She smiled. "Yes, you are."
Taranis's voice came from behind her. "Heal her!"
"I must first ascertain how badly injured she is."
"The Unseelie guard went mad. He tried to kill her rather than see her go with me. They would rather have her dead than lose her."
The healer and I exchanged a look. The look was enough. She put a finger to her lips. I understood, or hoped I did. We wouldn't argue with the crazy man, not if we wanted to live. And I wanted to live. I carried our children. I would not die now.
Frost was gone, but there was a piece of him inside me, growing, alive. I would keep it that way. Goddess help me, please, help me escape in safety.
A male voice that was not Taranis spoke from behind her, "Do you smell flowers?"
"Yes," the healer said, and she gave me another look that was too knowing for comfort. She motioned at the male voice and he stepped into view. He was tall and blond and handsome, and the epitome of Seelie sidhe breeding. Except that he didn't look arrogant; he looked nervous, maybe even a little afraid. Good. I needed him not to be stupid.
I whispered, "Goddess help me."
The scent of roses was stronger. A breeze played along my bare skin, made the sheets on my legs move with the touch of it.
The guard looked toward where the breeze was coming from. The healer looked at me. She smiled, even as her eyes looked too grave for comfort. She bore a look that you never want to see on a doctor's face.
"How hurt am I?" I spoke softly and carefully.
"There may be bleeding inside your head."
"Yes," I said.
"Your eyes are equal. That is a good sign."
She meant that if one of my pupils had been fixed, I would be dying. So that was good news.
She began to mix herbs from her leather bag. I didn't know what everything was, but I knew enough of herbal medicine to caution her.
"I carry twins."
She leaned close to me and asked, "How long?"
"A month, a little more."
"There are many things I cannot give you then."
"Can you not lay hands on me?"
"No healer in this court retains that power. Is it true that some in your court do?" She whispered the last into my ear, so close her breath moved my hair.
I whispered back, "True."
"Ah," she said, and leaned back. There was a smile on her face now, and a new sense of contentment that had not been there before. The scent of roses was stronger. I half expected the strong perfume to make the nausea worse, but instead, it eased.
"Thank you, mother," I whispered.
"Would you feel better if your mother was with you?" the healer asked.
"No, absolutely no."
She nodded. "I will do my best to see that your wishes are met."
Which probably translated to my mother being insistent. She had never had much use for me, but if I were suddenly going to be queen of the court she most coveted, then she would love me. She would love me with the same power that she had hated me with for years. She was nothing if not fickle, my mother. One of my names at the Seelie Court was Besaba's Bane. Because my conception from one night of sex had condemned her to be at the Unseelie Court for years. It had been the marriage that had cemented the treaty between the courts. No one had dreamt that if neither court was breeding, a "mixed" marriage might be fertile.
The hatred and fear of the Seelie for the Unseelie showed in nothing so much as the fact that with my birth, there had not been offers from the Seelie court for more union s. They would rather die out as a people then mix with our unclean blood.
Looking into the healer's face, I wasn't certain that all the Seelie agreed with that decision. Or maybe it was the scent of roses growing stronger. All the flowers and vines of Taranis's room, and there had been no scent. It had looked pretty, but… it wasn't real. I knew in an instant of clarity that it was like much about the Seelie Court: illusion.
Illusion you could see and touch, but it was not true.
The healer stood and whispered to the guard. He took up a post beside me. Two servants came and began to clean the mess I'd made. Trust the Seelie Court to be more concerned for appearance than truth. They would clean up the mess even before I was healed, or before they were certain that I could be healed.
One of the servants had a fresh cut on her cheek and the beginnings of swelling. Her eyes were brown, and her face, though pretty, looked too human. Was she like me someone of part human parentage, or was she one of the mortals lured into faerie centuries ago? They got immortality, but if they ever left faerie all their long years would catch up with them instantly. They were more trapped than any of us, for to leave faerie was true death to them.