“We could send you home and sign the papers for the reality TV show. That would bring in more money,” I said.
“No, we don’t want cameras in our house, not like that.”
“Then you’re the major breadwinner for our court in exile, Maeve. It behooves us to do as much as possible to help promote your career. The rest of us couldn’t earn what’s needed, especially not to live in the style to which you’re spoiling us. We could say yes to the reality show and bring in more money than we can from being private detectives,” I said.
“I earned thirty million dollars for my last film, Merry; I think I can afford you all, though admittedly the Red Caps eat more than I thought possible,” she said with a smile.
Frost didn’t hear the joke in her words. “They range from seven to thirteen feet tall and are big enough to fill out such frames. It takes fuel to make a warrior as big as an ogre run.”
She raised her smile and aimed it at him, but it wasn’t a flirting smile now, more the “isn’t he cute not understanding” smile. “I was making a slight joke, Frost.”
He frowned. “I did not think it was funny.”
“Nor I,” Doyle said.
She looked from one to the other of them, and then turned to me, laughing. “They can be so terribly serious sometimes.”
“If you want jokes, best turn to Rhys or Galen,” I said. I leaned my body back against Frost as I said it, letting him know I valued him, but it was true that humor was not the strong suit for my two main loves.
Frost wrapped his arm across the front of me, pulling me closer. I let Maeve’s hand go so that I could grip his arm with both of my hands, holding on and leaning hard against the solidness of him. It was as if the strength of him seeped into me just from him holding me this close. I loved him more and more every day, and took more comfort from his presence in my life. I’d lost him once, or thought I had, and it frightened me that I loved him even more now, because when I thought he was gone forever it had been a near-killing sorrow. I knew if I lost him now it would hurt even more, and that was frightening, but I couldn’t hold back from him either, because love can die from being withheld, like a flower that is so beautiful you hide it away from the sun trying to make it last longer; but every flower needs sun, and being in love requires risking yourself. It can require risking everything you are, not just in battle, but emotionally. Sometimes you have to risk it all to gain it all. I basked in the warmth of Frost’s love and let him feel mine.
He hugged me tighter and leaned down to place a gentle kiss on the top of my head, resting his cheek against me. “I love you, my Merry,” he whispered.
“And I love you, my Killing Frost.” I turned my head, rising so we could kiss. I’d purposefully waited to put on lipstick, because we all tended to kiss a lot, and we didn’t want to face the cameras with lipstick smeared across our faces like clown makeup.
“Seeing the two of you together makes me hope that I’ll find another love of my own life someday,” Maeve said.
Frost and I broke the kiss to look at Maeve. She had lost her human husband, the director who had discovered her back in the fifties, to cancer.
“I am sorry we could not save him, Maeve,” I said.
“Even the magic of faerie can’t heal a human that near death,” she said.
I started to go to her to hug her, but Doyle surprised us by moving toward her. He held out his hand. “I know what it is to lose someone you love, and all the magic in the world does not ease the loss.”
Maeve hesitated, then put her hand in his dark one. “All those years of seeing you stand beside the Queen of Air and Darkness, you were her Darkness, a bringer of blood and death; you gave no clue that you were actually a romantic.”
“And achingly lonely,” he said, “but neither was helpful as the right hand of the queen.”
“But you helped Merry give me a chance to have a child with my husband, and now I have Liam.”
“The magic that helped you grow fertile was Galen and Merry’s doing, none of mine.”
“You kept her alive long enough to do the spell, and that Galen could not have done,” Maeve said.
Doyle acknowledged it with a nod, and then Maeve moved slowly into him and put her arms around him. He was stiff and a little unsure, but he patted her as she hugged him almost as awkwardly.
There was a flash from the window behind us. Doyle moved so fast it was hard to follow, as if the gun had just appeared in his hand and was pointed at the window, as he moved toward it. Frost had shoved me behind him. He had a gun in one hand and a blade in the other.
Maeve yelled, “It’s a camera, Doyle; don’t shoot them.”
“Unless they can fly, it cannot be reporters,” he said. There was another flash of light. I couldn’t see past Frost’s body and knew better than to even peer around him. He was guarding me; I had to let him do his job, but I wanted to see, badly.
Doyle cursed. “Anu’s Breasts, they’re on window-washing equipment, two of them.”
“Well, someone has to work the controls while the other one takes pictures, or film,” Maeve said as if it were just an everyday occurrence. Maybe it was for the Golden Goddess of Hollywood, but we’d never had reporters climbing down the windows of a hospital before.
Doyle shut the curtains, cutting out the sunlight with them so the room was suddenly dim.