A Caress of Twilight (Merry Gentry #2)(24)

"Preparing for bed," I said. Though I wasn't 100 percent sure of that
Delicate grey brows furrowed. "It is, what... nine o'clock where you are. The night is young to waste in sleeping."
"I did not say we would sleep." I kept my voice even.
She drew a deep enough breath that I could see the rise and fall of her dainty chest. She tried to keep her attention on me, but her gaze kept flicking to the men. Rhys was working Doyle's thick hair free of the braid. I'd seen Doyle with his hair free of that braid only once. Only once had it been like some dark living cloak to shroud his body.
Niceven watched them furtively, giving me very little eye contact. I wasn't sure if it was Doyle's hair or Rhys's nudity. I doubted the nudity, because being nude just wasn't that unusual among the court. Of course, maybe she was gazing at Rhys's washboard abs, or what lay just below them.
Frost sat up, took off his suit jacket, and began to slip out of his shoulder holster. Her eyes flicked to him.
"Niceven," I said softly. I had to repeat her name twice more before she looked at me. "How do I cure Galen?"
"It is not certain that you will be queen, and if Prince Cel becomes king, then he will hold it ill that I helped you."
"And if I am queen, I will hold it ill that you did not."
She smiled. "So I must find a way between the two snarling dogs. I will help you here, because I have already helped Cel. It will even things up."
I remembered Galen's screams, and the pain in his eyes these last months, and I didn't think it evened things up. I didn't think fixing what she'd ruined came close to evening things up. But we were doing faerie politics here, not therapy, so I said nothing. Silence is not a lie. A sin of omission, but not a lie. Our cultures allow you to omit as much as you can get away with.
"How is Galen to be cured?" I asked.
She shook her head, making her curls bounce and her diamond tiara glitter. "No, we talk price first. What would you give me to make your green knight whole?"
Frost and Doyle moved up beside me almost simultaneously. "You will have the goodwill of the Queen of the Unseelie, and that should be enough," Frost said, his voice as cold as his name.
"She is not queen yet, Killing Frost." Niceven's voice was full of a cold, cold anger. It had the taste of an old grudge. Was it personal to Frost?
I saw Doyle begin to reach toward the other man, and I stopped him with a look. There was a tension between them tonight. It wouldn't make us look strong to argue amongst ourselves. Doyle stayed at my side, only his eyes looking at Frost. The look was not friendly. 
I touched Frost's arm, squeezing slightly. He startled, muscles tightening, looked first to Doyle, then realized it was my touch. He'd expected it to be Doyle. He relaxed, slowly. He let out a deep, quiet breath and moved a fraction behind me.
I turned back to the mirror and found Niceven's face shrewd, watchful. I half expected her to say something, but she did not. She merely sat and waited for me to commit myself.
"What would Queen Niceven of the Diminutive Fey want from Princess Meredith of the Unseelie Court in return for curing her knight?" I'd purposefully put both our titles in the same sentence, emphasizing that I knew she was queen and I was not. I was hoping to make up for Frost's outburst.
She looked at me for a few heartbeats, then gave a very small nod. "What would Princess Meredith of the Unseelie Court offer us?"
"You said once that you would give much for a longer drink of my blood."
She looked startled before she could school her face to courtly blankness. When she could control herself, she said, "Blood is blood, Princess. Why should I care for yours?"
Now she was just being difficult. "You said that I tasted of high magic and sex. Or have you forgotten me so quickly, Queen Niceven?" I made my face fall, my eyes downcast. "Did it mean so little to you?" I shrugged, and let my newly shoulder-length hair fall across my face. I spoke behind a curtain of hair that sparkled like spun rubies. "If the blood of the heir to the throne means nothing to you, then I have nothing to offer." I turned my eyes toward her, knew the effect that those tricolored green and gold eyes could have through a frame of blood auburn hair, coupled with glimpses of skin like polished alabaster. I'd grown up among women, and men, who used their beauty like a weapon. I would never have dreamed of doing it with another sidhe, because they were all more beautiful than I, but with Niceven and her hungry eyes that followed my men, with her, I could use my own other-worldliness as she'd tried to use hers.
She slapped her tiny hand on the arm of her chair hard enough to startle the white mouse. "By Flora, you are your aunt's blood. Prince Cel has never mastered his beauty as Andais has, and as you have."
I gave a small bow, because it's always hard to bow from a sitting position. "A pretty compliment from a lovely queen."
She preened, smiling, petting the mouse, leaning back in her chair so that her sheer dress showed off more of her body. Her body had gone past slender into cadaverous, so that it was like looking at a little starved thing. But she thought her body was beautiful, and I could show nothing less in my face.
Frost stayed unmoving a little behind me. He'd removed his belt, his shoulder holster, his suit jacket, but nothing else. Even his shoes were still on. He was not going to strip for Niceven.
Doyle on the other hand had removed his shoulder holster, his belt, and his shirt. The silver ring in his left nipple glinted so that Niceven could see it, even in profile. Rhys continued to work at all that thick black hair as if he were smoothing out the train of a dress.
The men moved about me like ladies-in-waiting preparing themselves for bed. They left me alone to deal with Niceven. Which meant I was doing all right on my own. Good to know.
I flashed her a curve of lips as red as the red, red rose, no lipstick needed. "A drink of my blood to cure my knight, you agree?"
"You give your own life's fluid away very freely, Princess." She was being cautious.
"I only give that which I own."
"The Prince thinks he owns all the court."
"I know that I own only the body I inhabit. Anything else is hubris."
The Queen laughed. "Will you come home so that I may feed?""Do you agree that another feeding is worth my knight's cure?"
She nodded. "I agree."
"Then what would a feeding once a week be worth?"
I felt the men behind me tense. The atmosphere of the room was suddenly thicker. I was careful not to look at them. I was princess, and I didn't need the permission of my guards to do anything. I either ruled, or I did not.
Niceven's eyes narrowed into pale little flames. "What's that supposed to mean, a feeding once a week?"
"It means exactly what I said."
"Why would you offer to make a weekly blood offering to me?"
"For an alliance between us."
Frost pushed toward me over the bed. "Meredith, no..."
He was going to say something unfortunate and ruin everything. I had the beginnings of an idea and it was a good one. "No, Frost," I said, "you do not tell me no. I tell you no or yes. Don't forget that." I gave him a look that I hoped he understood, which was shut the fuck up, and don't ruin this.
He closed his mouth into a tight, thin line, so obviously unhappy, but he sat there, sulking. At least he was quiet about it.
I heard Doyle take in a breath, and I just looked at him. The look was enough. He gave a small nod of his head and let Rhys begin to brush out his long hair. There was a wave to all that blackness, because of the braid, I think; I remembered Doyle's hair as straight. I was distracted for a moment watching Rhys kneeling so pale and perfect against all that darkness. It was Doyle clearing his throat who made me jump and turn back to the mirror.
Niceven laughed, the sound of just slightly off-key bells, as if it were something lovely that had been just a bit malformed.
"My apologies for my inattention, Queen Niceven."
"If I had such a bounty awaiting me, I would make this a short conversation."
"And what if you had the bounty of my blood awaiting you? What then?"
Her face sobered. "You are persistent. It is most unfeylike."
"I am part brownie, and we are a more persistent people than the sidhe."
"You are part human, as well."
I smiled. "Humans are like the sidhe; some are more persistent than others."
She didn't smile back at me. "For another drink of your blood, I will cure your green knight, but that is all. One drink, one cure, and we are done."
"For one drink of my blood, King Kurag of the goblins became my ally for six months."
Her delicate eyebrows raised. "That is goblin and sidhe business, and none of ours. We are the demi-fey. No one cares who we ally ourselves with. We fight no battles. We challenge no duels. We mind our business and everyone else minds theirs." 
"So you refuse an alliance?"
"I think caution is the better part of valor here, Princess, no matter how tasty you may be."
In negotiations, always try to be nice first, but if nice doesn't work, there are other options. "Everyone leaves you alone, Queen Niceven. Because they consider you too small to worry about."
"Prince Cel thought us big enough to spoil your plans with the green knight." Her voice held the first hint of anger.
"Yes, and what did he offer you for that bit of work?"
"The taste of sidhe flesh, knight's flesh, and blood. We feasted that night, Princess."