Swallowing Darkness (Merry Gentry #7)(43)

I shrugged. “I don’t know, but it was a thought.”
“I think it is simpler than that,” Doyle said.
“What then?” I asked.
“Magic powers, hands of power, follow bloodlines. You are proof of that with your father’s hand of flesh, and a hand of blood that is similar to your cousin Cel’s.”
“His is the hand of old blood, so he can open old wounds but not make fresh ones,” I said.
“No, yours is a more complete power, but dealing with blood and body magic runs in your father’s bloodline. The children you carry may inherit the ability to deal with storms and weather. If they do, and Mistral is alive, then it is clear who gave them that blood trait. But if Mistral were dead long before the babes were born, by the time they were old enough to exhibit such power, Taranis could make another plea that they were indeed his.”
I shook my head. “But he is my uncle already. His brother is my grandfather, so I could carry the gene for storm magic in me already.”
Doyle nodded. “True, but I think the king grows desperate. He has convinced half his court that the twins could be his, including your mother. Her belief in it, and her lack of belief that he…took you, will go far to convince doubters. They will think ‘her mother would not believe lies.’”
“Do they not know her by now?” I asked.
“The Seelie, like most humans, do not want to believe such evil of a mother to her daughter.”
“But the Unseelie know better,” Mistral said.
Doyle and Sholto both nodded.
I sighed again. “My cousin actually thought that they could convince Rhys to join the Seelie Court again, and that Galen would be no threat. It’s why they didn’t attack the two of them.”
“Then why did Taranis include Rhys and Galen in the false rape charges?”
“And Abeloec too,” I said. That made me wonder. “Is Abe in danger too?”
“If Rhys comes back into his full power, he will be incredibly dangerous,” Mistral said. “Why didn’t they try to kill him? Why think they could persuade him to join them?”
“I don’t know. I’m repeating what Cair said.”
“Did she lie?” Doyle asked.
That hadn’t occurred to me. “I think she was too afraid to lie, but….” I stared at them. “Have I been a fool? Have we all been? No, the Goddess did not warn me of danger to Rhys or Galen. She warned me the last time Galen was nearly assassinated.”
“I think they are safe enough, for now,” Doyle said.
“But Doyle, don’t you see? There are too many different plots, too many factions in faerie right now. Some want you dead, but there are those Unseelie who want Galen dead. They are convinced he is the Greenman who will put me on the throne. I believe the Greenman in the prophecy is simply the God, the Consort.”
“I agree,” Doyle said.
“Taranis may have believed his rape allegations against Rhys and the others. He’s crazy enough to be manipulated by his courtiers. Maybe someone else wanted those three out of the way for some other reason, and used the king to do it,” Sholto said.
“We are at the center of a spiderweb of plots. Some threads we may touch and travel on, but others are sticky and will alert the spider,” Doyle said.“And then it will come and eat us,” I said. “We get out of faerie tonight, and we go back to L.A., and we try to make a life. There is no way to guarantee our safety here.”
The three men exchanged looks. Sholto said, “I would trust that I am safe inside the sluagh, but outside of it….” He shrugged. He was wearing his own white sword; the carved bone shield was leaning against his big chair. He picked up the shield, and settled it on his arm. It covered his body from neck to mid-thigh.
“Why don’t these things of power come and go like the chalice and the spear of bone and the white knife?” I asked.
“Things that come from the hands of the gods themselves, that are given in vision or dream, will come to the hand like magic, but things that are given by the guardians of the earth, or water, or air, or fire are more like mortal weapons. They can be lost, and if you do not carry them, they are not with you,” Doyle said.
“Good to know the difference,” I said.
The phone rang in the office. Sholto picked it up, murmured something, then handed it to me. “It’s for you—Major Walters.”
I took the receiver and said, “Hello, Major Walters.”
“We’re outside, and the siege is breaking up. Your uncle’s people are packing up and going home.”
“Thank you for that, Major.”
“My duty,” he said. “Now, if you’ll just come outside. We’d like to get home.”
“We’ll be right out. Oh, and Major, I have two more men I need to find who will be going back to the Western Lands, I mean Los Angeles.”
“Would that be Galen Greenhair and Rhys Knight?”
I hadn’t heard their names from their driver’s licenses in a while. “Yes, that would be them. Are they with you?”
“They are.”
“I’m impressed. Even in faerie people don’t anticipate my wishes quite that well.”
“They found us. Mr. Knight said that when he saw all of us he figured he’d better tag along to see what trouble you and Captain Doyle had gotten into.”
“Tell him the trouble just went back to the Seelie Court.”
“I’ll pass it along. Now, if you could just join us, and tell us how many seats we need to find in the vehicles.”
“Myself and three others.”
“We’ll find room.”
“Thank you again, Major, and we’ll see you all in moments.” I put the phone back in its cradle and turned to the men.
“Rhys and Galen are already with them,” I said.
“Rhys would have known that there was only one person that the National Guard would come to faerie to rescue,” Doyle said. 
“I’d be flattered, if my life wasn’t in danger so constantly.”
Doyle came to me, smiling. “I will give my life to keep you safe.”
I shook my head and didn’t smile back. I took his hand in mine. “Silly man. I want you alive and at my side, not dead and heroic. Bear that in mind when you’re making choices, all right?”
His smile had faded, and he was studying my face, as if he could read things in the back of my mind that even I didn’t know. Once that look would have made me squirm, or be afraid, but not now. Now I didn’t want secrets from Doyle. He could have them all, even the ones I kept from myself.
“I will do my best never to disappoint you, Merry.”
It was the best I was going to get from him. He would never promise not to lay his life down to protect me, because that was exactly what he would do, if it came to it. I’d made the choice for him, in a way. I’d decided to give up all of faerie, any throne offered, to keep us all safe. I wanted the fathers of my children alive by the time they were born.
He touched my face. “You look sad. I do not want to make you sad.”
I leaned my cheek against his hand, feeling the warmth and reality of him. “It makes me nervous that all our enemies seem so determined to kill you first, my Darkness.”
“He’s hard to kill,” Mistral said.
“I am,” he said.
I patted his hand and stepped away, looking at all three of them. “You better all be hard to kill, because leaving faerie won’t stop all of it. It will give us some breathing room, and charging Taranis with rape will make the media our friends, and cut down on the attacks, unless they want pictures of it on the news.”
“Are you saying the paparazzi will be our safety?” Doyle sounded incredulous.
“The Seelie pride themselves on being the good guys. They won’t want pictures of them being bad.”
Doyle looked thoughtful. “An evil turned to a good.”
“What are paparazzi?” Mistral asked.
All of us, including Sholto, looked at Mistral. Then I swear that an almost evil grin crossed Doyle and Sholto’s faces. “If we have to make another bargain with the devil for posed pictures, Mistral, you can be with Merry,” Sholto said.
“What are you talking about?” Mistral asked.
Sholto said, “I saw those pictures, Darkness. You, Rhys, and Meredith, nude by the pool doing the nasty.”
“We were not having sex,” I said.
“Some of the tabloids in Europe used pictures that left that to doubt,” Sholto said.
“When were you in Europe?” I asked.
“I have a clip service that cuts out anything worldwide about the fey.”
“That’s an excellent idea,” Doyle said. “I would suggest it to the queen, except….” He turned to me. “I no longer serve that queen.”
I had a moment to wonder if I should apologize for that. Then the look on his face made an apology unnecessary. He loved me. It was there in his face, his eyes. Doyle loved me, and you should never apologize for that.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
MY BREATH FOGGED IN THE WINTER NIGHT AS WE WALKED across the frosted grass. Mirabella had found me a cloak made of cream-colored fur. It was a hooded cloak out of some fairy tale, all white and gold and cream, over the black leather of the coat. Sholto had had enough winter cloaks and coats to fit the men. My hands were on the arms of King Sholto and Captain Doyle, which would be the titles they would use with the soldiers. Mistral came behind us, with his spear wrapped in soft cloth to hide it from prying eyes. There would be spies watching. It was faerie; there was always someone watching. Not necessarily spies for either court, but the fey are a curious lot. Anything unusual will bring them out to hide, and cling to the leaves and trees, and watch.The sight that met our eyes was unusual enough to bring out an audience. If the fey had been human, we’d have had a crowd of gawkers that the soldiers would have had to hold back, but our people could watch and never be seen. We weren’t called the Hidden Folk for nothing.