Swallowing Darkness

Chapter Forty-Eight

Andais is still queen of Air and Darkness, but the crown did not appear above her head. Taranis is still King of Light and Illusion, but our lawyers are trying to get someone to sign off on forcing him to submit a DNA sample to compare to the sperm they found in me. It got leaked to the press somehow that my uncle might be my rapist. The tabloids are finally picking on the Seelie Court, and the mainstream press is following their lead. It's too juicy a story to ignore, no matter how charming a king he may be.

Lord Hugh and some of the nobles of the Seelie Court are still trying to get me declared queen of their court, but I've sent word that I'm not interested.

Andais has offered to do what she vowed, and step down for me to take her throne even if the Crown of Moonlight and Shadows never reappears. I've refused.

Cel was insane, but he was right about one thing. Too many of the nobles of both courts see me as the mongrel who proved that even their highest nobles were losing their magic. I was mortal, and it's a sin they won't forgive. Cel is dead, and Andais's days are numbered. Too many of her nobles want her throne and see her as weak. We're staying in Los Angeles, far away from the infighting. We'll see who survives.

The only thing we did before we left faerie was to free the prisoners. Barinthus, my father's closest advisor and once the sea god Mana

He's in Los Angeles with us now, and watching the former sea god swim in a real sea after so long being landlocked is a wonderful thing.

I'm back at Gray Detective Agency, and so are my guards. We're all useless for undercover work, but people are paying through the nose to consult with Princess Meredith and her "bodyguards." People are actually offering our boss, Jeremy Gray, more money for us to grace their Hollywood parties than they'd pay for us to detect anything. Though we still try to do some real work now and then.

Sholto visits, but he can't bring the sluagh to Los Angeles, not permanently. Mistral is homesick for faerie, and doesn't like this modern world. Galen and Rhys both have enough glamour to do actual work for Gray Detective Agency. Rhys loves being a real detective at last. Kitto was happy to have us home, and had already cleaned out a room to be turned into a nursery.

Nights are spent sleeping between Doyle and Frost, or Sholto and Mistral, or Galen and Rhys. The sharing is fair for the sex, but the sleeping arrangements are not. My Darkness and my Killing Frost find their way to me more often than not. No one seems to argue about it, as if they've worked it out among them all.

In the interest of getting good press, and in some cases getting more money into the house, I've taken some interviews. Because we had the soldiers there at the end, they've talked to the press. They saw wonders, and they said so. I don't blame them. We even get visits from Dawson, Orlando, Hayes, Bre

There's one television interview that got a lot of showing, and once it hit the Internet, well, it seems everyone downloaded it. It's me, sitting between Doyle and Frost, them in their tailored suits, and me in the designer coat, still not showing yet. Frost's hand is in mine. Doyle sits beside me, more at ease than our Frost, who hasn't completely shaken his phobia of public speaking.

The interviewer asked, "So, Captain Doyle, is it really true that you gave up a chance to be king of the Unseelie Court to save Lt. Frost's life?"

Doyle didn't even glance around, but just nodded and said, "It is."

"You gave up a kingdom to save your friend."

"Yes."

"That's quite a friendship," the interviewer said.

"He has been my right hand for more than a thousand years."

"Some people are saying that perhaps he's more than just a friend to you, Captain."

"A thousand years makes for a very close friendship."

You'd think that the interviewer might ask about the whole thousand years thing, but she didn't. She chased something else. "Some people are saying that you gave up the throne because you love Frost."

This was the moment when Doyle didn't catch the double entendre. He answered honestly. "Of course I love Frost. He's my friend."

She turned to me then, and said, "Meredith, how do you feel knowing that Doyle loves Frost too?"

I reached over and took Doyle's hand so that I was holding both their hands at once. "It makes it easier for all of us to sleep together."

Which was a little too bold for that particular interviewer, but she recovered. "Frost, how do you feel knowing that your lovers gave up being king and queen to save you?"

The camera went in for a close-up that showed the closed arrogance that he used to hide his nerves behind. But nothing the camera could do made him any less than amazing to look at. "I would have told them not to save me."

"You'd have rather died?"

"I thought Meredith wanted to be queen, and I knew that Doyle would make the best of kings."

"It's been a few weeks. How do you feel now? Are you glad they made the sacrifice?"

He turned and looked at us both as the camera drew back so that it showed us looking at him. Our faces softened, and there were smiles, even from the men. "Yes, I am."

"And Meredith, princess, but never queen, how do you feel about that decision?"

"Better every day," I said.

"So no regrets?"

I raised their hands in mine and said, "If you had this waiting at home, would you regret?"

She'd laughed, and just agreed with me. The interview got a lot of attention, mostly for the whole love-between-the-men thing. None of us are bothered by it. In the end, if the rumors don't bother us, what do they matter?

People seemed amazed that we gave up being queen and king for love. Milton said, "Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven." I say, let heaven and hell fight their own battles, and rule themselves.

I go to sleep pressed between the warmth of their bodies. I wake in the night to the sound of their breathing. I got to watch their faces at the doctor's office, all of their faces, as we heard the heartbeats of our babies, so fast, like frightened birds. I saw their faces as we watched those shadows on the screen move and flex, and found out that one of them was very much a boy. They are debating names now, and I'm enjoying how happy they all are, we all are.

The question that no interviewer has asked was this: If you had let Frost die, and taken the throne, how would you have felt? We had missed our Killing Frost, and found that no throne, no crown, no power, no gift of Goddess made up for the loss of him. We'd already felt the sorrow of that loss, and neither Doyle nor I had ever been king or queen. You ca

I don't want to miss anyone else, ever again.

I am Princess Meredith NicEssus and I finally have my happy-ever-after ending in the City of Angels on the Shores of the Western Sea. Sometimes Fairyland is where you make it.