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I looked at her, so carefully beautiful, so stubbornly biased. "Are you saying it would be better to be the least of all the royals at the Seelie Court, instead of ruler of the Unseelie Court?"
"Are you implying that it is better to rule in hell than be in heaven?" she asked, almost laughing.
"I have spent time at both courts, Mother. There is not a great deal to choose between the two."
"How can you say that to me, Meredith? I have done my time at the dark court, and I know how hideous it is."
"I have spent my time in the shining court, and I know that my blood is just as red on shining gold-laced marble as it is on black."
She frowned, looked confused. "I don't know what you mean."
"If Gran had not interceded for me, would you really have let Taranis beat me to death? Beat your own daughter to death in front of your eyes?"
"That is a hateful thing to say, Meredith."
"Just answer the question, Mother."
"You had asked a very impertinent question of the king, and that is not a wise thing to do."
I had my answer, the answer I'd always known. I moved on. "Why is it so important to you that I attend this ball?"
"The king wishes it," she said. And she, like me, moved on from the earlier, more painful questions.
"I will not insult Queen Andais and all my people by snubbing their Yule celebration. If I come home, it will be for their Yule ball. Surely you see that that is the way it has to be."
"I see nothing but that you have not changed. You are still as willful and determined to be difficult as always."
"And you have not changed either, Mother. What did the king offer you to persuade me to come to his ball?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"Yes, you do. It's not enough for you to have the title of princess. You want what goes with the title, power. What did the king offer you?"
"That is between him and me, unless you come to the ball. Come, and I will tell you."
I shook my head. "Poor bait that, Mother, very poor bait."
"What is that supposed to mean?" She was very angry and made no attempt to hide it, which, from a social climber of her stature, was the supreme insult. I wasn't worth hiding her anger from. I was perhaps one of the very few sidhe whom she would have so insulted. Her own sister was someone she tiptoed around.
"It means, dear Mother, that I will not be attending the Seelie Yule ball." I motioned to Doyle, and he cut the transmission abruptly, leaving my mother in midword as she faded.
The mirror rang almost immediately with that bell sound, that clarion of trumpets, but we knew who it was now, and we weren't home to her.
Chapter 33
Dame Rosmerta called early the next morning, early enough that we were still abed. The sound of tiny bells woke me, tinkling into the still shadowed room. The smell of roses was almost overwhelming, and that was Rosmerta's calling card. Apparently she'd been trying to wake us for some time and finally resorted to the tiny bells and the scent of roses.
I tried to sit up, but was so tangled in Nicca's long hair and Rhys's arms that I couldn't manage it. Rhys opened his good eye and blinked blearily at me. "What time is it?"
"Early," I said.
"How early?"
"If you'd move your arm, I'd be able to see the clock and tell you."
"Oh, sorry," he muttered into the deep purple sheets. He moved his arm.
I sat up and looked at the clock. "Eight."
"Sweet Consort, what could be so important?"
Nicca propped himself up on his elbow, trying to sweep his hair behind his back and failing because Rhys and I were still sitting on it. I loved the feel of all that hair draping over my body, but I was begi
Rhys and I moved around enough for Nicca to retrieve his hair. He didn't so much sweep it behind his back as lay it down the side of his body like a slightly tangled cloak.
Rhys turned onto his back -- not to flaunt himself, though he accomplished that, but because he wanted to be able to see the mirror with his good eye.
Nicca stayed propped on his elbow behind me. I sat up in the middle of the two of them. I managed to tug enough sheets out from under everyone so that I was fairly covered. Nudity was casual in the Unseelie Court, but not always in the Seelie Court. Human vanity had been more contagious there. The three of us were placed to receive when Rhys and I realized at the same time that someone had to touch the mirror.
"Shit," he said, then he rolled off the bed touched the mirror, and rolled back into bed very fast, as if we had posed for a picture with the camera set on automatic. When he rolled back onto the sheets, the weight of his body tore the sheet out of my hand and down to my lap. Rhys realized that he now was on top of the covers, not underneath them. We both had a second to choose whether we were going to be struggling with the sheets when the mirror flashed to life, or be calmly posed. We both chose to look comfortable, not harried. Rhys lay full length in front of me, one arm behind his head, the picture of muscular ease. I leaned back against Nicca as if he were a chair back. He curled himself around me from the back, so that his body both cupped and framed me. He had managed to keep just enough cover over his groin so that he was covered.
Dame Rosmerta appeared in the mirror. She was dressed in silk and stiff embroidery, a slightly darker shade of pink today, almost fuchsia. Her dark yellow braids were entwined with pink ribbon that matched her dress exactly. She was all pink and gold and perfect like a doll. Her tricolored gold eyes were bright and clear, as if she'd been up for hours.
Her smile slipped a fraction as she got a good look at us. She opened her mouth, said nothing.
I helped her. "Is there something you wanted, Dame Rosmerta?"
"Ah, yes, yes." She gathered herself visibly, remembering her duty. It seemed to steady her. "King Taranis would like to invite you to a feast in your honor a few days before Yule. We are very sorry for the misunderstanding about the Yule ball. We understand completely that you must, of course, attend the festivities at your own court." She smiled and it was just the right amount of silly ol' us, but we've fixed it now. It might even have been sincere.
I was tired. Nicca and Rhys had begun to routinely share their nights with me. I think it was purely so that they both got two nights in a row, rather than one having any preference over the other; but it meant that my night had been very busy. Since we didn't have to go to work we hadn't worried about the late hours. Now here was Rosmerta looking daisy fresh at eight in the morning. It was discouraging.
Why was the King so insistent on seeing me before Yule? Was it about Maeve? Something else? Why did he want to see me now? He'd never given a damn about seeing me before.
"Dame Rosmerta," I said, and tried not to sound as tired as I felt, "I need to be blunt here, which I know isn't polite, but I need some questions answered before I say yes or no to the feast."
"Of course, Princess," she said, making a slight bow as she said my title.
"Why is my presence so important to the king that he would give a feast in my honor days before Yule? The entire court has been working and pla
Her smile never changed, never wavered. "For that you would have to ask the king himself."
"That would be lovely," I said, "if you would be so kind as to put him on."
That threw her; confusion chased across her pretty face. I think most people would have just accepted that you didn't get to talk directly to the king, but too many important things were afoot to be that polite.