A Shiver of Light (8 page)

“Because he raped me?” I asked, and studied his face as I said it. It had taken me months to say the words that casually.

Rhys nodded. “Oh, for that, definitely for that.”

“Definitely,” Doyle said.

“Yes,” Galen said.

“If it would not cause war between the sluagh and the Seelie Court, yes.”

“I am too weak to ever harm anyone so powerful, but if I could kill him for what he did to you, I would,” Royal said.

The demi-fey that were still fluttering tiny and fragile-looking among the roses and blossoms in the room rose in a cloud of wings and said in small voices, “Command us, Merry, and we will do what you need.”

“Are you saying you would kill Taranis for me?”

“Yes.” They said it in unison like birds chirping a word all at once.

“Rid me of this inconvenient man, really?”

“Yes,” they sang again.

“No, I would not send so many of the demi-fey to their death. I do not want vengeance so badly that I would sacrifice all of you.”

“And that is why we would do it for you,” Royal said.

I shook my head. “No, no more deaths of those I value. I’ve lost too many people and seen too much blood spilled because of the madness of kings and queens.”

“Then what do you want us to do about him?” Rhys asked.

“I don’t know; if he loses his head and tries to come near me or the babies again, then we kill him. I won’t let him hurt me again, and I won’t let him near our children.”

“We kill him then,” Doyle said.

“If we can,” Rhys said.

“Oh, we can kill him,” Galen said, as if it were a matter of fact and not a nearly impossible feat.

“How can you be so sure?” Rhys asked.

Galen’s face wore that new harsher expression as he hugged our son. “Because if he comes for Merry and we don’t kill him, he’ll hurt her again, and we won’t allow that.”

“So we’ll kill him, because we have to,” Rhys said.

Galen nodded. “Yes.”

The men all looked at each other and then at me, and I saw the beginnings of a determination that could only end in one way. Taranis, King of Light and Illusion, was going to have to die.

THE TRIPLETS WERE
in the nursery with Doyle, Frost, and a handful of other guards watching over them while the nurses and doctors did last-minute things in preparation for going home. Galen, Rhys, and I were in the room trying to figure out how we were going to get everything else home. Flowers and other gifts had come from friends, but most of it was from strangers. The fact that Princess Meredith had had her babies had made the news, and America was thrilled to have their faerie princess have triplets! I appreciated the thought, but we were a little overwhelmed by their generosity.

“We’ll need a van just to cart all the flowers and presents home,” Rhys said. He stood in the middle of the room with his hands on hips, surveying all the bouquets, balloons, stuffed animals, potted plants, and gift baskets of food that filled most of the room. We’d started turning away some of the well-meaning gifts, because we needed to leave room for us and the medical personnel to use the room. The hospital had been much happier with the florist shop invasion than with the plants that were still growing in the room. The blooming apple tree curled above all of it. The treetop was pushed against the ceiling as if still trying to grow taller, as if it had come up against the sky and been surprised to find it solid and unforgiving. The nurses had asked if the tree was permanent, and I’d given the only answer I had: I didn’t know.

They were even less happy with the wild roses around the bed because they had thorns. Two nurses and a doctor had pricked themselves on the thorny vines.

“We’ve already given away a lot of it to other patients,” Galen said.

“Most of the stuffed toys should go to the children’s ward,” I said. I turned too fast to motion at the toys and had to stop and try a less dramatic turn. I felt good, but if I moved a certain way I could feel the stitches and the abuse my body had suffered to get our little trio on the outside. I was just happy to be in real clothes again. The sundress was designer maternity, one of the many gifts we’d had over the months that came with the words, “Just tell people what you’re wearing and it’s free.” Since we were supporting a small army of fey on not-large-enough salaries, we’d taken most of the gifts. The ones that didn’t come with contracts to sign, those we’d let our entertainment lawyers to look over.

We’d been offered a reality show. Did we want cameras following us around everywhere? No. Did we need the money? Yes. Which was why the entertainment lawyers were going over the contracts, but we had to decide today. The producers wanted it to begin with the babies coming home, so that meant that the film crew needed to either come to the hospital to start filming, or film us as we brought the babies into the house. We needed the money, but what would my relatives do on camera?

As if he’d read my mind, Rhys said, “I think the reality show is a bad idea, have I said that yet?”

“You mentioned it,” I said, still staring at the stuffed animals, some of which were nearly three feet tall. What would newborn babies do with such a thing? We’d leave them for older children who would love them and needed them more than our tiny ones. Bryluen, Gwenwyfar, and Alastair weren’t able to reach for things yet, let alone manage a forest of giant toys. The world was big enough to them right now without that.

“I agree with Rhys, but I know that Merry feels it’s wrong to expect Maeve to keep supporting all of us.”

“It’s an old tradition that when the ruler visited his nobles they were expected to entertain him, or her, and all their traveling court,” Rhys said. He picked up one of the potted plants and shook his head. I think he was thinking what I was thinking: We couldn’t possibly take all the plants home. It would be a full-time job just to water them all. Though some of the tiny winged demi-fey had picked a few of them to cuddle into; those we’d bring home.

“I’ve read that Henry the Eighth used that tradition to bankrupt rivals, or nobles he was trying to control,” I said.

“People make jokes about fat Henry, but he was a very good politician and understood the power of being king.”

“He abused that power,” I said.

“He did, but they all did. It’s hard to resist absolute power, Merry.”

“Is that from personal experience?” Galen asked.

Rhys looked at him, and then down at the piles of gifts. “Being a deity with worshippers does tend to make a person a little high-handed, but I learned my lesson.”

“What lesson is that?” I asked, and came up to wrap my arm through his so that I could rest my cheek against his shoulder.

He turned his head enough to smile at me, and said, “That just because people call you a god doesn’t make you one.”

A tiny and very female voice said, “You were the great god Cromm Cruach, and your followers healed all hurts.”

We looked at one of the winged demi-fey; it was Penny, Royal’s twin sister. She’d been fluttering among the flowers but now rose so she’d be head height for us. She had her brother’s short black curls, pale skin, and black almond-shaped eyes, but her face was even more delicate, her body a little smaller. She was wearing a gauzy red-and-black dress that looked very nice with her wings.

Rhys looked at her, face not happy. “That makes you very old indeed, little one, much older than I thought.”

“I had no wings then, because our Princess Merry had not worked her wild magic and made us able to fly. We wingless ones among the demi-fey went even more unnoticed than the rest; at least they were color and beauty, but those of us who had not been so blessed only watched from the grass and the roots of things. It gives a perspective that I might not have had if I’d been on the wing back then.”

“What perspective is that?” Rhys asked.

“To know that everyone starts on the ground. Trees, flowers, people, even the mighty sidhe must stand upon the dirt in order to move forward.”

“If you have a point, make it,” he said.

“You have no illusions about what and who you are now; you can make a life that is real, not some fantasy, but something true and good, just as a tree that puts down deep roots can withstand storms, but one with shallow roots is knocked over by the first strong wind. You have become deep-rooted, Rhys, and that is not a bad thing.”

He smiled then, nodding and squeezing my arm where I touched him. “Thank you, Penny, I think I understand. Once I built myself on power that was given to me by the Goddess and Her Consort, but I forgot that it wasn’t my power, so when we lost the grace of the Gods, I was lost, but whatever I am now it’s real and it’s me, and no one can take that from me.”

“Yes,” she said, hovering near Rhys’s face, her wings beating so quickly that the edge of his curls blew softly in the wind of her flight.

“Did I seem like I needed a pep talk to you?” Rhys asked.

“There is often an air of melancholy about you.”

I glanced from the tiny fey to Rhys and wondered, would I have thought that? Was that true? He joked a lot and made light comments, but … behind all of it, Penny was right. I found it interesting that she had paid that much attention to him. I thought of several motives for a female to pay that much attention to a man—did Penny have a crush on Rhys? Or was she just that wise and observant of all of us, of everything? If the first was true, then I doubted Rhys would realize it, and if the second was true, then hearing her thoughts on other things might be interesting.

“Penny, do you think we should do the reality show?” I asked.

She dipped down, which was a flying demi-fey’s way of stumbling. I’d surprised her.

“It is not my place to say.”

“I’ve asked your opinion,” I said.

She cocked her head to one side, then moved in the air so she was more in front of my face than Rhys’s. “Why ask my opinion, my lady?”

“It will affect you, as it will affect everyone who lives with us, so I am interested in what you think.”

She gave me a very serious, searching look. I saw the intelligence in that tiny face that I hadn’t seen before; she was as bright as her brother, but maybe a better thinker, deeper anyway.

“Very well. The queen is always very careful to look good in front of the human media, so if you did the reality show, then cameras might keep us all safe from her.”

“The queen is insane, she can’t help herself,” Galen said.

Penny looked at him, then back to me. “If that were true, then she would have lost her control at a press conference decades ago, but she never has; if she can control herself to that degree then she is not truly insane, she is simply cruel. Never mistake someone who cannot control their murderous impulses from someone who simply has no one to tell them, ‘Stop, behave yourself.’ I find that most cruel people, no matter how awful their actions, once faced with punishment, or someone stronger, behave. Mean is not crazy, it is merely mean.”

I thought about what Penny had said, really thought about it. “She’s right. My aunt has never lost control of herself in front of the media. If she were truly serial killer crazy, she’d have lost it at least once, but she never has, not that I remember.” I looked at Rhys and then at Galen.

They looked at each other, and then back at me. “Well, I’ll be damned,” Rhys said.

“Penny is right, isn’t she?” Galen asked.

I nodded. “I think she is.”

“The king also has never lost control in front of the media.”

“He attacked our human lawyers and us once before he kidnapped me,” I said.

“But there was no media to record it, Princess Merry. It is still a matter of witnesses, but no video or pictures.”

“I think that the king was honestly insane during that attack,” Rhys said. “His guard had to physically jump him, bury him under their bodies to keep him from continuing the attack.”

I shivered and cuddled into Rhys. Taranis had almost killed Doyle in that attack, and my Darkness was not an easy kill.

“If that is true, then a television show may not protect us from the king.”

One of the other demi-fey flew upward on tiny white wings with little black spots on them. She was even tinier than Penny’s Barbie doll size, as if she were trying harder to ape the butterfly she resembled. It was a Cabbage White, an American butterfly, which meant she’d likely been born here.

Her voice was high and musical, as if a trilling bird’s song could be words. “My sister is still in the Seelie Court. She told me that the king was enraged that you had slipped his seduction magic. He’d never had a woman except for the queen of the Unseelie Court escape from his spells.”

“Which is why he came for me later,” I said, softly.

The little faerie flew closer and laid a hand no bigger than the nail of my little finger on my hand. “But even then his magic did not work; he had to hit you with brute force like any human. He knows now that his magic does not work on you.”

“Did your sister hear him say that?” Rhys asked.

She nodded so hard that her pale blond curls bobbed.

“We think the king will not try magic again,” Penny said.

“We, you mean the demi-fey?” I said.

“I do,” she said.

The little one patted my finger, as I might have patted someone’s shoulder. “We are all sorry that he hurt you, Princess Merry.”

“That is much appreciated,” I said.

The little one flew up higher, her butterfly wings a blur of white as she hovered, but also showing agitation, nerves.

“Tell her, Pansy,” Penny said.

“Many speak in front of us as if we are dogs and can neither understand nor report to others,” Pansy said.

I nodded. “You are some of the best spies in all of faerie because of it.”

She smiled. “The king has decided that it was his magic you found objectionable, and he plans to try to woo you as a regular man might.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“It might mean that he would behave for the cameras as nicely as the queen,” Penny said.

“How long have you known this bit of information?” Rhys asked.

“Pansy only heard from her sister recently, and the gossip came up. Her sister did not realize the importance of it, or the use we might make of the information.”