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Melangell had never liked Aisling, never had much use for him. Now she looked at him the way a flower gazes at the sun, and it made me sick to see it. I didn’t like Melangell, but this was… wrong. If there was no cure for it, then I had done something far worse to her than any torture I could have devised. To be hopelessly, completely in love with someone who hated you. There isn’t even a level in Dante’s hell for that.
Frost seemed to understand because he said, “Aisling, ask her the question.”
“Why did you attack Galen?”
“To kill him.” Maybe she wasn’t as totally besotted as she appeared.
“Why did you want to kill him?”
“Because Prince Cel wants him out of Meredith’s bed.”
“Why does he want that?”
Melangell shook her head hard, as if trying to clear her thoughts.
Aisling knelt in front of her, putting his face and upper body close to her. “Why does Cel want Galen out of Princess Meredith’s bed?”
She’d closed her eyes again. “No,” she said, “no.”
“You ca
Frost whispered against my ear, “Her power was once similar to his; it may mean she can escape him.”
“She could kill with her touch.”
“But how do you get a man to touch you, Meredith? By making them want you.”
It made sense, though frankly Melangell was beautiful enough without the extra lure.
He leaned in and I thought he would kiss her, but she pushed backwards as far as Hawthorne would let her go. “Don’t touch me,” she said.
“You said my power had faded, Melangell. Why fear my touch if I am but a ghost of what I was? Why does Cel want Galen out of Meredith’s bed?” He grabbed her face between his hands, and she screamed, though not in pain. “I am willing to test my magic against yours, Melangell.” He kissed her, long and lingering.
Frost had tensed beside me. Which meant that once even a kiss from Melangell had been a dangerous thing. That I had not known. Dangerous indeed.
Aisling drew back, and her face was raw with need. “My sweet, tell me, why does Prince Cel want Galen out of Meredith’s bed?”
She swallowed hard enough that I heard it across the room, but she answered, “The prophecy said the green man would bring life back to the court.”
“What prophecy?” Aisling asked.
“Cel paid a prophet to tell him if Meredith would be a true threat. She would bring life back to the court with the help of the green man and the chalice. Galen was the only green man that she took with her. When we saw what she did at the press conference, we knew that he was her green knight.”
“Has it occurred to any of you that green man is a metaphor for vegetative deities, or even another name for the consort?” I asked.
Melangell ignored me, but when Aisling asked the same question, she answered, “Prince Cel said the prophecy meant Galen.”
“And do you believe everything Cel tells you?” I asked. When Aisling repeated the question, she answered, “Yes.”
“Fool,” Hafwyn said from behind us.
“What else did the prophecy say?” Aisling asked.
“That if someone of flesh and blood sat on the throne, Cel would die.”
“What did he think ‘flesh and blood’ meant?”
“Mortal.”
“You all must have been frantic when the princess returned with flesh and blood as her hands of power.”
“Yes,” Melangell said.
“Is there anything else Cel has done that we should know about?” Aisling asked, and I made a mental note that he was a thorough man.
She bent forward as if in pain. Hawthorne had moved back, as if he wasn’t comfortable touching her. His power was not similar to either of theirs, so maybe he was in danger of being bespelled by Melangell. Whatever the reason, when her hands moved, the cloth that tied them unwound, and since Hawthorne was turned away, he did not see it. Aisling went for his sword, but he was kneeling and at a bad angle. Her hands came up, and she clawed her eyes out while we watched. Only when blood and wet liquid ran down her face did she stop.
“You ca
Aisling let his half-drawn sword go back into its sheath. “Melangell, you ca
I couldn’t tell if she was crying or if it was just pieces of her eyes. “The sight of your shining face will be the last thing I will ever see. I hate you for this, but I ca
“Oh, Melangell,” he said, and he touched her face.
She laid her bloody, drenched cheek against his hand the way a lover would. She let him cup her face for an instant, then she drew away from him, and said, “Take me to the queen, take me to a cell, I care not. But take me away from him.”
Hawthorne drew her to her feet and rebound her hands, checking the knots. “What do you want me to do with her, Princess?”
“It is my right to be taken before the queen,” Kieran said.
“Yes, it is, but it is not her right. If Cel were free, then we would take her to him, but…” I shook my head, and looked away from her ravaged face. “Frost.” I buried my face against his chest. “Frost, I don’t know what to do with her.”
“Take her to a cell. Tell Ezekiel she is not to be touched until he hears further from the princess.”
“What of Ka
“Take her, as well.”
“The lords?”
“Take them to the queen, see what she does with them.”
He assigned different guards to the duty. He sent Dogmaela along with the lords. She spoke to me as she pushed Kieran past me. “I am not a lover of women.”
It was such an odd comment that I just answered it, “Neither am I.”
“But Hafwyn…”
I realized then that while we’d been trying to solve the mystery of Galen’s assassination attempt, and Cel’s treachery, that she had been worrying about her virtue. She wanted to be free of Cel, but not badly enough to lie with a woman. To be free of Cel, I would have slept with things that had never even been human, and never would be. I knew a lesser evil when I saw it. Looking into Dogmaela’s face, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I still had visions of Melangell’s eyes dancing inside my head. I’d probably have nightmares about it.
“I will bed Hafwyn and anyone else who wishes to come with me, not because I am a lover of women, but because I would not leave anyone in Cel’s power if I could save them. Now take Kieran before the queen and report truthfully and fully about his crimes.”
She went, and the others went with her, two of the guard carrying the still unconscious Lord I
Aisling had his golden veil wrapped around his face and hair again. The bloody cut on his side was almost healed.
“You gained from using your power,” I said, my face still half-hidden against Frost’s chest.
“I gained from besting her at her own game, yes. Once she was almost a match for me.”
“She has lost much of who she was,” Frost said.
“Once she was Sweet Poison.”
I wanted to ask him if he was upset about what Melangell had done. Didn’t it bother him that a woman had torn her own eyes out rather than look upon his face? But I didn’t say it out loud, any of it. I had asked him to do it. It was my responsibility. To say that I hadn’t understood was no defense. You did not use magic that you did not understand because of shit like this happening. I buried my face against Frost’s chest, so I could not see Aisling, even in his veil.
He laughed, a deep, rich masculine sound. “I was called Terrible Beauty.” But his voice said he was pleased with himself.
I wanted to say I didn’t understand, but I didn’t. It wasn’t a good enough excuse anyway.