Swallowing Darkness - Laurell K. Hamilton [51]
Sholto was right. There was no guarantee that I did not have enemies here in the sluagh. We thought I was safer here, but I’d had people from this faerie mound try to kill me too. It had simply been for a different motive. The hags, as in night hags, who had once been Sholto’s personal guard had tried to kill me out of jealousy. They were more than just bodyguards, as were my own guards, and the hags had thought that Sholto would forget them once he had his first taste of sidhe flesh. But the hags who had meant my death were dead themselves now. Two I had killed in self-defense. One had died at Sholto’s own hand, to keep me safe. There were still some among his court who feared that me being with their king would change them forever and take away what made them sluagh. That my magic would make them into a pale version of the Seelie. It was the same fear my aunt Andais, the Queen of Air and Darkness, felt among her own court.
So I walked behind the doctor with Sholto behind me. Even with Mistral’s life in our hands my safety was to be worried about. Would it always be that way? Would there never be safety inside or out of faerie for me now?
I prayed to the Goddess for safety, for guidance, and for Mistral. The scent of roses came gently to me. Then the scent of herbs followed. Thyme, mint, and basil, as if we walked upon strewn herbs, but a glance down showed that the floor was bare. In fact, it was the most cavelike of all the courts, all bare stone that looked more water-carved than hand-hewn.
“I smell herbs and roses,” Sholto said from behind me.
“As do I,” I said.
The corridor opened wider, and there were two cloaked figures before a pair of double doors. For a moment I thought they were night hags as his guard had been once before, but then they turned and looked at us, and the figures inside the cloaks were male. They were almost as tall as Sholto himself, pale and muscular, but there was some smoothness to their faces, lipless cuts for mouths, and oval, slitted eyes that held darkness like a cave.
“My cousins,” Sholto said. “Chattan and Iomhair.” The last time I’d seen his guard he’d added two uncles, but both had died defending him. I wondered if these two were the sons of those lost uncles, but I did not ask. It isn’t always good to remind someone that you (meaning I) were there when their fathers died. People tended to start blaming you if you were always around when people died. That one hadn’t been my fault, but if you can’t blame your cousin and king, I wouldn’t make a bad target for blame.
I greeted them, and they said, very formally, “Princess Meredith, you honor our sithen with your presence.” It was way too polite for sluagh society.
I answered automatically in a formal tone. Years of being at court had made it habit. “It is I who is honored to be among the sluagh, for you are the strong left hand of the Unseelie Court.”
They exchanged a look as we went through the doors. One of them, and they looked so alike I couldn’t be sure which, said, “It has been long since that title was given to the sluagh by an Unseelie royal.”
Sholto carried Mistral to the large bed on the far side of the room. I turned to answer the guard. “Then it has been too long since the sluagh were given their due by the Unseelie Court. I come here tonight seeking shelter and safety among the sluagh, not among the Unseelie or the Seelie. I come with your king’s unborn child in my body, and I seek safety here among his people.”
“Then the rumor is true? You bear Sholto’s child?”
“I do,” I said.
“Leave them, Chattan,” said the other guard, Iomhair. “They have wounded to tend.”
Chattan bowed, and closed the doors, but he watched me as he did it, as if it were important. I stood there and held his gaze, because there was weight to it. There were moments when I could feel not just magic, but also fate weave around me. I knew that Chattan was important, or that the small conversation we’d just had was. I could feel it, and it wasn