Sholto said. ï¿½I have sent for taxis. They will arrive very soon.ï¿½

ï¿½What magic is it,ï¿½ I asked, ï¿½that lets you find taxis inL.A. at a momentï¿½s notice?ï¿½

ï¿½I am the Lord of That Which Passes Between, Merry, and taxis are always going between one place and another.ï¿½

It made perfect sense, but it made me smile all the same. I reached for Sholto, and Frost let him take me, though not just with his arms. The thick muscular tentacles wrapped around my body, the smaller ones playing along my thighs, somehow finding their way under the borrowed trench coat. ï¿½Next time you are in my bed, I will not be half a man.ï¿½

I kissed him, and whispered against his lips, ï¿½If that was you as only half a man, King Sholto, then I can hardly wait to have you in all your glory.ï¿½

He laughed, that joyous sound that had brought the singing of birds in the sluaghï¿½s dead garden. I thought there would be no answer here, but suddenly over the sighing of surf came singing, one birdsong after another, sliding in joyous celebration in the dark. It was a mockingbird, singing for Sholtoï¿½s laughter. We stood for a moment on the edge of theWesternSea with the mockingbirdï¿½s song pouring over us, as if happiness could have a sound.

Sholto kissed me back, hard and thorough, leaving me breathless. Then he handed me back, not to Frost, but to Doyle. ï¿½I will return so I can bring the rest of the guards who wish to come into exile with you.ï¿½

Doyle cuddled me in against his body and said, ï¿½Beware the queen.ï¿½

Sholto nodded. ï¿½I will be wary.ï¿½ He began to walk back the way we had come. Somewhere before he vanished from sight I saw the white shine of a dog at his side. ï¿½Everybodyremember that the glamour is supposed to hide the fact that weï¿½re naked, and bloody,ï¿½

Rhys said.ï¿½Anyone who doesnï¿½t have enough glamour to pull it off, stand next to someone who does.ï¿½

ï¿½Yes, Teacher,ï¿½ I said.

He grinned at me. ï¿½I can cause death with a touch and a word; I can heal with my hands for tonight. But damn, conjuring this many taxis out of thin airï¿½now, thatï¿½s impressive.ï¿½

We walked up to the line of waiting taxis, laughing. The drivers all seemed a little puzzled to find themselves Page 130

Laurell K. Hamilton: Meredith Gentry 05 Mistral's Kiss

in the middle of nowhere, waiting beside an empty beach, but they let us get in. We gave the taxis the address of Maeve Reedï¿½sHolmby Hills house, and they drove. They didnï¿½t even complain about the dogs. Now, that was magic.

ï¿½

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