Swallowing Darkness

Chapter Thirty-One



The humvee wasn't made for comfort. It was made for war, which meant it was armored and safe, but cramped and full of odd protrusions, straps, and just bits and pieces that would never have been in a civilian version.



Our driver had hair so short from behind that you thought "male," but when she'd turned and looked a question at Specialist Gregorio, there'd been no mistaking Corporal Lance for anything but female. She made me look not as well-endowed. Maybe that was why she did the very masculine haircut, to try to look more like one of the guys. I didn't say it, but I thought that nature had made being one of the guys impossible for her.



Specialist Gregorio got in the seat beside her. The wizard's eyes followed Galen as he got in the Humvee in front of us. We'd all decided that it would be better if they spent less time together, since his effect on her had been stronger than intended. We'd have also put the other wizard, Dawson, farther away from me for similar reasons, but we weren't given a choice. Dawson got in with the male driver in the Humvee that would hold Galen, Mistral, and Sholto. I'd thought the king of the sluagh might protest being separated from his queen, but he didn't. He simply kissed me gently, and did what he was told. He agreed that Rhys needed to fill me and Doyle in on what had been happening while we slept in faerie. Galen could do the same thing for Mistral and Sholto while we drove. It was a very logical arrangement, which was one of the reasons I expected someone to argue. The fey of any flavor are not always the most logical of people, but no one debated. We just all went to our vehicles and climbed in.



My clothes were made more for a ball than for climbing into military vehicles. I had to do some pulling, and Rhys did some picking up and pushing from behind. Doyle took my hand and helped me take my seat beside him. We settled my clothes and had to push all the cloth around to give Rhys room to fit into his seat.



Even though Doyle's coat was in a style from circa the 1800s, it still took up a lot less room than my clothes. I guess women's clothing is always the least practical, no matter what century you're in.



The engine roared to life, and I realized that we wouldn't need to do a damn thing to keep the two humans from hearing us talk. All we had to do was not yell.



Rhys took my hand in his, raising it so he could lay a kiss across my knuckles. He was so solemn it made me nervous. Then he grinned at me, and something tight in the center of my chest eased a little.



"What has happened in the rest of faerie while we had days inside the sluagh?" Doyle asked.



Rhys kept my hand in his, running his thumb over my knuckles repeatedly. He could grin all he wanted, but touching like that was a nervous gesture.



"Do you remember the task you gave Galen and me in the hospital?" he began.



I nodded. "I gave you Gran's body to take home."



"Yes, and you conjured sidhe horses for us to ride on that journey."



"Sholto and I called them into being, not just me," I said.



Rhys nodded, his eyes flicking past me to Doyle. "We heard rumors that you'd been crowned queen of the sluagh."



"It is true," Doyle said, "and married by faerie itself."



Rhys's face fell; such sorrow came over him that he suddenly looked old. Not old the way a human will, for he would always be boyishly handsome, but as if every day he had lived, every hard ounce of experience was suddenly etched into his face, spilling into his one blue eye.



He nodded again, biting his lower lip, and took his hand back from mine. "Then it is true."



I took his hand back into both of mine, cradling his in my lap. "I have already had this talk with Sholto. I am not monogamous, Rhys. All the fathers of my children are dear to me, and that is not going to change, no matter how many crowns I wear."



Rhys looked not at me but at Doyle. The big man nodded. "I was there for her talk with the king of the sluagh. He did make noises about her being his queen alone, but our Merry was very... firm with him." There was the faintest hint of humor to that last.



I glanced at Doyle, but his dark face was impassive, and gave nothing away.



"But once faerie has chosen a spouse, then... " Rhys began.



"I think we are going back to very old rules," Doyle said, "not the human ones we adopted some centuries ago."



"The Seelie adopted human rules, but the Unseelie, it wasn't about human rules," Rhys said.



"No," Doyle said, "it was about our queen seeking an heir for her throne whom she did not think would destroy her kingdom. At some level I think she has always known that her son was flawed. I think that is one of the reasons she sought a second babe for herself so desperately."



Rhys held my hands back, squeezing. "There are those in our kingdom right now who want Merry on the throne."



"How did Prince Cel take that bit of news?" I asked.



"Calmly," Rhys said.



Doyle and I both stared at him. "He was mad as a hatter when we last saw him," Doyle said.



"He was ranting about killing me, or forcing me to have a child with him so we could rule together," I said.



"He was as calm as I've seen him in years," Rhys said.



"That is bad," Doyle said.



"Why is that bad?" I asked, trying to read his face in the dimness of the Humvee.



Rhys answered, "Cel may be crazy, Merry, but he's powerful, and he still has a lot of allies among the Unseelie. His serene demeanor pleased the queen, which is probably what he wanted. He doesn't want to be blamed if something happens to you."



"Onilwyn would not have tried to kill me or Mistral without orders from Cel," I said.



"The prince is blaming the Seelie traitors that you all killed. He says that they must have offered Onilwyn a return to the Golden Court."



"The prince lies," I said.



"Maybe, but it is plausible," Rhys said.



"It might even be true," Doyle said.



I looked at him. "Not you too?"



"Listen to me, Merry. Onilwyn knew that Cel was not going to live to see the throne. He also knew that you detested him personally. What would his life have been like in the Unseelie Court with you as queen?"



I thought about what he'd said. "I don't know what the Unseelie will be like after I'm on the throne. There are nights when I think I'll never live to see the throne."



Doyle hugged me one-armed; Rhys squeezed my hands. "We'll keep you safe, Merry," Rhys said.



"It is our job," Doyle said, with his mouth against my hair.



"Yes, but now my bodyguards are precious to me, and injury to you is like a wound to my heart."



"It is the downside to dating your bodyguards," Rhys said.



I nodded, settling against the solid, muscled warmth of Doyle, and drew Rhys in closer. I wrapped them around me like a second cloak. "Cel has been requesting that you be sent to the Unseelie Court for your own safety," Rhys said, his breath warm on my cheek.



"What does the queen want me to do?" I asked.



"I haven't been inside the court, Merry. Galen and I took Hettie back to her inn. But as we rode toward it, other sidhe and lesser fey joined us. They followed behind us, singing and dancing, and the white light of the horses flowed across all of them."



"It was a faerie radhe," Doyle said, and his voice held wonderment.



"Yes," Rhys said.



I pushed them both away enough so I could study their faces. "I know what a faerie radhe is  -  when the sidhe used to go riding across the land. Other sidhe would join with their horses and hounds, and lesser fey would be drawn to it, to march with us. Even humans could be drawn into it sometimes."



"Yes," Doyle said.



"But there has never been a faerie radhe on American soil," Rhys said. "We lost our horses and our ability to call the folk to us."



He laid his lips against my temple, almost a kiss, but not quite. "We rode along the highway, and cars passed us. People took pictures with their cell phones, and they're already up on the Internet. We made the news."



"Is that good or bad?" I asked, leaning in against him. Doyle moved with me so that I was still held securely by both. Touching was a way of feeling better, and the metal we rode in could not have felt good to them.



"The Seelie who joined us are eager for you to bring them into their power."



"We had Seelie who were forced to join the wild hunt, too," I said.



"The old powers return," Doyle said.



"Every brownie on American soil came out to receive Hettie. They took her from us, and keened for her."



"I should have been there," I said.



Rhys hugged me close. "Your aunt Meg asked where you were. Galen told her that you were hunting down the people responsible for your Gran's death. Meg was content with that, and so were the other brownies. She asked only if the murderer was sidhe."



Rhys did kiss the side of my face then. "We said yes."



Doyle reached out and touched the other man, squeezing his arm, as if he too heard the pain in Rhys's voice. Rhys continued. "Another brownie who I don't know by name asked, 'The princess will kill a sidhe for the murder of a brownie?' Galen said yes. That really pleased them, Merry."



"She was my grandmother. She raised me. Brownie or sidhe or goblin, I would have sought vengeance for her."



He kissed my cheek ever so gently. "I know that, but the lesser folk are not used to being thought of as equal to the sidhe, not in any way."



"I think that is about to change," I said.



They held me more tightly, so tight that it was getting too warm in my fur cloak. I was about to ask them to give me some breathing room when the radio crackled to life, and Dawson's voice came. "We've got a group of sidhe standing in the middle of the road. We can't go forward without running them over."



Rhys whispered, "If we said run them over, would that be bad?"



"Until we know who it is, probably," Doyle said.



"Who is it?" I asked.



Specialist Gregorio relayed my question.



"Galen Greenhair says one is Prince Cel and the other is the captain of his guard, Siobhan."



"Not good," Rhys said.



"I don't know," Doyle said. "I've wanted to kill Siobhan for years."



I studied his face, and found a hint of a smile. "You're pleased," I said.



"I am the queen's assassin, and a warrior of many battles, Meredith. I did not become one of the greatest killers of our court because I didn't enjoy my job."



I thought about that as he held me in the curve of his body. I thought about him enjoying the killing. I didn't like the thought much, but if he was a sociopathic killer, then he was my sociopathic killer. And I'd let him slaughter them both if it would save us. No, more than that, I knew that eventually Cel and Siobhan had to die for me and mine to live. Tonight was as good a time as any, if he gave us enough excuse to justify it later to the queen.



I sat there, with my Darkness and my white knight, and thought, utterly calmly, that if we could kill Cel tonight, we should probably do it. Maybe I shouldn't be pointing fingers at Doyle's inner moral compass when mine seemed just fine with his.



Chapter Thirty-Two



Specialist Gregorio spoke into her radio, and relayed the response to us. "The prince says he wants Princess Meredith to return with him to the Unseelie Court so they can protect her," she said. "Say again Sierra four."



She turned in her seat to look at me. "He says he wants to take you back to the court so they can crown you queen. Isn't he the competitor for that crown?"



"Yes," I said.



She raised an eyebrow at me. "Rumor says he tried to kill you."



"He did."



She gave me a look to go with the eyebrow. "And now he's just going to give up?"



"We don't believe it either," Rhys said.



Her eyes flicked to him, but came back to settle on me. The radio crackled, and she hit the switch again. Dawson's voice came tinny, but a few words were clear, "with child... conceding."



Specialist Gregorio turned back to me. "The prince says that now that you're with child, he'll concede the throne, because it's best for the kingdom." She didn't even try to keep her disbelief out of her voice.



"Tell him that I appreciate the offer, but I am returning to Los Angeles."



She relayed the information. Dawson's answer was quick. "Prince Cel says he can't allow you to leave faerie carrying the heirs to the Unseelie throne."



"I'll just bet he can't," Rhys said.



"He and his people are blocking the road. We can't run them down," Gregorio said.



"Can we drive past them?" Doyle asked.



She got back on the radio. The answer: "We can try."



"Let us try," Doyle said.



Gregorio said, "Princess, permission to speak freely?"



I smiled. "I didn't think you needed my permission, but if you do, you have it."



"How stupid does this Cel think you are? No one would believe this shit."



"I don't think he believes the princess is stupid," Doyle said. "I believe that the prince is deluding himself."



"You mean he honestly expects her to go with him quietly, and us not to fight him?"



"I believe that is his plan," Doyle said.



"You'd have to be crazy to believe that," Gregorio said.



"You would," Doyle said.



The woman looked at all three of us. "Your faces have all gone blank. You're trying not to let me see what you're thinking, but your blank faces say it all. You think he's crazy, as in certifiable."



"I do not know what certifiable means," Doyle said.



"It means crazy enough to be committed to a hospital," Rhys said.



"He is a prince of faerie. Such personages are not committed to insane asylums," Doyle said.



"Then what do you do with them?" she asked.



"They tend to die," he said, and even in the darkened car I could see that hint of a smile again.



Gregorio didn't smile back. "We can't kill a prince of anything for you guys."



"I didn't call you in to do our killing for us," I said.



"Why did you call us in, Princess?"



"To get me the hell out of here, Gregorio. You saw the Seelie simply leave rather than try to fight you. I thought that no one would be willing to confront the American military."



"You thought wrong," she said.



"And for that, I am sorry."



The line of cars began to move to the far side of the road, scraping against tree limbs, but since the Humvee was supposed to be able to stand up to artillery fire, a few branches wouldn't faze it. The trick was, would Cel and Siobhan simply let us drive away? How crazy was he, and where was Queen Andais, and why wasn't she keeping a better leash on her son?