[Merry Gentry 04] - A Stroke of Midnight (28 page)

“Aunt Andais—” I started but she shushed me.

“I have heard whispers in the dark, niece of mine, whispers that I did not believe. But if the ring truly lives for you, if it has begun to choose fertile couples for you, then perhaps the rumors are true. Is Maeve Reed, once Conchenn among the Seelie, with child?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it. There had to be some among us who were spies for the Seelie Court. It would endanger Maeve to say yes, but Taranis had already tried to kill her. She was in another country now, as safe as we could make her. It was more dangerous not to answer, because we had told no one that Maeve Reed had been exiled from faerie because she had refused the king's bed on the grounds that he was sterile. Which meant that, unlike Andais, Taranis had known a hundred years ago that he was infertile. He had kept his throne and condemned his people to diminish and die rather than step down. The Seelie were within their rights to demand his death as a true sacrifice to the land for that oversight.

I'd thought too long, and Andais said, “Meredith, what is wrong?”

Frost squeezed my shoulder, Galen was very still beside me. I looked at Doyle, and he gave a small nod. Truth was the lesser evil. I whispered it. “Yes, she is with child.”

Andais was looking from me to Doyle, as if she longed to ask why I had hesitated so long, but she was a better politician than to ask. You did not ask a question in public to which you did not know the answer. “Answer so that everyone can hear you, niece.”

I had to clear my throat to make my voice carry through the hall. “Yes, she is with child.”

A sigh of murmurs ran through the assembled nobles.

Andais smiled, as if she was satisfied with the reaction. “Did you work a spell for her, a fertility spell?”

“Yes,” I said.

The murmur grew, swelling like the sea as it sweeps toward the shore.

“I heard her husband was dying even then, is that true?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Treatments for cancer can leave a man sterile or unable to perform.”

“Sometimes,” I said.

“But you managed a spell that got a dying man to perform one last time for her?”

“Yes.”

“Who played the part of the consort to your goddess? Who was god to your goddess for this spell?”

“Galen.” I pressed his hand against my chest, as I said it.

The ocean of murmurs burst upon us in a confused babble. Cries, almost shouts. Some did not believe it. I heard at least one male voice that I could not quite place say, “That explains it.” I would ask Doyle or Frost if they recognized the voice later.

Andais looked at Kieran still standing bound at the foot of the steps. “I slew Galen's father before I, or the noble lady who brought complaint of magical seduction, knew she was pregnant. You almost slew a warrior who had helped work magic to create life in the womb of a sidhe woman and a dying human.”

Kieran looked confused, as if he was thinking very hard. “I would say I do not believe it, but you have spoken too much truth today, my queen, for me to doubt this. And you do not like Galen enough to lie to save him.”

“We never lie, Kieran.”

He bowed. “I meant . . .”

“I know what you meant.” She leaned back against her chair, almost cozily, like a cat settling in. “What did Cel's people tell you that made you agree to do this traitorous thing?”

I expected Kieran to argue, or fight her, but he simply answered. “That the green man would bring life to her.” He nodded at me, since he could not point.

Andais looked at Dormath. “And what did Siobhan tell you?”

“That the green man would return life to the land of faerie.”

Kieran's face showed his panic. He tried to fall to his knees, I think to bow lower, but hands caught him, kept him on his feet. “That is not what I was told, my queen, I swear it. I would never destroy a chance for our court to be brought back to what we were, never.”

“Dormath,” she said, “explain to Kieran the wording of the prophecy that Prince Cel paid the human psychic for.”

Dormath bowed to her, then said, “The green man will bring life back to the land of faerie. The ruler is the land, and the land is the ruler. Their health, their fertility, their happiness, is the health, the fertility, and the joy of the land itself.”

“Well put, Dormath, and very true. If you killed Meredith's green knight, and he was destined to be the king who brought back children to the sidhe, then what would you have done to us, Kieran, Madenn?” She didn't wait for them to answer. “By killing him you would have destroyed all our hopes and dreams.”

“But it is Mistral and Meredith who have begun to awaken the dead gardens, and the magic of the guard. He was with her when the ring chose Nicca and Biddy,” Kieran said. “It is Mistral who sits in the consort's throne, not the green knight.”

“True enough, and perhaps the ring has chosen the storm lord to be her king. I myself interpreted the term ‘green man' to mean any of our green gods, but perhaps I have been too literal. Green man can be another name for god, or consort.” She shook her head. “I do not know for certain. I do not know if it is irritating or reassuring that prophets still speak in riddles even in this very modern America.” She turned to me. “Go help Nicca and Biddy make the child you saw. But abide by my rules; if I find you have given him first to Biddy, I will be cross. But take Galen and one other green man to your body this night, as well.”

“What of the traitors, Aunt Andais?” I asked.

“You go try and make babies; I will tend to them. I will give you a united court, Meredith. It will be my first and last gift to you.” She put a hand in front of her face and said, “Leave me, take the guards who are green men with you, but leave me the ones who are not.”

Frost's hand tensed on my shoulder, and I must have made some small sound of protest, because she looked up at me. She glanced at Frost and Doyle, and anger filled her eyes. “Take your Darkness and the Killing Frost. They are yours, but I will need some of the guards to help me punish the traitors.”

“And Biddy and Nicca,” I said quietly.

She waved her hand impatiently. “Yes, yes, now go.”

Frost's hand eased up on my shoulder. He gave a small nod. I got up, bowed to the queen, and we moved toward the doors, leaving her to punish the traitors. She probably wouldn't kill them, but she'd make sure they regretted their actions. Of that, I had no doubt. I shouldn't have looked back, but I did. I saw Crystall, Hafwyn, Dogmaela, and others try to control their faces. Mistral and Barinthus were among the unreadable.

I stopped. Frost grabbed my shoulder, and Galen still had my hand. They tried to get me moving again, but I balked. I couldn't save everyone, I knew that, but . . .

Doyle didn't try to stop me, he simply looked at me with his impassive face. He would give me room to rule. I spoke with Frost and Galen's hands tight against me. The tension in Frost's hand was almost painfully tight.

“May I take a healer with me, my queen, just in case there are any more emergencies? We sent for a healer when Galen was injured but the healer never arrived.”

She nodded, but her attention was already fixed on her victims. She stood above Kieran, one hand idly stroking the blond hair that he had so carefully braided back behind his head. “Yes, take any but my own healer.”

“Hafwyn,” I said.

She couldn't keep the relief off her face as she started across the floor.

The queen called after her. “Meredith, if you wish a healer you must take one who still has their powers.” She actually put her hands on her hips as if she was impatient with me.

“Hafwyn healed Galen and Adair.”

She was looking at me now, paying attention. “Healed them how? She lost her ability to heal years ago.” She managed to look both irritated and relieved. “She is one you brought back into her powers tonight.”

“No, my queen, Hafwyn has always been able to heal with the laying on of hands.”

“I was told that she had lost her ability to heal,” the queen said.

“Hafwyn,” I said, “did you ever lose your ability to heal?”

She shook her head without turning around to face the queen, as if she was afraid to look away from me, or afraid to look back.

“Then why is she a guard?” the queen asked. She came down the steps, and I felt everyone around me tense. We could have left, gotten away, and I was putting us all at risk. But for the first time ever Andais seemed willing to hear awful truths about Cel. I wasn't sure how long this new mood would last, and there were things that would happen only when she was willing to believe Cel was a monster.

“She healed someone Prince Cel had forbidden her to heal. He told her that from that day forward she would bring death only, and no longer be allowed to heal.”

Andais glided across the floor toward us, her dress making a hissing sound. Hafwyn paled. “Is this true, Hafwyn?”

The guard swallowed hard and turned around to face the queen. She dropped to one knee without being asked or told. “Yes, Queen Andais, it is true.”

“You had the ability to heal grievous wounds by touch and he forbade you to use your gift?”

Hafwyn kept her face down, but answered, “Yes.”

Andais looked at me. “She is yours, but I cannot allow you to strip Cel of all his guards. Even a queen cannot help another sidhe break their vows of loyalty and service.”

“Hafwyn breaks no vow coming to me, for she made no vow to Prince Cel. I am told that many of the prince's guard made no new vows to Cel.”

Something passed through Doyle's eyes that let me know he at least understood why this was worth the risk.

Andais frowned at me. “This cannot be true. Cel offered my brother's guards a chance to join his service after Essus's death. They made vows to serve Cel.”

Hafwyn abased herself lower on the floor, but said, “My queen, Cel told us you gave us to him. He did not ask our permission or if we wished to serve him. He told all of us that our vows had been made to a prince, and he was a prince.”

“He said you all chose to serve him,” Andais said in a voice gone hollow with surprise.

Hafwyn kept her face pressed to her hands on the floor, but she answered. “No, my queen.”

Andais looked at Biddy. “Did you give your vow to Cel?”

Biddy shook her head. “No, and he never asked for it.”

Andais turned back toward the throne. “Dogmaela, did you give oath to Prince Cel?”

“No, my queen,” she said, eyes wide, and face a little frightened.

Andais screamed, a loud, sharp, inarticulate scream that seemed to hold all her frustration. “I would never have given my brother's guard to anyone, not even my own son. All those who did not make oath to Cel are free to choose to leave his service.”

“Are we free to offer our service where we wish?” Hafwyn asked, her head raised just enough to look up at the queen.

“Yes, but if you wish to go to the princess's service my order stands. To serve her, you must truly serve her in the way that the guard has always served my blood and my house.”

It was Biddy who said, “Prince Essus did not force us to serve him and only him.”

Andais looked at her, and shook her head, then looked at me. “What would you do with your guards if I allowed it?”

“I would free the women of the celibacy since, as you pointed out, they cannot get me pregnant. After I am with child and know who the father of my child would be, I would free the men from their celibacy, as well.”

“And if you never get with child?”

“Then I would keep those I preferred in my bed, and let the others find lovers. A half-dozen men, give or take a few, is enough for me, I think.”

“And what if I said that any you did not keep must come back to me?”

“You told me once that you made the celibacy rule because you wanted their seed for yourself, but if you cannot be pregnant, then why not let them see if there are other women in the court they could get with child?”

“So fair, so evenhanded, so like Essus.” She gave us her back and began to walk toward her throne. “Take the guards you have around you and go. And know this, your ill truths will make our traitors' punishments all the more fulsome. For my anger will need flesh and blood to be stilled.”

To that there was only one thing to say. “I will go and do as you have bid, Aunt Andais.” I bowed to her back, and we got Hafwyn to her feet and left. I did not need anyone's urging to know that I had pushed her about as far as she'd be pushed this night. We left her caressing Kieran. The last sound we heard before the doors closed behind us was Madenn's scream. I started to look back but Frost and Galen had too firm a grip on my arms. There would be no more looking back tonight.

CHAPTER 26

THERE WAS A STORM OF BUTTERFLIES OUTSIDE THE DOOR TO MY
room, as if someone had broken a kaleidoscope and thrown the colors into the air, and those colors had stayed, floating, whirling. For a moment I didn't see the tiny hands and feet, the gauzy dresses and loincloths. I saw only what their glamour tried to show me. A cloud of insects, rising like beauty itself into the air. I had to blink hard and concentrate to see them for what they truly were. Galen pulled back against my hand, stopping all of us just short of that rainbow cloud.

Galen's reaction made me remember another time when I'd seen such a cloud of the demi-fey. Galen had been chained to the rock outside the throne room. His body was almost lost to sight under the slowly fanning wings of the demi-fey. They looked like butterflies on the edge of a puddle, sipping liquid, wings moving slowly to the rhythm of their feeding. But they weren't sipping water, they were drinking his blood. Galen had shrieked long and loud, his body arching against the chains. The movement dislodged some of the demi-fey, and I glimpsed why he was screaming. His groin was a bloody mess. They were taking flesh as well as blood.

Galen's hand tightened painfully around mine. I looked up at him now, and found his eyes a little too wide, his lips half-parted. I knew now why Cel had bargained with the demi-fey to try to ruin Galen's manhood. At the time it had simply seemed like another of his cruelties.

The kaleidoscope of butterflies and moths parted curtain-like, and Queen Niceven hovered in midair on large pale wings like some ghostly luna moth. Her dress sparkled silver; the diamonds in her crown were so bright in the light that the dazzle of it obscured her narrow features. I knew what she looked like because I'd seen her thin, near skeletal beauty before. Though only the size of a Barbie doll, she was thin enough for Hollywood. Looking at her all asparkle and pale white, I understood why people had thought the fey were spirits of the dead or angels. She looked like both and neither. Too solid to be a ghost, too insect-like to be an angel.

If Galen hadn't been clinging to my hand I would have moved forward to speak with her, one royal to another, but I couldn't ask him to go closer to that pretty, bloodthirsty cloud. Doyle saw my dilemma, and went forward, to bow before her. “Queen Niceven, to what do we owe this honor?”

“Pretty words, Darkness,” she said, and her voice was like evil, tinkling bells, “but a little late, don't you think?”

“A little late for what, Queen Niceven?” he asked in his polite, empty court voice. The voice that he used when he didn't know what political storm he had fallen into.

“For courtesy, Darkness, for courtesy.” She flew a little higher so she could see me better over Doyle's tall form. “Now I am not even good enough for the princess to address me directly.”

I called to her, as Galen's hand convulsed around mine. “You know full well why Galen doesn't want to come closer to you and your kin.”

“And are you attached to your green knight? Are you one with him in flesh, so that you cannot come closer without him coming, as well?” She'd moved her head to one side, and I could see her pale eyes now. She wasn't even trying to hide how angry she was. I'd seen her crown a thousand times, and never seen the jewels catch the light so brilliantly. Only then did I realize that the light in the hallway was brighter than normal, closer to the brightness of electric lights.

“See, she pays no attention to us. The roof of the hall holds more interest for her than my court.”

I blinked and looked back to the flying queen. “My apologies, Queen Niceven, the brilliance of your crown quite dazzled me. I have seen your beauty many times, but it has never been so eye-catching as tonight. It made me realize that the light in this hallway is finally bright enough to do you and your finery the justice it deserves.”

“Pretty words, Princess Meredith, but empty ones. Flattery will not wipe away the insult you have laid against me and my court.”

I had no idea what she was talking about. Was I so tired that I had forgotten something important? For I
was
tired, an aching tiredness that comes after being up too long, or after too many things happen in too short a space of time. I had no idea what time it was. There were no clocks in faerie. Once it had been because time moved differently here than outside. Now there were no clocks allowed because they would work. Just another reminder that faerie wasn't what it used to be.

“What insult has been done to your court?” Doyle asked.

“No, Darkness, she did the insulting, let her do the asking.” Her wings looked like some great moth, but they did not move like moth wings, not when she was angry. They blurred and buzzed as she flew past Doyle to hover in front of me.

Galen pulled back so hard, I stumbled against him. He caught me automatically, but that put him closer to the tiny hovering fey. He seemed to freeze against me, his arms pinning mine.

Niceven hissed, flashing tiny needle-like teeth, and darted in. I think she only meant to land on my shoulder, but Frost put his arm in her way. He didn't try to hit her, but her guard reacted, flying toward their queen. They descended on us like a swirl of rainbow leaves, with tiny pinching hands, and sharp biting teeth.

Galen yelled and threw up a hand, turning so that he used his own body as a shield against them. He started to run, but he tripped and fell, landing on the ground with me underneath him. He caught himself with one arm so that I didn't take his full weight. My face ended up buried in the rich green smell of crushed leaves. I opened my eyes and found myself nearly buried in greenery. I thought for a moment that Galen and I had been transported, but my fingers found the bareness of the hallway stone underneath. I looked at the far wall, and saw the other guards still standing around us. Plants had sprung from the naked rock.

Galen had curled himself over me, shielding me with his body. He was still tense and waiting for the first blow. A blow that did not come. I turned enough to see his face, his eyes screwed tight. He had given himself over to one of his greatest fears to protect me. He hadn't seen the flowers yet, but the others had.

Niceven's voice hissed, “Evil sidhe, evil, evil sidhe. You have bespelled them.”

“Interesting,” Doyle said, “very interesting.”

“Most impressive,” Hawthorne said, “but whose work is it?”

“Galen's,” Nicca said.

Galen's body had begun to relax above me. He opened his eyes, and I watched his puzzlement as he looked at the plants that had filled the hallway. “I did not do this.”

“Yes,” Nicca said again, in a voice that was very certain, “yes, you did.”

Galen raised up on one arm, so that he was half sitting above me. He turned and looked behind us, and whatever he saw covered his face in astonishment. I sat up and looked, too.

Flowers filled a small space of hallway. The winged demi-fey were cuddled into those flowers, rolling in the petals, covering themselves with pollen. They were reacting like cats to catnip.

Queen Niceven hovered above them untouched by the call of the flowers. Less than a handful of her winged warriors were at her side. All the others had fallen to Galen's flowers. It was an enchantment, that much I understood, but beyond that I was as lost as the look on Galen's face.

“He's the only one who has not had new power manifest.” Frost poked at one of the nodding blossoms with the tip of his sword.

“Well,” Doyle said, gazing at the flowers and the drugged demi-fey, “this is certainly manifested.” He grinned, a quick flash of teeth in his dark face. “If his power continues to grow he could do this to human, or even other sidhe, armies. I had almost forgotten that we ever had such nice ways to win battles.”

“Well,” a voice said from behind us, “I leave for a few minutes and you've planted a garden.” It was Rhys, back from escorting the police outside the sithen. Nicca told him what had happened. Rhys grinned at Galen. “What is this, the hand of flowers?”

“It's not a hand of power,” Nicca said. “It's a skill, a magical skill.”

“You mean like baking or doing needlepoint?” Rhys asked.

“No,” Nicca said, not rising to the joke, “I mean it is like Mistral's manifesting a storm. It is a manifestation, a bringing into being.”

Rhys gave a low whistle. “Creating something out of nothing. The Unseelie haven't been able to do that in a very long time.”

Galen touched one of the largest cupped blossoms, and it spilled a tiny demi-fey out into his hand. He jerked as if he'd been bitten, but he didn't drop the delicate figure. A female dressed in a short brown dress, with her brown and red and cream wings fanned out on either side of her as she lay on her back in his hand. She was tiny even by demi-fey standards. Her entire body did not fill Galen's palm. She lay almost completely limp, a smile on her face, her eyes rolled back into her head. Her body was covered in the black pollen of the flower she'd crawled into. She wasn't just drunk, she was passed out, happy-drunk.

Galen looked more and more puzzled. He gazed up at Doyle, half holding the little fey up to him. “For those of us under a century, what in the name of Danu is going on? I didn't do this on purpose, because I didn't know it was possible. If I didn't know it was possible, then how could I have done it at all? Magic takes will and intent.”

“Not always,” Doyle said.

“Not if it is simply part of what you are,” Frost said.

Galen shook his head. “What does that mean?”

“Maybe we should save the magic lessons for later,” Rhys said, “when we're more alone.” He was looking at the tiny queen who was still hovering above us, gazing at her fallen army.

“Yes, white knight, keep your secrets from me,” she said, “for the princess has broken the bargain she made with me. My people are her eyes and ears no longer. We serve Prince Cel once more.”

I got to my feet, careful not to step on the demi-fey who were passed out in and among the flowers. That would be bad on so many levels. “I did not break our bargain, Queen Niceven; you took Sage away. He could not take blood if he was not allowed near me.”

She buzzed to hover in front of my face, her white wings moving in a blur of speed that would have shredded true moth wings. I knew from Sage that that blur meant she was angry.

“I bargained for a little blood, a little sexual energy to come to my proxy, and thus to me. I did not bargain for him to be made sidhe. I did not bargain for him to lose the use of his wings. I did not bargain for him to . . .”

“Be too big for your bed,” I said.

“I am married,” she said, and that last word sounded like a curse. “I have no lover save my king.”

“No, and because you cannot have your favorite lover, you forbid him the pleasure of anyone else.”

The wind from her wings played along my hair, buffeted my face. The air was cool, though her anger was not. “What I do with my court is my business, Princess.”

“It is, but you accused me of breaking our bargain, and I did not. I am still willing to offer a taste of royal blood to you.” I held my hand out slowly, gently, offering her my upturned wrist. I did not want another misunderstanding. “Do you wish to take the blood personally? You sent Sage as your proxy because the Western Lands are far from faerie, but now I am here.”

She hissed at me like a startled cat and buzzed high into the air above me. “I would not taste your sidhe flesh for all the power in the world. You will not steal my wings from me.”

“But Sage was always able to change to a human size. You are not, so you can't get stuck in a larger size.”

She hissed again, shaking her head, sending rainbow dazzles to dance around the walls, on us, and the flowers. “Never!”

“Then choose another proxy,” I said.

“Who would take such a risk?” she said.

A small voice came. “Someone who has no wings to lose.”

I looked down until I saw a cluster of demi-fey against the far wall. None of them had wings, but they had other means of transport. Carts pulled by sleek, cream-colored rats, and one dainty chariot that had more than a dozen white mice tied to it. There were two ferrets with multiple tiny riders, one the standard black mask, the other an albino with white fur and reddish eyes. A Nile monitor that was nearly four feet long had two of the larger riders. The monitor was not only harnessed but muzzled like a dog that you're afraid will bite. Nile monitors could be vicious and ate anything small enough to catch and kill. If I'd been the size of a Barbie doll, I wouldn't have wanted one anywhere near me.

Movement on the wall brought my attention to the fact that there were tiny many-legged demi-fey clinging there. Some looked like tiny spider centaurs, eight legs combined with a rounded fey body hidden under a sway of gauzy cloth. One looked like a black beetle, so like that only staring showed the pale moon of a face under the insect camouflage.

“I spoke,” said one of the men in a rat-drawn cart. There was a woman in the cart with him. She was pulling on his arm, trying to stop him from waving. “No, Royal, no,” she said, “don't do it. There are worse things than not having wings.”

He let go of the reins that led to a lovely rat, and grabbed the woman's arms. “I will do this, Penny. I will do this.”

Penny shook her head. “I don't want to lose you.”

“You won't lose me.”

“I will if she makes you sidhe.”

“I have no other size, Penny. She can't trap me in human size the way she did Sage, because it's not one of my abilities.” He hugged her to him, petting her short dark hair, and looked up at me. His hair was short and black, and just under his bangs were two long graceful antennae, as black as his hair. His eyes were large and almond-shaped, and a perfect blackness like Doyle's, or Sage's come to that. His skin was very white in contrast to all that darkness. The woman turned her head to gaze up at me, and she, too, had long graceful antennae. It was rare for any of the demi-fey to have antennae, but for those without wings it was doubly surprising.