"In truth, we have sought the aid of healers out here in the world of mortals. It is only recently that we had to admit that a call to you was necessary."
"Sheer stubbornness on your part then, Princess."
"Perhaps, but you know why I have called, and what I wish."
"I am not some fairy godmother to be granting wishes, Meredith." She'd dropped my title, a deliberate insult.
Fine, we could both be rude. "As you like, Niceven. Then you know what I want."
"You want a cure for your green knight," she said, one hand tracing the pink edge of the mouse's ear.
"Yes."
"Prince Cel was most insistent that Galen remain injured."
"You told me once that Prince Cel does not yet rule the Unseelie Court."
"That is true, but it is not at all certain you will ever live to be queen, Meredith." She'd dropped the title again.
Doyle moved from beside me to put his back to Rhys. He made sure he was still at the edge of the bed, at the limit of my peripheral vision and well within the queen's. As if they'd arranged it, Rhys rose from the pillows to his knees and showed clearly that he was nude. He rolled Doyle's long braid in his arms until he came to the end and began to undo the ribbon that bound it.
Niceven's eyes flicked behind me to the movement, then back to my face. "What are they doing?"
"Preparing for bed," I said. Though I wasn't 100 percent sure of that.
Delicate grey brows furrowed. "It is, what. . nine o'clock where you are. The night is young to waste in sleeping."
"I did not say we would sleep." I kept my voice even.
She drew a deep enough breath that I could see the rise and fall of her dainty chest. She tried to keep her attention on me, but her gaze kept flicking to the men. Rhys was working Doyle's thick hair free of the braid. I'd seen Doyle with his hair free of that braid only once. Only once had it been like some dark living cloak to shroud his body.
Niceven watched them furtively, giving me very little eye contact. I wasn't sure if it was Doyle's hair or Rhys's nudity. I doubted the nudity, because being nude just wasn't that unusual among the court. Of course, maybe she was gazing at Rhys's washboard abs, or what lay just below them.
Frost sat up, took off his suit jacket, and began to slip out of his shoulder holster. Her eyes flicked to him.
"Niceven," I said softly. I had to repeat her name twice more before she looked at me. "How do I cure Galen?"
"It is not certain that you will be queen, and if Prince Cel becomes king, then he will hold it ill that I helped you."
"And if I am queen, I will hold it ill that you did not."
She smiled. "So I must find a way between the two snarling dogs. I will help you here, because I have already helped Cel. It will even things up."
I remembered Galen's screams, and the pain in his eyes these last months, and I didn't think it evened things up. I didn't think fixing what she'd ruined came close to evening things up. But we were doing faerie politics here, not therapy, so I said nothing. Silence is not a lie. A sin of omission, but not a lie. Our cultures allow you to omit as much as you can get away with.
"How is Galen to be cured?" I asked.
She shook her head, making her curls bounce and her diamond tiara glitter. "No, we talk price first. What would you give me to make your green knight whole?"
Frost and Doyle moved up beside me almost simultaneously. "You will have the goodwill of the Queen of the Unseelie, and that should be enough," Frost said, his voice as cold as his name.
"She is not queen yet, Killing Frost." Niceven's voice was full of a cold, cold anger. It had the taste of an old grudge. Was it personal to Frost?
I saw Doyle begin to reach toward the other man, and I stopped him with a look. There was a tension between them tonight. It wouldn't make us look strong to argue amongst ourselves. Doyle stayed at my side, only his eyes looking at Frost. The look was not friendly.
I touched Frost's arm, squeezing slightly. He startled, muscles tightening, looked first to Doyle, then realized it was my touch. He'd expected it to be Doyle. He relaxed, slowly. He let out a deep, quiet breath and moved a fraction behind me.
I turned back to the mirror and found Niceven's face shrewd, watchful. I half expected her to say something, but she did not. She merely sat and waited for me to commit myself.
"What would Queen Niceven of the Diminutive Fey want from Princess Meredith of the Unseelie Court in return for curing her knight?" I'd purposefully put both our titles in the same sentence, emphasizing that I knew she was queen and I was not. I was hoping to make up for Frost's outburst.
She looked at me for a few heartbeats, then gave a very small nod. "What would Princess Meredith of the Unseelie Court offer us?"
"You said once that you would give much for a longer drink of my blood."
She looked startled before she could school her face to courtly blank-ness. When she could control herself, she said, "Blood is blood, Princess. Why should I care for yours?"
Now she was just being difficult. "You said that I tasted of high magic and sex. Or have you forgotten me so quickly, Queen Niceven?" I made my face fall, my eyes downcast. "Did it mean so little to you?" I shrugged, and let my newly shoulder-length hair fall across my face. I spoke behind a curtain of hair that sparkled like spun rubies. "If the blood of the heir to the throne means nothing to you, then I have nothing to offer." I turned my eyes toward her, knew the effect that those tricolored green and gold eyes could have through a frame of blood auburn hair, coupled with glimpses of skin like polished alabaster. I'd grown up among women, and men, who used their beauty like a weapon. I would never have dreamed of doing it with another sidhe, because they were all more beautiful than I, but with Niceven and her hungry eyes that followed my men, with her, I could use my own other-worldliness as she'd tried to use hers.
She slapped her tiny hand on the arm of her chair hard enough to startle the white mouse. "By Flora, you are your aunt's blood. Prince Cel has never mastered his beauty as Andais has, and as you have."
I gave a small bow, because it's always hard to bow from a sitting position. "A pretty compliment from a lovely queen."
She preened, smiling, petting the mouse, leaning back in her chair so that her sheer dress showed off more of her body. Her body had gone past slender into cadaverous, so that it was like looking at a little starved thing. But she thought her body was beautiful, and I could show nothing less in my face.
Frost stayed unmoving a little behind me. He'd removed his belt, his shoulder holster, his suit jacket, but nothing else. Even his shoes were still on. He was not going to strip for Niceven.
Doyle on the other hand had removed his shoulder holster, his belt, and his shirt. The silver ring in his left nipple glinted so that Niceven could see it, even in profile. Rhys continued to work at all that thick black hair as if he were smoothing out the train of a dress.
The men moved about me like ladies-in-waiting preparing themselves for bed. They left me alone to deal with Niceven. Which meant I was doing all right on my own. Good to know.