A Stroke of Midnight (Merry Gentry #4)(41)

“But how do you get a man to touch you, Meredith? By making them want you.”
It made sense, though frankly Melangell was beautiful enough without the extra lure.
He leaned in and I thought he would kiss her, but she pushed backwards as far as Hawthorne would let her go. “Don’t touch me,” she said.
“You said my power had faded, Melangell. Why fear my touch if I am but a ghost of what I was? Why does Cel want Galen out of Meredith’s bed?” He grabbed her face between his hands, and she screamed, though not in pain. “I am willing to test my magic against yours, Melangell.” He kissed her, long and lingering.
Frost had tensed beside me. Which meant that once even a kiss from Melangell had been a dangerous thing. That I had not known. Dangerous indeed.
Aisling drew back, and her face was raw with need. “My sweet, tell me, why does Prince Cel want Galen out of Meredith’s bed?”
She swallowed hard enough that I heard it across the room, but she answered, “The prophecy said the green man would bring life back to the court.”
“What prophecy?” Aisling asked.
“Cel paid a prophet to tell him if Meredith would be a true threat. She would bring life back to the court with the help of the green man and the chalice. Galen was the only green man that she took with her. When we saw what she did at the press conference, we knew that he was her green knight.” 
“Has it occurred to any of you that green man is a metaphor for vegetative deities, or even another name for the consort?” I asked.
Melangell ignored me, but when Aisling asked the same question, she answered, “Prince Cel said the prophecy meant Galen.”
“And do you believe everything Cel tells you?” I asked. When Aisling repeated the question, she answered, “Yes.”
“Fool,” Hafwyn said from behind us.
“What else did the prophecy say?” Aisling asked.
“That if someone of flesh and blood sat on the throne, Cel would die.”
“What did he think ‘flesh and blood’ meant?”
“Mortal.”
“You all must have been frantic when the princess returned with flesh and blood as her hands of power.”
“Yes,” Melangell said.
“Is there anything else Cel has done that we should know about?” Aisling asked, and I made a mental note that he was a thorough man.
She bent forward as if in pain. Hawthorne had moved back, as if he wasn’t comfortable touching her. His power was not similar to either of theirs, so maybe he was in danger of being bespelled by Melangell. Whatever the reason, when her hands moved, the cloth that tied them unwound, and since Hawthorne was turned away, he did not see it. Aisling went for his sword, but he was kneeling and at a bad angle. Her hands came up, and she clawed her eyes out while we watched. Only when blood and wet liquid ran down her face did she stop.
“You cannot force more secrets from me now,” she said, and her voice was full of her usual rage.
Aisling let his half-drawn sword go back into its sheath. “Melangell, you cannot unsee me. I told you that.”
I couldn’t tell if she was crying or if it was just pieces of her eyes. “The sight of your shining face will be the last thing I will ever see. I hate you for this, but I cannot regret it.”
“Oh, Melangell,” he said, and he touched her face.
She laid her bloody, drenched cheek against his hand the way a lover would. She let him cup her face for an instant, then she drew away from him, and said, “Take me to the queen, take me to a cell, I care not. But take me away from him.”
Hawthorne drew her to her feet and rebound her hands, checking the knots. “What do you want me to do with her, Princess?”
“It is my right to be taken before the queen,” Kieran said.
“Yes, it is, but it is not her right. If Cel were free, then we would take her to him, but . . .” I shook my head, and looked away from her ravaged face. “Frost.” I buried my face against his chest. “Frost, I don’t know what to do with her.”
“Take her to a cell. Tell Ezekiel she is not to be touched until he hears further from the princess.”
“What of Kanna?”
“Take her, as well.”
“The lords?”
“Take them to the queen, see what she does with them.”
He assigned different guards to the duty. He sent Dogmaela along with the lords. She spoke to me as she pushed Kieran past me. “I am not a lover of women.”
It was such an odd comment that I just answered it, “Neither am I.”
“But Hafwyn . . .”
I realized then that while we’d been trying to solve the mystery of Galen’s assassination attempt, and Cel’s treachery, that she had been worrying about her virtue. She wanted to be free of Cel, but not badly enough to lie with a woman. To be free of Cel, I would have slept with things that had never even been human, and never would be. I knew a lesser evil when I saw it. Looking into Dogmaela’s face, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I still had visions of Melangell’s eyes dancing inside my head. I’d probably have nightmares about it.“I will bed Hafwyn and anyone else who wishes to come with me, not because I am a lover of women, but because I would not leave anyone in Cel’s power if I could save them. Now take Kieran before the queen and report truthfully and fully about his crimes.”
She went, and the others went with her, two of the guard carrying the still unconscious Lord Innis between them. He left a trail of fresh blood as they vanished around the corner.
Aisling had his golden veil wrapped around his face and hair again. The bloody cut on his side was almost healed.
“You gained from using your power,” I said, my face still half-hidden against Frost’s chest.
“I gained from besting her at her own game, yes. Once she was almost a match for me.”
“She has lost much of who she was,” Frost said.
“Once she was Sweet Poison.”
I wanted to ask him if he was upset about what Melangell had done. Didn’t it bother him that a woman had torn her own eyes out rather than look upon his face? But I didn’t say it out loud, any of it. I had asked him to do it. It was my responsibility. To say that I hadn’t understood was no defense. You did not use magic that you did not understand because of shit like this happening. I buried my face against Frost’s chest, so I could not see Aisling, even in his veil.
He laughed, a deep, rich masculine sound. “I was called Terrible Beauty.” But his voice said he was pleased with himself.
I wanted to say I didn’t understand, but I didn’t. It wasn’t a good enough excuse anyway.
CHAPTER 22

MAJOR WALTERS, THE POLICE, THE CSU TECHS, AND DR. POLASKI, the medical examiner, had nothing but complaints. Their laptop computer wouldn’t work. Their cell phones didn’t work. Nothing they had with them that used electricity, or even batteries, worked. Was that me screaming earlier, and why had I been screaming Galen’s name? Glamour hides a multitude of sins, and both Galen and I were good enough to hide the blood. As long as no one touched us, and found that the cloth felt tacky with blood, we were fine.
“We weren’t certain what would happen to your modern tech down here. I’m sorry it’s not working,” I said. I wanted to avoid the screaming issue altogether, but I didn’t want him angry at me. Police do not like to be fucked with, especially if they’ve just, maybe, pissed off all the local feds on your behalf. No matter how much Walters had enjoyed my handing Marquez his hat, it still might make life difficult for him.
“There are things inside the sithen that are frightening. One of them almost attacked Galen. It scared me, that’s all.” I turned, hoping to get away from Walters and his questions. I just wasn’t up to word games at that moment. Melangell’s face kept coming back to me. Frost’s assurance that her eyes would grow back if she were allowed to be in faerie and not in the Hallway of Mortality was small comfort if she couldn’t be cured of a hopeless obsession with Aisling. We had stolen something from Melangell if she couldn’t cure herself of the love. 
Walters grabbed my arm. I hadn’t expected him to touch me. “Princess Meredith, what aren’t you . . .” His voice trailed off because the arm he grabbed was tacky with the blood that covered it. He jerked me nearly off my feet, and my concentration was simply not good enough. Frost moved in to protect me, but the glamour slipped. Walters got a flickering look at what I was hiding.
He looked past me at the others, and they were all busy trying to do their jobs, collecting evidence with none of their gadgets working. He didn’t let go of my arm. “We need to talk,” he said, his voice surprisingly calm.
“In private,” I added.
He nodded.
Frost said, “Let go of the princess.”
“It’s all right, Frost.” I led the way around the corner and a little way down the hall. Shiny white marble with veins of gold and silver was replacing the grey stone where Mistral and I had made love. It was as if something that we had done was changing the very nature of the sithen. The queen would not be pleased, but one problem at a time.
When we were alone except for my ring of guards, he said, “Show me what I’m feeling, Princess, because it’s not the same thing I’m seeing.”
Should I have tried to trick him? Maybe, but I was tired of games. We still didn’t know where Amatheon had disappeared to. The chalice had gone AWOL, and who knew when and where it would reappear. The only reason I had had Frost with me when I suddenly materialized in the other hallway was that he had grabbed me when I started to fade. But for that, I would have appeared alone, unguarded, in the middle of the fight.