“Gwennin,” Andais said, sounding puzzled, “you are no friend to those here.” She said aloud what I’d been thinking. I wondered if that was a good sign or a bad one. Was I getting better at the politics, or was she getting worse?
“He says he acted alone. That he resented the princess inviting in the human police. That it was beneath our court to take their help. So he set a spell that would have rendered them useless, or even killed them, if we had carried it to them.”
“Carried it?”
“He put it on Biddy, for she is half-human, and everyone of human blood she touched was contaminated.”
Gwennin found his voice, even flat on the floor between Usna and Cathbodua. “That the spell was able to work on the princess proves she is human.”
Cathbodua gave him a back-handed slap. “Speak when you are spoken to, traitor.”
“Yes,” Andais said, “they are all traitors. So many traitors. But none of them tried to take Meredith’s life. They tried to take Galen’s, they tried to stop the humans from entering our sithen, but they have not tried to kill Meredith. Interesting, that.”
I thought about it, and realized she was right. I looked at Doyle, and he met my look with one of his own. It was interesting, and puzzling.
“Why would Cel’s guard be more interested in killing your green knight than in killing you?” Andais said conversationally.
I tried to keep my voice as casual, and almost succeeded. “If any of his people try to kill me, Cel’s life is forfeit, but killing my allies is not an automatic death sentence for their prince.”
“But why Galen, Meredith? If I were going to strip you of your allies it would be Darkness or the Killing Frost.”
“Or Barinthus,” I said.
She nodded. “Yes, that was well done.” She looked at Kieran and his wife, who still had Hawthorne’s knife at her throat. “If I kill Barinthus, then one of my most powerful guards is dead. If he kills me, then you are rid of me, and can be the first to suggest that he needs to die for his actions.” She moved in her chair as if settling her skirts more comfortably. “Oh yes, Kieran, good plan. You made only one mistake.”
He looked up at her. “And what was that?”
“You underestimated the princess, and her men.”
“I will not make the same mistake again,” he said, and gave me an unfriendly look.
“Kieran, that sounded like a threat to the princess.” Andais looked at me. “Did that not sound like a threat to you, Meredith?”
“Yes, Aunt Andais, it did.”
“Frost, did Kieran just threaten the princess?”
“Yes,” Frost said.
“Darkness,” she said.
“Yes, he threatened the princess, or threatened to plan better the next time he plots to kill you, Your Majesty.”
“Yes, that is what I heard, as well.” She looked out at the nobles. “Blodewedd, did you hear him threaten me and mine?”
Blodewedd took in a deep sighing breath, then gave a small nod.
“I need to hear it aloud for all the court,” Andais said.
“Kieran has been foolish this day. More foolish than I or my house can support or salvage.”
Kieran looked at her, frightened for the first time. “My lady, you are my liege lord, you cannot mean…”
“Do not involve me in your stupidity, Kieran. Madenn is your wife and has always been your shadow. But if you could have persuaded more of your own house to take your part, I do not believe you would have enlisted Innis’s help.”
“An interesting point.” Andais gazed down at the unconscious form of Innis. “Dormath, I offer you a choice. One of your people must die. Innis or Siobhan, choose.”
“My queen,” Doyle said, “I would ask that Innis be spared, and Siobhan…”
“I know who you would kill, Darkness.” She looked at me. “I even know who you would have me slay, Meredith, but you are not their liege. I want Dormath to choose, so that the rest of his house will understand that he will not protect them.”
“My queen, do not make me choose among my lords and ladies.”
“Would you take their place, Dormath? Would you offer yourself to save Innis and Siobhan both? I am willing to entertain such a bargain, if you are willing to offer it.”
Dormath’s face got even whiter, something I didn’t think possible. He blinked his large, dark eyes slowly. Were we about to see Dormath, the door of death, faint?
“Come, Dormath, it is a simple question,” Andais said. “You are either willing to pay for the crimes of your house, or you are not. Nerys was willing to give her life for her house.”
Dormath’s voice came thin and reedy, as if he was struggling to keep it even. “Her entire house had joined her in her treachery. My house is innocent of wrongdoing, save for these two.”
“Then choose, Dormath. I cannot deny the princess her call for a death. She is within her rights.”
“A death, yes,” Dormath said, “but not an execution. She is within her rights to challenge them to combat, and take their life if she can.”
“That might be true, Lord Dormath,” I said, “if Siobhan had attacked me one-on-one, but she did not. She attacked with the aid of two others. She ambushed me. This was no one-on-one combat. This was an assassination attempt, pure and simple.”
“Innis did not even attack you,” Dormath argued, “he attacked the green knight. Surely it should be he who demands the life debt.”
“Do you think he will show more mercy than the princess?” Andais asked.
“I think Galen has always been a fair man,” Dormath said.
Galen pressed my hand tight in his and sighed. It was not a happy sound. “I tried to be fair, and just, and good, whatever that means. Siobhan told me once that I belong in the Seelie Court, where they try to pretend they are something they’re not. I asked her what they try to pretend to be. Human, she said, and made it sound like a curse.” I watched his face grow solemn, and very unlike my Galen. “Do you really expect me to help you save the lives of the people who tried to kill me?”
The two sidhe looked at each other, and it was Dormath who looked away first. He spoke with his eyes lowered, so that he met no one’s gaze. “One tries to know their opposition and use their strengths and weaknesses against them.”
“Why am I your opposition?” Galen asked.
Dormath spoke to the queen as if he hadn’t heard Galen. “My queen, I would ask that you do not make me choose between my people. One has done, perhaps, the lesser crime, but I have more affection for the other.”
“Answer Galen’s question,” Andais said.
Dormath blinked those deep, shining eyes and looked at her. His thin face showed nothing. “And what question would that be, my queen?”
“I tire of word games quickly, Dormath,” she said. “I suggest you bear that in mind. I will tell you once more. Answer Galen’s question.”
Dormath shivered, and the long black cloak gave the illusion of feathers settling around his body. “I do not think your son would want this question answered in open court.”
I looked at Andais then, my aunt, my queen. I did not know what Dormath was referring to, but she might. She had helped hide her son’s secrets for centuries. Her face was cold beauty, arrogant and perfect, every line of her like some statue carved to be the beauty that drives men not to love but to despair.
“Answer as much or as little of the question as you will, Dormath. Know that if you answer as fully as you might you will forfeit all of Prince Cel’s allies. For they will feel you betrayed them. Know also that there are those among us now who will condemn you as the blackest of traitors for going along with his plan.”
Dormath put out a long pale hand to steady himself against the table. “My queen…”
“Dormath, if you do not answer the question I will consider it a direct challenge to me, personally.”
“You would slay me to keep from revealing what he has done,” Dormath said.