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.
CHAPTER SEVEN
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.”