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Belly laughs are usually infectious; strangely, this one was not. Or rather, it wasn't to us. I could hear others behind her joining in. Ezekiel and his assistants probably thought it was a hoot. Torturers have such an odd sense of humor.
The laughter slowed, and finally Andais stood up again, wiping at her eyes. I think we were all holding our breaths, wondering what she'd say. She managed to gasp, laughter still thick in her voice, "You have given me the first true pleasure of the day, and for that I will give you all a reprieve. Though I fail to see what is so wrong with doing in front of me what you will do when I leave you. I do not see the difference."
Wisely, we kept our opinions to ourselves. I think we all knew that if she didn't already understand the difference, there was no way to explain it to her.
The queen went away, leaving the three of us to stare into the mirror. I looked shell-shocked, stu
Rhys looked around the room, puzzled. "What's happened?"
Frost wheeled toward him, naked, unarmed, but there was something fearsome in him. "We are not animals to be paraded for her amusement!"
Doyle stood up, motioning the others back. Rhys looked at me, and I nodded. They left, closing the door softly behind them.
Doyle spoke softly to Frost. Some of it was simple soothing talk, but some was more insistent. "We are safe now, Frost," I heard Doyle tell him. "She ca
Frost raised his head and grabbed Doyle by the shoulders. The pressure of his pale hands mottled Doyle's dark skin. "Don't you understand yet, Doyle? If we are not the one who fathers Merry's child, then we are back to being Andais's playthings, her neglected playthings. I don't think I could bear it again, Doyle." He shook him, just a little. "I can't go back to that, Doyle, I can't!" He shook the other man, back and forth, back and forth.
I kept expecting Doyle to break his grip, to force him away, but he didn't. He'd raised his forearms to grip Frost's arms. Other than that he'd remained immobile.
I caught the shine of tears through the silver of Frost's hair. He slowly fell to his knees, his hands sliding down Doyle's arms, but never losing contact. He pressed the top of his head against the other man, his hands holding on. "I can't do it, Doyle. I ca
With that last choked word he began to cry in earnest, great racking sobs that seemed to come from deep, deep inside him. Frost cried as if it would break him in two.
Doyle let him cry, and when he had quieted, Doyle helped me get Frost into bed. We laid him between us, Doyle spooning from the back, and me entwined from the front. There was nothing sexual about it. We held him while he cried himself to sleep. Doyle and I gazed at each other over Frost's curled body. The look in Doyle's eyes, his face, was more frightening than the sight of Andais covered in gore.
I watched a fearful purpose be born that night. Maybe it had been born a long time ago, and I just hadn't noticed. Doyle wouldn't go back, either. I saw it in his eyes. We held Frost; and finally we both slept, as well.
Sometime during the night Doyle got up and left us. I woke up when he moved, but Frost did not. Doyle kissed me gently on the forehead, then laid his hand against the soft glimmer of Frost's hair.
He spoke softly, his deep voice like a purr, more than a whisper. "I promise."
I raised up enough to ask, "Promise what?"
He just smiled, shook his head, and left, closing the door softly behind him.
I snuggled down beside Frost, but sleep eluded me. My thoughts weren't friendly enough for sleep. Dawn's light had greyed the window before I drifted into a fitful rest.
I dreamed that I stood beside Andais in the Hallway of Mortality. All the men were chained to the torture devices, untouched, unharmed, the only shining clean things in all that dark place. Andais kept trying to get me to join her in torturing them. I refused, and I wouldn't let her touch them. She threatened me and them, and I kept refusing her, and my refusal somehow made it so she couldn't touch them. I refused until Frost's small whimpering woke me. He was twitching in his sleep, struggling. I woke him as gently as I could, stroking down his arm. He woke with a scream half-choked in his throat, eyes wild.
The scream had brought the other men to the door. I waved them away as I hugged Frost to me. "It's all right, Frost, it's all right. It was just a dream."
He choked on that and spoke fiercely, his face buried against my body, his arms hugging me so tight it hurt. "Not a dream, real. I remember it. I will always remember it."
Doyle was the last one in the doorway, closing it slowly. I met his dark eyes, and I knew what he'd promised.
"I'll keep you safe, Frost," I said.
"You can't," he said.
"I promise I'll keep you safe, all of you."
He raised his hand, covered my mouth with his fingers. "Don't promise, Merry, don't promise that. Don't be forsworn for something you have no hope of doing. No one else heard. I forgive it. You never said it."
Doyle's face was just a dark shape in the nearly closed door. "But I did say it, Frost, and I meant it. I will make the Summerlands into a wasteland before I let her have you back," I said. The moment the words left my mouth, there was a slight sound, though not a sound, it was almost as if the very air held its breath. It was as if in that moment reality itself froze, and then remade itself, just a little bit different than it had been.
Frost crawled out of bed and wouldn't look at me. "You're going to get yourself killed, Merry." He walked into the bathroom without looking back. I heard the shower a few moments later.
Doyle opened the door enough to salute me with his gun, as if it had been a sword, touching the side of the weapon to his forehead, then bringing it out and down. I nodded my acknowledgment of the gesture. Then he blew me a kiss with his other hand and closed the door.
I didn't understand completely what had just happened. I knew what it meant, though. I was now sworn to protect the men from Andais. But I had felt the world shift, as if fate itself had shivered. Something had changed in the well-orchestrated run of the universe. It had changed because I vowed to protect the men. That one statement had changed things. I had made the fates blink, but I wouldn't know if I'd bettered myself or worsened until it was far, far too late.
Chapter 32
We were talking about the fertility rite for Maeve Reed when the mirror sounded again; but this time it was the clear ringing of a bell, a clarion call, almost like a trumpet.
Doyle had gotten up saying, "Someone new." He came back a few minutes later with an odd look on his face.
"Who is it?" Rhys asked.
"Meredith's mother." He sounded puzzled.
"My mother." I stood up, letting the notes I was making fall to the floor. I started to bend down and pick them up, but Galen took my hand. "Do you want company?"
I think of all the men, he alone knew how I truly felt about my mother. I started to say no, then changed my mind. "Yes, I would very much like company."
He offered me his arm, and I laid my hand across his in a very formal way.
"Would you like more company?" Doyle asked.
I looked around the room and tried to decide if I wanted to impress my mother, or insult her. With the men in my living room I could do either, or maybe even both.
There really wasn't room for everybody to troop in, so I settled for Galen and Doyle. I didn't really need protection from my own mother. At least, not the kind of protection that bodyguards could supply.