A Caress of Twilight

"The goblins have little to do with us."

"And what of the sidhe?"

"What of them?"

"As ally to one of the heirs, you would gain status. They would no longer be able to dismiss you, for fear that you might bear a grudge and whisper it back to me."

She kept those glowing eyes on me. "And what would you gain from this alliance?"

"You would spy for me, as well as for the queen."

"And Cel?"

"You would cease to spy for him."

"He won't like that."

"He doesn't have to like it. If you are my ally, then to injure you is to insult me. The queen has decreed that I am under her protection. To harm me now is a death sentence."

"So he insults me, then you step in. Then what?"

"Threaten to bring your entire court out here to Los Angeles, out here to me."

She shivered. "I would not wish to take my people out into the city of men." She spoke as if there were only one city of men, the city.

"You could live in the botanical gardens, acres of open land. There's room for you here, Niceven, I swear it."

"But I do not want to leave the court."

"Wherever the demi-fey travel, faerie follows."

"Most sidhe do not remember that."

"My father made sure I knew the history of all the fey. The demi-fey are the most closely allied with the rawness that is faerie, the very stuff that makes us different from the humans. You are not leprechaun, or pixie, to pine and die away from faerie. You are faerie. Is it not said that when the last demi-fey fades, there will be no more faerie upon the earth?"

"A superstition," she said.

"Maybe, but if you leave the Unseelie Court and the Seelie Court retains its own demi-fey, the Unseelie will be weakened. Cel may not remember that bit of our lore, but the queen will. If Cel insults you enough for you to pack your belongings, the Queen will intercede."

"She will order us to stay."

"She ca

Niceven looked nervous. She feared Andais. Everyone did. "I do not wish to anger the queen."

"Neither do I."

"Do you really believe that the queen would punish her own son if he drove us away, rather than take out her anger on us?" She had crossed her legs again, arms folded over her chest, forgetting to flirt, forgetting to be regal in her fear.

"Where is Cel now?" I asked.

Niceven giggled, a most unpleasant little giggle. "Being punished for six months. There are bets going round that his sanity will not survive six months of isolation and torment."

I shrugged. "He should have thought of that before he was such a bad, bad boy."

"You are flippant, but if Cel comes out insane, it will be your name that he screams. Your face that he wants to smash."

"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."

"What?"

"It's a human saying. It means that I'll deal with the problem when and if it comes to pass."

She seemed to be thinking very hard, then said, "How would you offer this blood to me? I do not think either of us would relish a weekly trip between faerie and the Western Sea."

"I could put it upon a piece of bread, and the essence could be sent to you via magic."

She shook her head, ghostly curls bouncing around narrow shoulders. "The essence is never the same."

"What do you suggest?"

"If I send one of my people to you, they could act as my surrogate."

I thought about it for a moment, feeling Frost's stillness, hearing the heavy, almost tearing sound of Rhys pulling the brush through Doyle's hair. "Agreed. Tell me the cure for my knight and send your surrogate."

She laughed, off-key bells ringing. "No, Princess, you will gain the cure from the lips of my surrogate. If I give it to you now before I have been paid, you may think better of it."

"I have given you my word. I ca

"I have dealt with the great of faerie for too long to believe that everyone keeps their word."

"It is one of our most stringent laws," I said. "To be forsworn is to be outcast."

"Unless you have friends in very high places who make sure such tales are never spread."

"What are you saying, Queen Niceven?"

"I say only this, that the queen doth love her son much, and has broken more than one taboo to keep him safe."

We stared at each other, and I knew without asking that Cel had made promises and broken them. That alone should have made him outcast and certainly denied him the right to any throne. Andais had always spoiled Cel, but I never realized just how much.

"When can we expect your surrogate?" I asked.

She seemed to consider this, reaching an idle hand out toward where the mouse was crouched. It crept close to her, its long whiskers twitching, ears alert, as if it still wasn't sure of its welcome. She stroked it gently. "A few days," she said.

"We are not always at home to welcome visitors. I would be loath to have your envoy receive less than our best hospitality."

"Leave a pot of flowers by your door and that will sustain him."

"Him?"

"I believe a him would please you more, would it not?"

I gave a small nod, because I wasn't sure I cared. I was sharing blood, not sex, so I didn't have a preference; or at least I didn't think I did. "I am sure the Queen is wise in her choosing."

"Pretty words, Princess. It remains to be seen whether you have pretty actions to back up all those words." Her eyes flicked back to the men and settled on Doyle and Rhys. "Pleasant dreams, Princess."

"And to you, Queen Niceven."

Something harsh crossed her face, made it look even thi

I gave her another half bow. "I meant no insult."

"None taken, Princess, merely envy rearing its ugly head." With those words, the mirror went blank and smooth.

I sat gazing into my own reflection. Movement caught my gaze, and I watched Rhys and Doyle still on their knees. Muscles worked in Rhys's arms as he brushed Doyle's hair. Frost didn't so much move as just look at me in the mirror so hard that it turned me to look at him.

Frost glared back. The other two seemed unaware of my attention. "Niceven is gone. You can stop pretending," I said.

"I haven't finished brushing out all of this hair," Rhys said. "This is why I stopped growing mine down to my ankles. It's almost impossible to take care of it by yourself." He separated out another section of hair, hefted it in one hand, and began to brush with the other.

Doyle was silent as Rhys worked on his hair with the serious-faced concentration of a child. There was absolutely nothing else childish about him as he knelt nude, surrounded by a sea of black hair and multicolored pillows. His body was, as always, tightly muscled, pale, gleaming. He was lovely to look at, but he wasn't excited. Nude didn't mean sex to the sidhe, not always.

Frost made a small movement that turned me to him. His eyes were the dark grey of the sky just before a storm. He was angry; it showed in every line of his face, the tension of his shoulders, the way he sat, so careful, immobile, and shimmering with energy at the same time.

"I'm sorry if it upset you, but I knew what I was doing with Niceven."

"You have made it abundantly clear that you rule here and I merely obey." His voice was harsh with anger.

I sighed. It was early, but it had been a long day. I was too tired for Frost's hurt feelings. Especially since he was in the wrong.

"Frost, I ca