We were finally inside the stretch limo. Abe was already lying on his stomach on the main seat. Doyle sat in one of the side seats, stiffly upright. I moved to sit with him, but he motioned me toward Abe. “Let him rest his head in your lap, Princess.”
I frowned at him, wanting to ask why he was pushing me away. My expression must have asked for me, because he said, “Please, Princess.”
I trusted Doyle. He had to have his reasons. I sat on the end of the big seat and eased Abe’s head into my lap. He rested his cheek against my thigh, and I stroked the heavy weight of his hair. I’d never seen it braided before, like a Goth version of a candy cane, black, gray, and white. I guess they’d had to keep his hair away from the wound on his back somehow.Frost sat on the seat opposite Doyle. Galen moved to take a seat, but Doyle said, “Take the second SUV. Rhys will take the first. We have too many guards who know only faerie. Be their modern eyes and ears, Galen.”
Rhys patted him on the back. “Come on.”
Galen gave me an unhappy look, but he did as he was told.
It was Frost who said, “We need Aisling in here.”
“And Usna,” Doyle said.
Frost nodded as if that made sense to him. It didn’t to me, not yet. But then I hadn’t had centuries of battle to get me past that shock and disorientation that seemed to follow like a fog.
The door shut, and we had a few minutes while Rhys and Galen fetched the men they had asked for. “Why them?” I asked.
“Aisling was exiled from the Seelie because their sithen, their faerie mound, recognized him as the king in this new land, not Taranis,” Doyle said. His voice sounded normal, not even a hint of tightness. Only his arm in its sling tied tightly to his chest and the bandage across his face showed what his voice should have held.
“So he needs to know that Hugh is trying to give away his kingdom,” I said.
“No,” Abe said from my lap. “It is not Aisling’s kingdom now.”
“But the sithen used to choose the ruler,” I said.
“Yes,” Abe said, “as the Lia Fail stone did once for the kings of Ireland. But the sithen can be a fickle thing. It liked Aisling more than two hundred years ago. He’s not the same man who was exiled. Time has changed him. The Seelie mound may not want him now.” Abe’s voice sounded tired, trailing off around the edges.
I put my hand against his cheek. That one small touch made him smile.
“Usna’s mother is still a favorite at the Seelie Court,” Frost said, “and she still speaks to her son.”
“So Usna might know if Hugh was part of a plot to get rid of Taranis,” I said.
Frost nodded. Doyle said, “Yes.”
I looked at both their faces, so distant and cold. It reminded me of the way they had been when they first came to me. Why were they being like this? I was royal, so I shouldn’t show weakness by asking. But I was also in love with them, so while there was only Abe to witness it, I asked, “Why are you both being so distant?”
They exchanged a look, and even through the bandages on Doyle’s face I didn’t like that look. It promised nothing that I would want.
“You are not with child, Meredith,” Doyle said, voice still so controlled. “You are beginning to make it clear that you have chosen us. But if you are not pregnant then we are not your king. You must look at the other men with more favor.”
“You get badly hurt and you go all crazy on me,” I said.
Doyle tried to turn his head and look directly at me, but apparently that hurt too much, so he had to turn his whole body. “It is not crazy. It is sanity. You must not give your heart where your body does not go.”
I shook my head. “Don’t make decisions for me, Doyle. I am no longer a child. I choose who comes to my bed.”
“We fear,” Frost said, and he didn’t look happy saying it, “that your caring for us is making it difficult for the other men.”
“I’m sleeping with them. Considering that we’ve only been back a few weeks, I think I’ve given them plenty of attention.”
Frost gave a small smile. “Sex is not all that a man craves, even after a thousand years of abstinence.”
“I know that,” I said, “but I only have so many hearts to give.”
“And that,” Doyle said, “is the problem. Frost told me how you behaved when I was injured. You cannot play favorites, Meredith, not yet.” A look of pain crossed his face, but I didn’t think it had anything to do with his injuries. “You know I feel the same, but you must be with child, Meredith. You must, or there will be no throne, no queenship.”
Abe spoke, his hand resting on my leg beside his head. “Hugh didn’t say Merry had to breed to be queen of the Seelie. He just offered her the throne.”
I tried to remember exactly what Sir Hugh had said. “Abe’s right,” I said.
“Perhaps magic is worth more to them than babies,” Frost said.
“Perhaps,” Doyle said, “or perhaps Hugh plays some other game.”
The limo door opened, and we all jumped, even Doyle and Abe. Abe allowed himself a small pain sound. Doyle was silent, only his face showing the pain for a moment. By the time Usna and Aisling had climbed into the car, it was back to its usual stoic expression.
The two new men found seats. Usna sat beside Frost, Aisling beside Doyle. Doyle said, “Tell them to drive.”
Frost hit the intercom button. “Take us home, Fred.”
Fred had been driving for Maeve Reed for thirty years. He’d grown gray and older, while she remained beautiful and untouched by the years. He said, “Do you want the cars to stay together, or do you want me to try to outrun the press?”
Frost looked at Doyle. Doyle looked at me. I had had more experience than any of them in being pursued by the press. I hit the intercom button above me, though I had to stretch for it. “Fred, don’t try to outrun them. Today they’ll hound us. Just get us home in one piece.”
“Will do, Princess.”
“Thanks, Fred.”
Fred had been dealing with the “royalty” of Hollywood for decades. He seemed unimpressed with real royalty. But I guess when you’ve been driving the Golden Goddess of Hollywood around, what’s a princess to that?
CHAPTER 10
USNA RELAXED HIS TALL, MUSCLED FRAME AGAINST THE SEAT, AS if we were on a pleasure drive. A sword hilt poked out of his long, loose hair, which fell around him in a riot of red, black, and white. The hair was patched, not striped like Abe’s. Usna’s eyes, though large and lustrous, were the plainest shade of gray that any of my guards could boast. But those shining gray eyes stared out through a veil of hair.
He’d had three reactions to his first time in the big city: one, he carried more weapons than he ever had in faerie; two, he seemed to hide behind his hair. He was always peering out of it, like a cat hiding in the grass until it springs on an unwary mouse. Three, he had joined Rhys in the weight room and added some bulk to that slender frame. The cat analogy came from the fact that he was spotted like a calico cat, and that his mother had been changed into the form of a cat when pregnant with Usna. She’d been pregnant by another Seelie sidhe’s husband, and the scorned wife had decided that her outside should match her inside.Usna had grown up, avenged his mother, and undone the spell, and his mother was living happily ever after in the Seelie Court. Usna had been exiled for some of the things he had done to avenge her. He’d thought it was a fair trade.
But it was Aisling, from his seat beside Doyle, who asked, “Not that I am complaining, Princess, but why are we in the main car? We all know that you have your favorites, and we are not among them.” His comment about favorites echoed what Doyle and Frost had said earlier. But damnit, wasn’t I entitled to have favorites?
I looked into Aisling’s face, but could only truly see his eyes because he wore a veil wrapped around his head as some women did in Arabic countries. His eyes were spirals of colors that reached out from his pupil, not rings, but true spirals. The color of those spirals seemed to change, as if his eyes couldn’t decide what color they wanted to be. He wore his long yellow hair in complicated braids at the back of his head so the veil could be securely tied.
Once, looking into Aisling’s face had caused anyone, male or female, to fall instantly in lust with him. The legend said love, but Aisling had corrected me: It was lust unless he put effort into the magic; then it could be love. Once, even true love could have been broken by Aisling’s touch. It had worked outside and inside faerie, once upon a time. We’d proven that he could still make someone who hated him fall madly in love, give up all her secrets, and betray every oath because of his kiss. It was why I had yet to bed Aisling—he and the other guards weren’t sure if I was powerful enough to resist his spell.
His veil today was white, to match the old-fashioned clothes he wore. There hadn’t been time to make new clothes for the newest guards, so they wore the tunics, pants, and boots that would have looked perfect in about fifteenth-century Europe, maybe a little later. Fashion moved slowly in faerie unless you were Queen Andais. She was fond of the latest and greatest designers, as long as they liked black.
Usna had borrowed jeans, T-shirt, and a suit jacket from someone. Only the soft boots that peeked from the leg of the jeans were his own. But then a cat is less formal than a god.