his waist, pressing my body against the warmth of his back. He went very still under my touch, then slowly his hands came up to slide along my arms. He hugged my arms against his body. I cuddled my cheek against the smooth warmth of his back. It was the closest to a hug that I'd gotten from him in weeks. He'd found any interaction painful, in more than one way.
He began to pull away and I tightened my grip. He could have forced me away from him, but he didn't. He just stood there and dropped his hands from mine. "Merry, please." His voice was so soft.
"No," I said, holding him tight, tight against me. "Let me contact Queen Niceven."
He shook his head, sending his braid spilling against my face. The scent of his hair was sweet and clean. I remembered when his hair had draped to his knees like most of the high-court sidhe. I'd mourned when he cut it.
"I will not let you put yourself in that creature's debt," he said, and his voice held a solemnity that was so unlike him.
"Please, Galen, please."
"No, Merry, no." He tried to push me away again, but I wouldn't let go.
"And what if there is no cure without Niceven's help?"
He put his hands on my arms, not to caress this time but to pry them apart so he could move away. Galen was a sidhe warrior; he could punch holes through the sides of buildings. I could not hold him if he would not be held.
He moved into the mouth of the narrow kitchen, out of my reach. He would not look at me with his pale green eyes. He studied the painting on the dining room wall: a picture of butterflies in a grassy meadow. Did the butterflies remind him of the demi-fey, or did he even see the painting? Or was it simply better to look anywhere than at me?
I'd been begging Galen's permission to go to Queen Niceven and find out what she'd done to him. He'd forbidden it. He didn't want me to put myself in her debt just to help him. I'd tried pleading, crying, which I think on anyone else would have worked, but he had held firm. He would not be responsible for me owing Niceven and her demi-fey a debt.
I stood there staring at him -- that beautiful body that I had loved since I was a child. Galen had been my first crush. If he was healed, we could cool the heat that had been between us since I hit puberty.
I realized suddenly that I'd been going about this all wrong. Kitto had told me that Doyle thought I was just going to fuck everyone and not use the power I'd gained. He wasn't just referring to the goblins. Was I the future queen of the Unseelie or not? If I was to be queen, what was I doing asking anyone's permission for anything? Who I put myself in debt to was none of Galen's business. Not really.
I turned away from Galen, back into the room. The rest of the men were watching us. If they'd been human, they would have pretended not to watch, been reading magazines, or pretending to, but they were fey. If you did something in front of the fey, they watched. If you wanted privacy, you wouldn't be doing it where they could see you; that was our culture.
Only Kitto was missing, and I knew where he was, in his oversize, fully covered cloth dog bed. It was like a small, snug tent. It sat in the far corner of the living room positioned so he could watch the television, which was one of the few technological wonders that Kitto seemed to appreciate.
"Doyle," I said.
"Yes, Princess." His voice was neutral.
"Contact Queen Niceven for me."
He simply bowed and went for the bedroom. It was the largest mirror in the apartment. He would try to contact the demi-fey first through the mirror as you would contact another sidhe. It might work, it might not. The demi-fey didn't stay inside the faerie mounds very much. They liked the open air. If they weren't near a reflective surface, the mirror spell wouldn't work. There were other spells to try, but he would start with the mirror. We might get lucky and catch the little queen flying by a still pool of water.
"No," Galen said. He took two quick strides, not to me, but to Doyle. He caught the other guard's