Swallowing Darkness - Laurell K. Hamilton [108]
Rhys kept my hand in his, running his thumb over my knuckles repeatedly. He could grin all he wanted, but touching like that was a nervous gesture.
“Do you remember the task you gave Galen and me in the hospital?” he began.
I nodded. “I gave you Gran’s body to take home.”
“Yes, and you conjured sidhe horses for us to ride on that journey.”
“Sholto and I called them into being, not just me,” I said.
Rhys nodded, his eyes flicking past me to Doyle. “We heard rumors that you’d been crowned queen of the sluagh.”
“It is true,” Doyle said, “and married by faerie itself.”
Rhys’s face fell; such sorrow came over him that he suddenly looked old. Not old the way a human will, for he would always be boyishly handsome, but as if every day he had lived, every hard ounce of experience was suddenly etched into his face, spilling into his one blue eye.
He nodded again, biting his lower lip, and took his hand back from mine. “Then it is true.”
I took his hand back into both of mine, cradling his in my lap. “I have already had this talk with Sholto. I am not monogamous, Rhys. All the fathers of my children are dear to me, and that is not going to change, no matter how many crowns I wear.”
Rhys looked not at me but at Doyle. The big man nodded. “I was there for her talk with the king of the sluagh. He did make noises about her being his queen alone, but our Merry was very…firm with him.” There was the faintest hint of humor to that last.
I glanced at Doyle, but his dark face was impassive, and gave nothing away.
“But once faerie has chosen a spouse, then….” Rhys began.
“I think we are going back to very old rules,” Doyle said, “not the human ones we adopted some centuries ago.”
“The Seelie adopted human rules, but the Unseelie, it wasn’t about human rules,” Rhys said.
“No,” Doyle said, “it was about our queen seeking an heir for her throne whom she did not think would destroy her kingdom. At some level I think she has always known that her son was flawed. I think that is one of the reasons she sought a second babe for herself so desperately.”
Rhys held my hands back, squeezing. “There are those in our kingdom right now who want Merry on the throne.”
“How did Prince Cel take that bit of news?” I asked.
“Calmly,” Rhys said.
Doyle and I both stared at him. “He was mad as a hatter when we last saw him,” Doyle said.
“He was ranting about killing me, or forcing me to have a child with him so we could rule together,” I said.
“He was as calm as I’ve seen him in years,” Rhys said.
“That is bad,” Doyle said.
“Why is that bad?” I asked, trying to read his face in the dimness of the Humvee.
Rhys answered, “Cel may be crazy, Merry, but he’s powerful, and he still has a lot of allies among the Unseelie. His serene demeanor pleased the queen, which is probably what he wanted. He doesn’t want to be blamed if something happens to you.”
“Onilwyn would not have tried to kill me or Mistral without orders from Cel,” I said.
“The prince is blaming the Seelie traitors that you all killed. He says that they must have offered Onilwyn a return to the Golden Court.”
“The prince lies,” I said.
“Maybe, but it is plausible,” Rhys said.
“It might even be true,” Doyle said.
I looked at him. “Not you too?”
“Listen to me, Merry. Onilwyn knew that Cel was not going to live to see the throne. He also knew that you detested him personally. What would his life have been like in the Unseelie Court with you as queen?”
I thought about what he’d said. “I don’t know what the Unseelie will be like after I’m on the throne. There are nights when I think I’ll never live to see the throne.”
Doyle hugged me one-armed; Rhys squeezed my hands. “We’ll keep you safe, Merry,” Rhys said.
“It is our job,” Doyle said, with his mouth against my hair.
“Yes, but now my bodyguards are precious to me, and injury to you is like a wound to my heart.”
“It is the downside to dating your bodyguards,” Rhys said.
I nodded, settling against the solid, muscled warmth of Doyle, and drew Rhys in closer. I wrapped them around me like a second cloak. “Cel has been