As a child, I had thought the pillars one of the most lovely things in the world. Now I saw them for what they were, a stand-in for the real thing. The Unseelie Court even without the new magic had held the remnants of real roses. There had been a water garden in the inner courtyard with water lilies. Yes, it had also held a rock with chains fixed to it, so you could be tortured in a scenic setting, but there had been life in the court. It had been fading, but it hadn't faded completely when the Goddess began to move through me, through us.
In all the Seelie Court there was no life. Even the great tree in the main chamber was formed of metal. It was a thing of great artifice, amazing artistic achievement, but such things were for mortals. The immortal weren't supposed to be known only for their art. They were supposed to be known for the reality that the art was based upon. There was nothing real here.
The guards wore business suits. They looked more like secret service agents than Seelie nobles. Only their otherworldly beauty and eyes formed of rings of color showed them to be more than human.
Hugh held me a little closer. His hounds moved in front of me. I realized that they were tall enough to partially block me from the sight of the guards.
Lady Elasaid moved to the front of the group. She spoke in a ringing voice. "Let us pass."
"The king's orders are clear, m'lady. No one else is allowed into the press conference without his express permission."
"Do you not see the blessing of the Goddess before you?"
"We are immuned to illusion by the king's own magic."
"Do you see the fall of petals?" she asked.
"We see the illusion of it, m'lady."
I could not see what she did, but she said, "Touch them."
"The king can make illusion touchable, too, m'lady Elasaid."
I realized that they had seen lies so long that they no longer recognized truth. All was doubt for them.
The blond guard had stepped a little in front of us, helping the dogs hide us from view. He turned to Hugh and whispered, "Shall I call?"
Hugh gave a small nod.
I expected the guard to take out a hand mirror or use the shiny surface of his blade, but he didn't. He reached into the leather pouch at his side and took out a very modern cell phone.
I must have looked surprised because he said, "We have reception near this room. It's why we put the press in here."
It was perfectly logical. He moved back, and others moved, gracefully, to help hide him from the view of the guards before the doors.
He spoke quietly, "We are outside the doors with the injured princess. The guards will not let us pass."
One of the guards near the door said, "Go back to your rooms. None of you have any business here."
The blond guard said, "Yes, Yes. No." He folded the phone shut, placed it back in his leather bag, and took his post at our side. He whispered to Hugh, so quietly that even I couldn't hear it.
The group of nobles and their hounds bunched up around me. If it came to an actual fight with swords and magic, they had left themselves no room to maneuver, Then I realized what they had done. They were shielding me. Shielding me with their tall, slender bodies. Shielding me with their immortal beauty. Me, who they had once despised, and they were risking all they were, all they had ever been, to keep me safe.
They were not my friends. Most did not know me. Some had made it clear when I was a child that they did not like me. They found me too human, too mixed of blood to be sidhe. What had Taranis done to them to make them so desperate that they would defy him like this for me?
There was a stirring in the front of the glittering throng around me, almost the way a field of flowers moves in a strong wind.
I heard the guard near the door, his voice rough enough to recognize among all the sweeter voices. "You are not allowed farther into our sithen, sir, by order of the king."
"Unless you want to fight us, we are coming through this door."
I knew the voice. It was Major Walters, head of the special branch of the St. Louis Police Department that specialized in dealing with the fey. It had been an honorary title for years, until I came home. I didn't know how he'd gotten invited to a press conference, and I didn't care.
A second male voice came. "We have a federal warrant to bring the princess into protective custody." It was Special Agent Raymond Gillett, who had been the only federal agent who had kept in touch with me after the investigation of my father's death had gone cold. When I was younger I had thought he cared what happened to me. Lately I realized it was more about not leaving such a high-profile case unsolved. I was still angry with him, but in that moment, his familiar voice was a good sound.
"The princess is not here, officers," said a second guard. "Please go back to the press area."