A Caress of Twilight

I gave his knuckles a quick kiss, because I didn't trust myself to do anything more. "Go, finish setting the table. I think the bread should be cool enough by now."

He smiled suddenly, a flash of his old grin. "I don't know ... it feels pretty hot from here."

I shook my head and pushed him half-laughing toward the kitchen. Maybe I could just keep Galen as the royal mistress, or whatever the male equivalent was. The sidhe had been around for several mille

Chapter 16

Over di

Doyle had left a message that would let her know who had called. He was sure she'd be intrigued enough to call back, and he was also sure she'd know what we wanted. "Niceven has been anticipating this call. She has a plan. I don't know what that plan will be, but she will have one." Doyle was sitting on my right so that his body blocked me from the window. He'd made me draw the drapes, but allowed the window to be opened for the breeze.

It was December in California, and the wind through the window was delightfully cool, like late spring or very early summer in Illinois. By no stretch of imagination did it feel cold or wintry in the least.

"She is an animal," Galen said, pushing back his chair. He took his empty bowl to the sink and began to run water into it, his back to us.

"Do not underestimate the demi-fey because of what they did to you, Galen. They used teeth because they enjoyed it, not because they don't have swords," Doyle said.

"A sword the size of a straight pin," Rhys said, "not much of a threat."

"Give me a blade no bigger than a pin and I could slay a man," Doyle said, deep voice soft.

"Yes, but you're the Queen's Darkness," Rhys said. "You've studied every weapon known to man or immortal. I doubt Niceven's crew has been as thorough."

Doyle stared at the pale-haired man across the table from him. "And if it were your only weapon, Rhys, wouldn't you study how it could be used on your enemy?"

"The sidhe are not the enemies of the demi-fey," he said.

"The demi-fey, like the goblins, are tolerated, and barely that in the courts. And the wee-fey do not have the goblins' fierce reputation to protect them from the slings and arrows of mischance."

For some reason mention of the goblins made it hard not to look at Kitto. He hadn't sat at the table but had crouched underneath. He'd eaten his stew, then crawled to his oversize doggie bed. He seemed shaken by the afternoon at Maeve Reed's pool. Too much sun and fresh air for a goblin.

"No one harms the demi-fey," Frost said. "They are the queen's spies. A butterfly, a moth, a tiny bird can all be demi-fey. Their glamour is almost undetectable even by the best of us."

Doyle nodded around a mouth full of stew. He sipped a little of his red wine, then said, "All that you say is true, but the demi-fey were once much more respected in the courts. They were not merely spying eyes, but truly allies."

"With the wee-ones," Rhys said. "Why?"

I answered, "If the demi-fey leave the Unseelie Court, then what remains of faerie will begin to fade."

"That is an old wives' tale," Rhys said. "Like if the ravens leave the Tower of London, Britain will fall. The British Empire has already fallen, and yet they still clip the poor ravens' wings and stuff them full of food. The damn things are as big as small turkeys."

"It is said that where the demi-fey travel, faerie follows," Doyle said.

"What does that mean?" Rhys asked.

"My father said that the demi-fey are the most closely allied with the rawness that is faerie, the very stuff that makes us different from the humans. The demi-fey are their magic more than any of the rest of us. They ca

Galen leaned against the counter at the end of the kitchen, arms crossed over his now bare chest. He'd put the apron away, I think to save me embarrassment. I don't know why his bare chest wasn't as eyecatching as his chest peeking through all that sheer cloth, but I couldn't eat and sit across from him while he wore the apron. The second time I missed my mouth with the stew, Doyle asked him to take the apron off.

"That doesn't work for most of the rest of the smaller fey. The rule is, the smaller you are, the more dependent you are on faerie, and the more likely you are to die when away from it. My father was a pixie. I know what I'm talking about," Galen said.

"How big a pixie?" Rhys asked.

Galen actually smiled. "Big enough."

"There are many different kinds of pixies," Frost said, either missing the humor or ignoring it. I loved Frost, but his sense of humor wasn't his best feature. Of course, a girl doesn't always need to laugh.

"I've never known another pixie who wasn't a member of the Seelie Court," Rhys said. "Did you ever learn what your father did to earn exile from Taranis and his gang?"

"Only you would refer to the glittering throng as Taranis and his gang," Doyle said.

Rhys shrugged, gri

The smile faded, then grew, on Galen's face. "My uncles tell me that my father seduced one of the king's mistresses." His smile faded. Galen had never met his father, because Andais had had him executed for the audacity of seducing one of her ladies-in-waiting. She never would have done it if she'd known there was going to be a child. In fact, the pixie would have been elevated to noble rank and there would have been a marriage. It had happened with stranger mixes. But Andais's temper made her a little too quick on the death sentence, and thus Galen never met his father.

If any humans had been in the room, they would have apologized for bringing up such a painful subject, but there weren't any and we didn't bother. If Galen was in pain, he'd have said something, and we'd have taken care of it. He didn't ask and we didn't pry.

"Treat Niceven as a queen, an equal. It will please her and catch her off guard," Doyle said.

"She is a demi-fey. She can never be the equal of a sidhe princess." This from Frost, who sat on the other side of Galen's empty chair. His handsome face was as severe and haughty as I'd ever seen it.

"My great-grandmother was a brownie, Frost," I said. My voice was soft, so he wouldn't think I was chiding him. He didn't take well to that. Frost seemed impervious to so much, but I'd learned that he was really one of the most easily wounded of the guards.

"A brownie is a useful member of faerie. They have a long and respected history. The demi-fey are parasites. I agree with Galen: they are animals."

I wondered what else Frost would say that about. What other members of faerie would he dismiss out of hand?

"Nothing is redundant in faerie," Doyle said. "Everything has its purpose and its place."

"And what purpose do the demi-fey serve?" Frost asked.

"I believe that they are the essence of faerie. If they were to leave, the Unseelie Court would begin to fade even faster than it already is."

I nodded, getting up to put my own bowl in the sink. "My father believed it was so, and I haven't found much that my father believed turn out to be false."

"Essus was a very wise man," Doyle said.

"Yes," I said, "he was."

Galen took the bowl from my hands. "I'll clean up."

"You made di

"I'm not much good for anything else right now." He smiled when he said it, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

I let him take the bowl so I could touch his face. "I'll do what I can, Galen."

"That's what I'm afraid of," he said softly. "I don't want you to put yourself in debt to Niceven, not for me. It's not a good enough reason to owe that creature anything."