A Shiver of Light (Merry Gentry #9)(23)

“You cannot be kind and rule the sidhe, or the goblins, or the sluagh, or anyone inside or out of faerie. Kindness is for children and human fairy tales.” 
“Kindness where possible is not a weakness,” Doyle said.
“In a queen it most certainly is,” she said.
“You have seen Merry on the battlefield; do you think her kindness made her less ruthless, or less dangerous, my queen?” he asked, and his voice was lower, crawling down into those vibratingly low tones that had frightened me once. Now it made me shiver for a different reason, a much more fun reason, because three things make a man’s voice lower, and all are testosterone based—heavy exercise, violence, and sex.
“Do you think it is wise to remind me that I watched her slaughter my son in front of me?”
“Do you think it wise that you reminded Frost of the loss of his first love?”
“Frost cannot punish such impudence as I can,” she said.
“And there you go again,” Rhys said.
She looked back at him. “What are you talking about?”
Eamon moved beside her and spoke low and clear, in the kind of voice you use to calm wild animals or talk jumpers off ledges. “My queen, my beloved, he means that if you keep threatening punishment they have no reason to share your nieces and nephew with you. Your brother’s grandchildren are before you; do you want to be a part of their lives, or do you prefer to be the Queen of Air and Darkness, frightening and unyielding to all insults?”
“I have already offered to give up being the Queen of Air and Darkness if Meredith will but take the throne.”
“So you would rather be Aunt Andais to Essus’s grandchildren than queen of all?”
She seemed to think about it for a moment or two, and then she nodded. “Yes, to see my bloodline continue, to have three descendants of our line who are already displaying such power, for that I would step down.”
It wasn’t just descendants, but powerful, magical descendants. She’d already seen the lightning mark on Gwenwyfar’s arm and watched it spark at Mistral’s touch. Alastair had displayed no overt talent as the girls had done, but she seemed willing to take it for granted that he, too, would be powerful. If any of our children proved without magic, by her standards, she would still see them as useless, as not worthy, as she’d decided with me when I turned six and she tried to drown me.
Eamon laid his hand over hers, cautiously. “But, my beloved, it’s more than stepping down from the throne; Meredith and her consorts want to feel safe around you, and at this moment, they do not.”
“They should not. I am the Queen of Air and Darkness, ruler of the Unseelie Court. The fact that people fear me is part of the point, Eamon; you know that.”
“For ruling our court, perhaps, and for keeping the Golden Court in check, absolutely, but my love, perhaps being frightening is not the best way to be Great-Aunt Andais.”
She frowned at him as if she didn’t understand the words, The words made sense, she could hear them, but I wasn’t certain she could grasp their meaning.
She finally said out loud, “I don’t understand what you mean, Eamon.”
He tried to pull her into his arms as he said, “I know you do not, my love.”
She pushed away from him. “Then explain it to me, so I will understand.”
“Aunt Andais,” I said.
She looked at me, still frowning, still not understanding.
“Do you regret the loss of Tyler?”
“I said so, didn’t I?”
“You did.”
“Then what are you talking about, Meredith?”
“Will you regret not being Aunt Andais to our children?”
“I am their aunt, Meredith; you cannot change that.”“Perhaps not, but I can decide whether you are aunt in name only, or whether you actually have a place in their lives so they know who you are in a pleasant way; or will you be on the list of people that we warn them about? Do you want to be a bogeyman to your nieces and nephew? If you see your Aunt Andais, run. If she comes for you, call for help, fight back. Is that the legacy you want in their lives?”
“They could not fight me and win, Meredith; even you could not.”
“And that is not the point of what I said; the fact that you think it is means you are not welcome here.”
“Do not make me your enemy, Meredith.”
“Then apologize, Aunt Andais.”
“For what?”
“For reminding Frost of past pain, for trying to frighten Kitto, for every threat, every hint of pain and violence you’ve spoken since this conversation began.”
“A queen does not apologize, Meredith.”
“But an aunt does.”
She blinked at me. “Ah,” she said, “you want me to be some cheerful relative that comes with gifts and smiles.”
“Yes,” I said.
She smiled, but it was an unpleasant one, as if she’d tasted something bitter. “You want me to be other than I am around your children?”
“If by that you mean pleasant, kind, and just a normal aunt, then yes, Andais, that is what I want.”
“It is not their heritage to be any of those things.”
“My father, your brother, thought otherwise, and he raised me to be all those things.”
“And it was love and kindness that got him killed, Meredith. He hesitated, because he loved his killer.”
“And perhaps if you had raised your son, as my father raised me, to be kinder, considerate, happy, then neither of them would be dead right now.”
She startled as if I had slapped her. “How dare you …”
“Speak the truth,” I said.
“So I must be this false self, this fiction of a cheerful, smiling auntie, or you will try to keep me out of the lives of my nieces and nephew?”
“Yes, Aunt Andais, that is exactly what I mean.”
“And if I said there is always darkness through which I can step and visit as I will, what would you say?”
Doyle said, “I would say that if it is death you seek, come unasked, unbidden, unannounced, and we will grant that wish.”
“You dare threaten me, my own Darkness.”
“I am no longer your anything, my queen. You cared for me not at all except as a visible threat by your side—‘Where is my Darkness, bring me my Darkness’—and then you would send me to kill on your behalf. I have a life now, and a reason to keep living, beyond just the fact that I do not age, and I will let nothing stand between me and that life.” 
“Not even your queen,” she said, voice soft.
“Not even you, my queen.”
“So either I concede to your ridiculous demands or I lose all contact with the babes.”
“Yes,” I, Doyle, Frost, and Rhys said at the same time. The others nodded.
“Once I would have threatened to send my sluagh to the Western Lands and find you, or the babies, and bring all to me, but now the King of the Sluagh stands by your side and no longer answers to me.”
“You sent me to the princess, my queen.”
“I sent you to bring her home, not to bed her. You I did not choose for her.”
“You gave her the choice of all your Raven guards, and I am that, as well as King of the Sluagh.”
She looked at me, and there was threat and anger, and everything I wanted to keep away from our babies in her face. “You have stripped me of most of my threat, Meredith. Even the goblins answer to you now, rather than to me, and that I did not intend. That was your doing, niece of mine.”
“Essus, your brother, made certain I understood all the courts of faerie, not just the Unseelie. He wanted me to rule all, if I ruled any.”
She nodded and looked thoughtful, the anger gone as if she could not stay enraged and think at the same time, and that was probably truer than was pretty to think about.
“You are right, Meredith; it was you who bargained with the goblins so wisely, and you who seduced the sluagh to your side, and you who won the loyalty of my Darkness, and my Killing Frost. I did not see you as a threat to my power, but only as a pawn to be used and discarded if it did not serve me, and now here we are with you more powerful than I ever envisioned, and that is without a crown upon your head.”
“I did not have your magic to protect me, aunt; I had to find power where it was offered for it was not within me.”
“You wield the hands of flesh and blood, niece; those are formidable powers on the battlefield.”
“But if all I depended on was my magic, then I would not have Doyle, or Frost, or Sholto, or the goblins, or any of what I have won. I have killed only to save my life and the lives of those I love. My ability to kill, no matter in what horrific way, is not where my power lies, aunt.”
“And where does your power lie, niece?”
“Love, loyalty, and when forced being utterly ruthless, but it is kindness and love that have won me more power than any death I have dealt.”
She made a face, as if she smelled something bad. “Your hands of power may be Unseelie Court magic, but you are so”—and here she rolled her eyes—“the descendant of all those bloody fertility deities in the Seelie Court. Love and kindness will win the day, oh yes, oh my, my ass.”
“The truth is in the results, aunt.”
“I have ruled for over a thousand years; kindness and love will not see you rule for that long.”
“No, because I shall not live that long, Aunt Andais, but my children will and their children.”