A month ago he’d recovered himself. He was simply more. He could call light into my skin by looking at me. I wasn’t sure if he was truly more powerful magically, or if it was the nature of his magic. I thought the former, rather than the latter, because he was a death deity and not a fertility god. Surely my body should have reacted more to life than death.
His voice came soft and low. “What do you want me to do?”
For a moment I couldn’t think what he meant. It took all my concentration not to buckle at the knees. “What?” I asked.
Frost made a disgusted noise. “She’s power-drunk. Rhys, you really must be more careful.”
“It’s been almost seven hundred years since I had this much power. I’m a little rusty.”
“You enjoy how you affect the princess,” Frost said. He was closer now, but it would have been too much effort to turn my head to look at him.“Wouldn’t you?” Rhys said.
Frost hesitated, then said, “Perhaps, but we have no time for it, Rhys.”
I felt Frost’s strong hands on my arms as he turned me slowly to face him. “Find robes for both of you while I fix this.”
I thought I heard Rhys move away into the room, but I wasn’t sure. I was too busy staring at Frost’s chest. His white shirt was buttoned all the way up to the rounded collar. I knew what lay under that tightly buttoned cloth. I knew the swell of his chest as I knew my own hand. I felt heavy and thick—not just thickheaded, but as if the hand I raised toward him was heavier than it should have been.
He caught my hand before it touched his chest. My red fingernail polish seemed brighter against his white skin, like startled drops of blood. “If there were more time”—he spoke low, just above a whisper—“I would wake you from this befuddlement with a kiss, but I would not trade one bemusement for another.” He bent close, whispering against my face, “And if my kiss has not the power to befuddle you, I do not wish to know it.”
I started to say something romantic and silly, like his kiss was always magical, but his hand where it touched mine had gone cold. Ice, his hand was like ice. If I’d been thinking more clearly, I’d have jerked back before he finished, but of course if I’d been thinking clearly Frost wouldn’t have done what he did. Cold shot through my body, a cold to freeze the skin and ice the blood. A cold so intense that it stole my breath, and when I could breathe again, it came from my lips in a white fog. I jerked free of him, and he let me go. I was no longer befuddled. No, I was clearheaded, and shivering with cold.
I fought chattering teeth to get out, “Damn it, Frost, you didn’t have to freeze me.”
“My apologies, Princess, but like Rhys, I have not had my full power in centuries. I am still relearning the niceties of it.” His grey eyes were full of snow, as if the iris of each eye were one of those snow globes that you shake up to see the snow fly. Almost every other sidhe I’d known glowed with power, and Frost could glow with the best of them, but when he called cold, his eyes filled with snow. Sometimes I thought that if I gazed into those grey, snow-flecked eyes long enough I’d see a landscape done small, see the place where he’d begun, see a time before I was born.
I looked away. My nerve broke every time, because I wasn’t entirely sure where those winter eyes would lead me, or what secrets they might reveal. There was something in the snow that frightened me. There was no reason for it. No logic to it, but I did not like the snow.
If I’d been human I’d have accused myself of being unnerved by the strangeness of it, but I wasn’t human enough for that, and Goddess knows I’d seen stranger things than snow fall in someone’s eyes.
I was already warmer. The cold never lasted long, but I didn’t like it. He had used it as foreplay once in our lovemaking, and though interesting, I didn’t want to repeat it. To hide the fact that I was unnerved by his magic in a most un-sidhe-like way, I said, “Why is it that only Rhys’s magic bemuses me like that?” I didn’t meet his eyes as I asked. Eventually, his eyes would return to their normal grey.
“None of us had lost as much as Rhys, and he was once a deity to rival any.”
That made me look up. His eyes held a sense of movement, but were grey again. “None of you talks about what it was like before.”
“It is hard to speak of that which is lost, and can never be regained.”
“Are you saying that Rhys was more powerful than any of the rest of you?”
“He was the Lord of Death himself. Death followed at his step, if he willed it. When he was great among us, Meredith, none could withstand us.”
“Then why didn’t the Unseelie destroy the Seelie?”
“Rhys was not always Unseelie.”
That surprised me. “He was Seelie Court?”
Frost nodded, then frowned. He frowned so much that if he’d been able to wrinkle, he would have had grooves in his forehead and around his mouth by now, but his face was smooth and flawless, and always would be. “Rhys was a power apart. He was the ruler of the land of the dead, and that is not truly Unseelie or Seelie. He was welcome at the shining court, but he was truly a thing apart, as were some of the rest of us. The system of two courts of the sidhe is relatively recent. Once there were many courts. The humans chose to call those of the fey who were beautiful and did them no harm Seelie. Those they found ugly, or harmed them, they named Unseelie. But it was not so clean a line.”
“Like the goblins and the sluagh, now?”
“More like the goblins. The King of the Sluagh is a noble of the Unseelie Court. They are no longer truly separate. King Kurag holds no title among us; nor does any sidhe hold title in his court.”
Rhys came back in with a white terry-cloth robe belted around his body. It was long enough that it came nearly to his ankles. It would have draped the floor on me. His white curls looked darker against the white of the robe, the difference between fresh snow and ivory. Shades of white.
He held the robe that matched my bikini. It was red, and meant more to decorate the body than to cover, so that most of the robe was sheer, like seeing your skin through a haze of fire.
Rhys looked from one to the other of us. “Why do you both look so solemn? Nobody died while I was gone, did they?”
I shook my head. “Not that I know of.” I took the robe and slipped in between the patches of silk and the scratchier sheerness. The next robe I got was going to be just silk, or satin, something that didn’t feel like it was catching on my skin as I moved.
“So what do you want me to do once we’re in talking to Kurag?” Rhys asked.
“Just flaunt yourself—maybe flash your ass or upper thigh. They’re supposed to be two of the prime cuts of meat that you can carve off our bodies.”
Rhys put his head to one side, as if thinking. “Will it bother him to see meat he can’t taste?”
“It will be a little bit of torture, and I don’t use the word lightly. The worst thing you can do to a goblin is show him something he wants and deny it to him. Showing Kurag his wildest desire when he knows he can’t have it, it’ll drive him mad.”
“Or make him so angry he walks away from the negotiations,” Frost said.
“No, Frost, if we make Kurag lose control that badly, he won’t walk away. He’ll respect the fact that we beat him this round. He’ll try to find something else to distract us for next time, but he won’t hold it against us. Goblins love a good game of one-upmanship. He’ll be flattered that we went to the trouble.”“I do not understand the goblins,” Frost said.
“You don’t have to,” I said. “My father made sure I did.”
Frost looked at me, and there was something I couldn’t read on his face. “Prince Essus raised you as if he was grooming you to rule the courts, yet he knew that Cel was heir, and not you. If Cel had produced even one child, the queen would never have offered you this chance.”
“You’re right on that.”
“Why do you think he taught you to rule, if you were never going to mount the throne?”
“My father was secondborn and never going to rule, yet his father raised him to be a ruler. I think he raised me the only way he knew how.”
“Perhaps,” Frost said, “or perhaps, Prince Essus did not lose all his prophetic abilities when the rest of us did.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know, and I don’t have time to worry about it.”
Doyle came to the front of the hallway. “Kurag is willing to talk to you, Meredith, but he is not happy about it.”
“I didn’t expect him to be.”
“He fears your enemies,” Frost said.
“That makes two of us,” I said.
“Three,” Rhys said.
“Four,” Doyle said.
Frost shook his head, his hair glittering like a curtain of Christmas tree tinsel. “Five. I fear for your safety. If we lose the goblins’ threat, Cel’s allies will move against us.”
“Then we’re agreed,” I said.
Doyle was looking from one to the other of us. “What have we agreed to?”
“I’m going to play hors d’oeuvre for the Goblin King,” Rhys said.
Doyle’s black-on-black eyebrows raised up nearly to his hairline. “I have missed something.”
“Rhys is going to help me negotiate with Kurag,” I said.