"If Andais lets her power slip, then others will hurry to grab it up. I know that, Galen."
"How? How do you know that, when you've been away while it's all been happening?"
I sighed again. "If Andais's power has slipped so that her own son, Cel, would plot around her, if her power has deteriorated to the point where the sluagh are being used to police her court instead of being the ultimate threat that they should be, then everyone must be scrambling to pick up the pieces. And they will do their best to keep the pieces they grab."
Galen looked at me, uncomprehending. "That's exactly what's been happening for three years, but you haven't been there. How did you..." A look of astonishment showed, and then, "You had a spy."
"No, Galen, I had no spy. I don't have to be there to know what the court will do if the queen is weak. Nature abhors a vacuum, Galen." He frowned at me. He had no desire for power, no political ambitions. It was as if that part of him was missing; and because it was totally lacking in him, he did not understand it in others. I'd always known this about him, but I'd never realized just how profound his lack of understanding was. He couldn't conceive of me seeing all the puzzle without having seen all the pieces first. Because he couldn't have done it, he couldn't understand someone else doing it.
I smiled, and it felt sad. I went to him, touched his face with my fingertips. I needed to touch him to see if he was real. It was as if I'd finally realized just how profound his problem was, and knowing it, it seemed as if I'd never really known him at all.
His cheek was just as warm, as real, as ever. "Galen, I will negotiate with Niceven. I will do it because to leave one of my guards so crippled is an insult to me and all of us. The demi-fey should not be able to unman a sidhe warrior."
He flinched at that, gaze sliding away from me. I touched his chin, moved him back to look at me. "And I want you, Galen. I want you as a woman wants a man. I won't mortgage my kingdom to cure you, but I will do my best to see you whole."
A faint flush climbed up his face, darkening the green cast to his skin so that it was almost orange, instead of red. "Merry, I don't -- "
I touched my fingertips to his lips. "No, Galen, I will do this, and you will not stop me, because I am the princess. I am the heir to the throne, not you. You are my guard, not the other way around. I think I forgot that for a while, but I won't forget again."
His eyes looked so worried. He took my hand from his lips and moved it palm up. He laid a slow, gentle kiss upon my palm, and that one touch made me shiver.
He was so hopeless at the politics that to make him king would be almost a death sentence. It would be disastrous not just for Galen personally, but for the court, and for me. No, I could not have Galen as my king, but I could have Galen. For a brief time before I found my true king, I could have Galen in my bed. I could quench the fire that had been burning between us, quench it with the flesh of our bodies. As he lowered my hand from his mouth, the look in those pale green eyes was enough to make me want for a moment to mortgage my kingdom. I wouldn't do that; but I would do much to have those eyes looking down at me while I lay underneath him.
I gave his knuckles a quick kiss, because I didn't trust myself to do anything more. "Go, finish setting the table. I think the bread should be cool enough by now."
He smiled suddenly, a flash of his old grin. "I don't know ... it feels pretty hot from here."
I shook my head and pushed him half-laughing toward the kitchen. Maybe I could just keep Galen as the royal mistress, or whatever the male equivalent was. The sidhe had been around for several millennia, and surely there was court precedent for a royal lover somewhere in all that history.
Over dinner, we discussed what to do when Niceven called back.
Doyle had left a message that would let her know who had called. He was sure she'd be intrigued enough to call back, and he was also sure she'd know what we wanted. "Niceven has been anticipating this call. She has a plan. I don't know what that plan will be, but she will have one." Doyle was sitting on my right so that his body blocked me from the window. He'd made me draw the drapes, but allowed the window to be opened for the breeze.
It was December in California, and the wind through the window was delightfully cool, like late spring or very early summer in Illinois. By no stretch of imagination did it feel cold or wintry in the least.
"She is an animal," Galen said, pushing back his chair. He took his empty bowl to the sink and began to run water into it, his back to us.
"Do not underestimate the demi-fey because of what they did to you, Galen. They used teeth because they enjoyed it, not because they don't have swords," Doyle said.
"A sword the size of a straight pin," Rhys said, "not much of a threat."
"Give me a blade no bigger than a pin and I could slay a man," Doyle said, deep voice soft.
"Yes, but you're the Queen's Darkness," Rhys said. "You've studied every weapon known to man or immortal. I doubt Niceven's crew has been as thorough."
Doyle stared at the pale-haired man across the table from him. "And if it were your only weapon, Rhys, wouldn't you study how it could be used on your enemy?"
"The sidhe are not the enemies of the demi-fey," he said.
"The demi-fey, like the goblins, are tolerated, and barely that in the courts. And the wee-fey do not have the goblins' fierce reputation to protect them from the slings and arrows of mischance."
For some reason mention of the goblins made it hard not to look at Kitto. He hadn't sat at the table but had crouched underneath. He'd eaten his stew, then crawled to his oversize doggie bed. He seemed shaken by the afternoon at Maeve Reed's pool. Too much sun and fresh air for a goblin.
"No one harms the demi-fey," Frost said. "They are the queen's spies. A butterfly, a moth, a tiny bird can all be demi-fey. Their glamour is almost undetectable even by the best of us."
Doyle nodded around a mouth full of stew. He sipped a little of his red wine, then said, "All that you say is true, but the demi-fey were once much more respected in the courts. They were not merely spying eyes, but truly allies."
"With the wee-ones," Rhys said. "Why?"