Лорел Гамильтон - A Stroke Of Midnight

“Why do you smile?” Doyle asked.

“Because the thought does not hurt.” I went to them, and touched fingertips to both their faces. “The thought of losing the two of you… that is like a wound through my heart.” I cupped their cheeks but was careful not to touch Frost’s face with the ring. I wanted to touch them without the magic interfering. Doyle’s skin was actually warmer than normal for humans, had been since the night he’d rediscovered he could shapeshift into animal form. Frost’s skin was a little cooler than normal for humans. It wasn’t always so, but often he felt cool to the touch. I’d first noticed it in Los Angeles after he, too, had found some of his godhead through the chalice’s power.

I held them, hot and cold, light and dark, and wondered if there truly was a man in faerie who would make me forget them, and turn love-blinded eyes to someone else. I valued this love that we had built slowly over weeks and months. It had taken effort and trust, and I knew that even if all the magic in the world died, I would still love them. And after what they had shown me tonight, I thought they would still love me as well.

I moved their faces until they touched, so I could lay a kiss half on one and half on the other. I bent over them with my face between theirs. I whispered the truth against the silk of Frost’s hair, and the warmth of Doyle’s skin. “To have you in my bed for the rest of my life, I would give up faerie, the throne, all that I am, or all that I might be.”

Doyle’s arm found me first, but Frost followed, and they pulled me to my knees, enveloped me against their bodies, pressed me hard and safe against them. Doyle spoke with his face pressed to the top of my head. “If there were anyone else worthy of the throne, I would let you.” He laid his cheek against my hair. His grip was almost painful in its fierceness. “For the scent of your hair on my pillow I would trade my life, but I have served this court too long to give it into the hands of Cel.”

Frost’s hands trailed down my body, idly tracing the edge of my hip under the pants I’d put on. “The stories the prince’s guards have told…” He shivered, hands convulsing against my body.

I pushed away enough to see their faces. “I thought the guards were too terrified of Cel to tattle on him.”

Doyle pulled me in against them again, but turned me so that I half sat and half lay against their laps. “Some of the prince’s guard have access to human newspapers and magazines,” Doyle said. “They have noticed that your guards seem to be having a much better time than either the Queen’s Ravens or the Prince’s Cranes.”

“I still can’t get used to hearing them called Cranes. That was my father’s bird, his guard.”

“Many of them belonged to Essus’s guard,” Frost said. He held my hand in his. “They were simply given to Cel after Essus’s death.”

“Were they given a choice?” I asked. At the time, the least of my worries had been my father’s guard, for had they not failed him? Had they not allowed him to be killed? Now I wondered how many of them would have dropped their vows as royal guard if they’d been given a chance.

Doyle cupped the side of my face, brought my attention to his face. “It was your sending for the other men last night that has sent some of Cel’s birds to speak to us about life under him.”

“Why did that loosen their tongues?”

“It showed that you cared for all your guard, not just the ones you like. Such caring is not something the Cranes have seen in many a year.”

I could feel Frost’s body shudder against mine. “I thought what we endured by the queen’s hand was bad enough…” He shook his head. “Such stories.”

“We cannot give the court over to him, Meredith,” Doyle said. “I believe him truly mad.”

“Being imprisoned and tortured isn’t going to improve that,” I said.

“No,” he said.

“Tell her the rest,” Frost said.

Doyle sighed. “You remember that the queen allowed Cel’s need to be slacked by one of his guards.”

I nodded. “Yes, and that night there was an attempt on both my life and the queen’s.”

“Yes, but we are still not absolutely certain Cel ordered it. It could simply have been those loyal to him moving in desperation to rescue him before he goes so mad that everyone sees him for what he is.”

“You think the nobles would refuse to follow him?”

“If he tried to do to the court what he has done to his guard, yes,” Doyle said.

I settled back in the curves of their bodies, fur and leather. “What has he done?”

“No, Meredith,” Doyle said, “perhaps later when we have the luxury of time and hours to go before we would sleep. None of it is comforting bedtime stories.”

“We have a murder investigation; trust me, we won’t see sleep for hours,” I said.

“What you need to know,” Doyle said, “is that he has fixated on you.”

“Fixated how?” I asked.

They exchanged another look. Doyle shook his head. But Frost said, “She needs to know, Doyle.”

“Then tell her. Why must I always be the bearer of such news?”

Frost blinked at him, and fought not to show on his face what he and I were thinking. We hadn’t known that bringing bad news bothered Doyle. He had been the Queen’s Darkness, and the Darkness could speak hideous truth and be unmoved, or so it had seemed. It was as if the one outburst had stripped Doyle of some part of himself.

Frost said, “As you will then.” He looked down at me. “He called one of the women guards by your name and swore that if his mother is so determined to have you with child, it will be his seed in your body.”

I looked into that handsome face, and wanted to ask if he were joking, but I knew he was not. It was my turn to shudder. “I would rather die.”

“I’m not certain he would care,” Doyle said softly.

“What do you mean by that?”

“One of the lesser fey died during one of Cel’s rapes.” Doyle sighed again, and a look came into his eyes I hadn’t seen often—fear. “He liked that she died during the sex. He continued to rape her corpse until her body became quite decayed.”

I felt the blood drain from my face.

“Or so his guard say,” Frost said.

“You saw their eyes, do you truly believe they lied?”

Frost let his breath out in a long sigh, and shook his head. “No.” He bent over me, hugging me, burying me beneath a spill of silver hair. “I am sorry, Meredith, but we felt you needed to know.”

“I was afraid of Cel before,” I said.

“Be more afraid now,” Doyle said. “Someone like that cannot be handed the keys to the Unseelie Court, especially now that power seems to be returning to us. With power, we are more dangerous. Too dangerous to be given over to a madman.”

“Power returns because of Meredith,” Frost said.

“Yes, but once power is reborn in the sidhe, it will be like a gun. It will not care how it is used.”

“The Goddess may abandon us forever if the power is misused,” I said.

“I thought as much, but think of the damage we could do before she took back her new gifts.”

We sat on the floor and contemplated new possibilities for even larger disasters. Doyle hugged me tight, then stood up, and shook himself like a dog. He settled the leather coat around his tall frame, and said, “I thought to keep the news of Cel and his new madness until after we had brought the police inside, but…” He slid the dark glasses over his eyes, so that he was the tall, dark, inscrutable Darkness. Only the silver shine of his earrings gave him color. “We will escort you to the police and the FBI. I am sorry for losing control as I did, Princess, and for delaying us further.”