"So if you understood you'd stop interfering," I said.
"I am not interfering, Princess Meredith, you are. This is a hospital, not a royal bedchamber. Your men are disrupting the operation of this hospital by their very presence."
I smiled at him, and felt my eyes stay cool and untouched by it. "My men have done nothing. It is your staff that is failing. I thought all the hospitals in the area had been briefed about what to do if one of us was brought in. Didn't they tell you what to wear, or carry, to help the staff function?"
"The fact that your men are using active glamour to bespell our nurses and female doctors is an insult," Dr. Sang said.
Galen spoke from the other side of the room. He was slumped down in one of two chairs. "I've told him over and over that we aren't doing anything. It isn't active glamour, but he won't believe me."
He looked tired, a tightness around his eyes and mouth that I hadn't noticed before. The sidhe don't age, really, but there are signs of wear. The way a diamond can be cut by the right kind of blade.
"I do not have time to explain to you, but I won't allow you to stand between my people and my healers," I said.
"She admits," he motioned at Halfwen, "that her powers are not at full strength outside of faerie. She's not certain she can heal him. The more often his bandages are opened, especially with this many people here, the greater the chances that he'll get a secondary infection," Dr. Sang said.
"The sidhe do not get infections, Doctor," I said.
"Forgive me if I'm a little skeptical about that, Princess, but this man is my patient," Dr. Sang said. "I am responsible for him."
"No, Doctor, he is mine. He is my Darkness, my right hand. He would see himself as responsible for me, but I am trying to be his queen, which makes me responsible for all my people." I reached out to touch his hair, but drew back. I did not want to wake him if all we could offer was pain. For the healing we would disturb him, but simply because I could not bear to be so close and not touch him was not reason enough to wake him from the sleep that the drugs and shock had given him.
My hand ached to touch him, but I forced my hand into a fist at my side. Rhys's hand wrapped around my fist. I looked into his single triblue eye, his handsome face with the scars that had taken his other eye, only partially hidden by the white patch he'd worn today. I'd never known Rhys any other way. The face that rose above me when we made love, or looked up at me from the bed, was this face, scars and all. It was simply Rhys.
I touched his cheek. Would I love Doyle less if he was scarred? No, though it would be a loss for both of us. It would mean that the face I had grown to love would be forever changed. But dammit, he was sidhe. A simple burn shouldn't have damaged him like this.
As if Rhys read some of my thoughts, he said, "He will live."
I nodded. "But I want him healed."
"What about me?" Abe called from the other bed, and as so often, he sounded vaguely drunk. It was almost as if he'd spent so many years inebriated that he fell back into the behavior of it. A dry drunk, I think they called it, as if even without the drink and drugs, he wasn't entirely sober.
"I want you healed as well," I said. "Of course I do." But Abe knew where he stood in my affections, and he wasn't in my top five. He was okay with that. He, like many of the guards who had only been with us a few weeks, was just so happy to be having sex again that he hadn't had time to get his ego bruised by the competition.
"I really must insist, Princess, that you and all your men leave," Dr. Sang said.
The uniformed officer, Officer Brewer, said, "Sorry, doctor, but more guards is okay with us."
"Are you saying that these men may be attacked inside the hospital itself?" he asked.
Officer Brewer looked at his partner, Officer Kent. Kent, the taller of the two, just shrugged. I think they'd been told to stay near me, but not what to tell civilians. We'd stopped counting as civilians, to an extent, when we were attacked. Now we were in a different category for the police. Potential victims, maybe.
"Dr. Sang," Frost said, "I am in command of the princess' guard until my captain tells me otherwise. My captain lies here." He motioned toward Doyle.
"You may be in charge of the guard, but you are not in charge of this hospital." The doctor didn't even come up to Frost's collarbone. He had to tilt his head back at an extreme angle to look the taller man in the face, but he did it, and he gave him a look that clearly said that he wasn't backing down.
"We do not have time for this, Princess," Hafwen said.
I looked into her tricolored eyes; a ring of blue, silver, and an inner ring of lights as if light could be a color. "What do you mean?"
"We are outside faerie. That limits me as a healer. We stand in a building of metal and glass, a man-made structure. That also limits my powers. The longer the injury stays untended, the harder it will be for me to do anything for it."
I turned to Dr. Sang. "You heard her, doctor. You need to let my healer do her job."
"I could remove him from the room," Frost said.
"I'm not sure we can allow that," Officer Brewer said, sounding uncertain.
"How would you remove him?" Officer Kent asked.
"Good question," Officer Brewer said. "We can't really condone violence against the doctors."
"We don't need violence," Rhys said. He nuzzled my ear, playing with my hair. That one small touch made me shiver a little.
I turned so I could see his face more clearly. "Wouldn't that be unethical, too?" I asked.
"Do you really want Doyle to look like me? I know he doesn't want to lose an eye. It plays hell with your depth perception." He smiled and tried to make it a joke, but there was a bitterness to it that no smile could hide.
I kissed the bow of his mouth. He had one of the most beautiful mouths of all the men. Pouting and full, it softened the boyish handsomeness of his face into something more sensual.
He pushed me away, toward the doctor. "The doctor doesn't understand, and we don't have time to talk it to death, Merry."
"Um," Officer Brewer said, "what are you planning to do, Princess Meredith? I mean…" He looked at his partner. It was obvious that they felt out of their depth. Truthfully, I was surprised that there weren't more police here already. There were uniforms at the door, but no detectives, no higher echelon. It was almost as if the top brass was afraid of us right now. Not afraid of the danger. They were police; it was what they did. But afraid of the politics.
By now the rumors had spread. Goddess knew that King Taranis attacking Princess Meredith was juicy enough. But stories have a tendency to grow in the telling. Who knew what the police had been told by now? This case wasn't just a hot one, it was a potential career killer. Think about it—letting Princess Meredith get killed or having King Taranis injured on your watch. Either way, you were screwed.
"Doctor Sang," I said.
He turned to me, still frowning angrily. "I don't care how many policemen back you on this, there are too many people in this room for effective treatment."
I closed my eyes and let out a breath. Most humans have to do something to conjure magic. I spent most of my life shielding so I didn't perform magic by accident. Before my hands of power had come to me, just months ago, I spent time trying not to be distracted by passing spirits, small everyday wonders. Now all the practice keeping things out helped me keep things in, because my natural talents—as maybe my genetic heritage—had been kicked up a notch along with everything else.
Rhys said, "Stand back, boys."
The men moved back, and moved the two police officers with them. They gave the doctor and me a small circle of space. He glanced at them, eyes puzzled. "What's going on?"