A Kiss of Shadows (47 page)

Doyle pressed his hands just above the glass. I felt his magic crawl through the room like a prickle of ants marching along my skin. Kitto raised his head to watch, resting his cheek against my thigh.

The power built to a push of pressure, as if you could clear it by making your ears pop, equalizing the pressure, but the only thing that would make the pressure ease was use. Doyle caressed the mirror, and it wavered like water. His fingertips were like stones thrown into a pool where the ripples spread outward. He made a small gesture with his hands, a flexing at wrist and hand, and the mirror was no longer clear. The surface was milky, like a cup of fog.

The mist cleared, and the queen sat on the edge of her bed, looking at us through the full-length mirror in her private quarters. She'd removed her gloves, but the rest of the outfit was intact. She'd been waiting for the call. I'd have bet a body part on it. Eamon's naked shoulder showed to one side of her. He was turned on one side as if asleep. The blond boy was kneeling beside her, propped on his elbows. He was naked, too, but he wasn't under the covers. His body was strong, but thin, a boy's body without the musculature of a man. I wondered again if he was really eighteen.

Doyle had stepped aside so that I was the first one that the queen's eyes sought. “Greetings, Meredith.” Her eyes took in the scene, the half-dressed goblin and Frost on the bed with me. She smiled and it was a pleased smile. I realized that the two scenes were similar. She had two men in her bed, and I had two men in mine. I hoped she was having a better time than I was. Or maybe I didn't.

“Greetings, Aunt Andais.”

“I thought you'd be all tucked into bed with one or more of your boys. You disappoint me.” She stroked her hand along the boy's bare back, sweeping at the end of the oval, fingertips across his buttocks. It was an idle gesture, like you'd pet a dog.

My voice came out very neutral, carefully empty. “Griffin was here when we arrived. He says you sent him.”

“I did,” she said. “You agreed to sleep with my spy.”

“I didn't agree to sleep with Griffin. I thought after our little talk you understood how I felt about him.”

“No,” Andais said. “No, I didn't understand that at all. In fact, I wasn't sure you knew how you felt about him yourself.”

“I don't feel anything about him,” I said. “I just want him out of my sight, and I am certainly not going to sleep with him.” I realized as soon as I said the last part that she might insist on it out of sheer perversity. I added, quickly, “I want to know he's celibate again. He was freed of the geas ten years ago so he could sleep with me, but he used his freedom to fuck everyone that would have him. I want him to know that I'm sleeping with the other guards, that they're getting sex and he's not. That unless I consent to lie with him that he may never have sex again for the rest of his so unnatural life.” I smiled as I spoke and realized it was the truth. Goddess bless me, it was vindictive, but it was true.

Andais laughed again. “Oh, Meredith, you may be more my bloodline than I ever dared hope. As you will. Send him back to his lonely bed.”

“You heard her,” I said. “Get out.”

“If it's not me,” Griffin said, “it will be someone else. Maybe you should ask her who she will send to replace me in your bed.”

I looked at my aunt. “Who are you going to send to replace Griffin?”

She held out her hand, and a man stepped into view as if he'd been patiently waiting for his cue. His skin was the color of soft spring lilacs, his knee-length hair the color of pink Easter-egg grass. His eyes were like pools of liquid gold. It was Pasco, Rozenwyn's twin brother.

I stared at him, and he stared back. We had never been friends. In fact there was a time or two I'd thought we were enemies.

Griffin laughed. “You can't be serious, Merry. You'd let Pasco fuck you before me?”

I stared at Griffin. He'd stopped glowing and looked almost ordinary as he stood there. He was angry, so angry that there was a fine tremble in his hands as he pointed to the mirror.

“Griffin, honey,” I said, “I'd let a hell of a lot of men in my bed before you.”

The queen laughed, drawing Pasco down until he sat in her lap, like a child visiting Santa Claus in the mall. She stared out at me, running her hands through Pasco's cotton-candy hair. “You agree to Pasco as my spy?”

“I agree.”

Pasco's eyes widened just a bit at that, as if he'd expected at least a little protest on my part. But I just wasn't up to it tonight.

Andais caressed a hand up Pasco's clothed back. “I think you have surprised him. He told me you'd never agree to sharing a bed with him.”

I shrugged. “It's not a fate worse than death.”

“Very true, niece of mine.”

Our eyes met through the nothing of the mirror. She nodded and pushed the man to his feet. She slapped his butt as he walked out of frame. “He'll be right over.”

“Great,” I said. “Now get out, Griffin.”

Griffin hesitated, then walked into view of the mirror. He glanced from one to the other of us. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it. Probably the wisest thing he could have done.

He bowed, “My queen.” He turned to me. “I will see you again, Merry.”

I shook my head. “What for?”

“You did love me once,” he said, and it was almost a question, almost a plea.

I could have lied—there was no spell on me—but I didn't. “Yes, Griffin, I loved you, once.”

He looked at me, eyes roving over the bed and the smorgasbord of men. “I am sorry, Merry.” He sounded sincere.

“Sorry you lost me, sorry you killed my love for you, or sorry that you can't fuck me anymore?”

“All of it,” he said. “I'm sorry for all of it.”

“Good boy. Now get out,” I said.

Something passed across his face, something close to pain, and for the first time I thought that maybe, just maybe, he understood what he'd done was wrong. He unlocked the door, stepped outside, and when the door closed behind him, I knew he was gone, gone in a way beyond simply not being around. He was not my honey bun anymore, not my special person.

I sighed and leaned back against the wall. Kitto snuggled close, sliding one bare leg up and down against mine. I wondered if there was a chance in hell of me getting any alone time tonight.

I looked at the mirror again. “You knew I wouldn't accept Griffin as your spy, not if it meant having sex with him.”

She nodded. “I needed to know how you truly felt about him, Meredith. I had to be sure that you weren't still in love with him.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because love can interfere with lust. Now I'm sure that you are rid of him in your heart. I am pleased.”

“I'm just tickled pink that you're pleased,” I said.

“Have a care, Meredith. I don't like sarcasm directed at me.”

“And I don't like having my heart cut out for your pleasure.” The moment I said it, I knew it was a mistake.

Her eyes narrowed. “When I cut your heart out, Meredith, you'll know it.” The mirror spilled into fog, then was suddenly reflective again. I stared at myself in the mirror, my pulse thudding in my throat.

“Having your heart cut out,” Galen said. “Poor, poor choice of words.”

“I know,” I said.

“In the future,” Doyle said, “keep your temper. Andais doesn't need any help coming up with awful ideas.”

I pushed Kitto away. I lifted my foot off the bed, carefully, using the bedside table to stand up.

“What are you doing?” Doyle asked.

“I am going to clean some of this blood and dirt off, then go to bed.” I looked at the men gathered in the room. “Who wants to help me run my bath?”

The silence was suddenly very thick. The men looked at one another as if not sure what to do, or say. Galen stepped forward, gave me his hand to help me stand. I took the hand, but shook my head. “You can't be with me tonight, Galen. It has to be someone who can finish what we start.”

He looked at the floor for a second or two, then up. “Oh.” He helped me back to the bed and I let him do it, then he walked to the chair where'd he'd thrown his leather jacket. “I'm going to see about getting a second room next to this one, then I'm going for a walk. Who's going with me?”

They all looked at each other again, little eye flits from one to the other. No one seemed to know how to handle the situation. “How does the queen choose between you all?” I asked.

“She simply requests the guard, or guards, she wishes to have for the evening,” Doyle said.

“Don't you have a preference?” Frost asked, and there was something almost hurt in his tone.

“You say that like there's a bad choice here. There is no bad choice; you are all lovely.”

“I have had my release with Meredith,” Doyle said, “so I will bow out for tonight.”

That got everyone's attention, and Doyle had to explain very briefly exactly what he meant by the comment. Frost and Rhys looked at each other, and suddenly there was a tension in the air that hadn't been there before.

“What's wrong?” I asked.

“You must choose, Meredith,” Frost said.

“Why?” I asked.

Galen answered, “You can't bring it down to just two of us without the danger of a duel.”

“It's not just two, it's three,” I said.

They all looked at me, then slowly at the goblin still on the bed. He looked as surprised as they did. He stared back at us with large eyes. He looked almost frightened. “I would never presume to compete with the sidhe.”

“Kitto is coming in the bathroom regardless of who else comes in,” I said.

Every pair of eyes in the room swiveled back to me. “What did you say?” Doyle asked.

“You heard me. I want the alliance with the goblins sealed, that means I have to share flesh with Kitto, and that's what I'm going to do.”

Galen went for the door. “I'll be back later.”

“Wait for me,” Rhys said.

“You're leaving?” I asked.

“As much as I want you, Merry, I don't do goblins.” He walked out with Galen; they shut the door behind them, and Doyle locked it.

“Does this mean you're staying?” I asked.

“I will guard the outer door,” Doyle said.

“What if we wish to use the bed?” Frost asked.

Doyle looked thoughtful, then shrugged. “I can wait just outside the room if you feel the need of the bed.”

There was a little more negotiating. Frost wanted it clear that he did not have to touch the goblin. I agreed. Frost picked me up and carried me into the bathroom. Kitto was already in the room running the water for the bath. He glanced up as we entered. He'd taken off Galen's shirt and was back to just his silver thong. He said nothing to us, just watched us with his huge blue eyes, one hand trailing under the water as it poured from the faucet.

Frost looked around the small room. He finally sat me on the counter by the sink. He stood in front of me, and suddenly it was awkward. The kiss in the car had been wonderful, but it was the first time Frost and I had ever touched each other. Now suddenly we were supposed to have sex—with an audience.

“Awkward, isn't it?” I said.

He nodded. The movement sent that thin veil of silver hair gliding around his body. He reached out, slowly, tentatively, to the dress's jacket. He pushed the velvet off my shoulders, slowly, sliding it over my arms. I started to help him with the sleeves, but he said, “No, let me.”

I put my hands back at my sides, and he pulled the sleeves off one hand, then the other. He dropped the jacket to the floor. He ran the tips of his fingers down the bare skin of my shoulders. It raised goose bumps down to my fingertips.

“Undo your hair,” I said.

He took out the first bone clip, then the second, and the hair fell around him in a glorious spill of Christmas-tree tinsel. I reached out and grabbed a handful of it. It looked like silver wire, but it felt soft as satin, with a texture like spun silk.

He stepped close enough that his legs brushed mine. He ran his hands over my bare arms. His touches were so tentative, as if he was afraid to caress me. “If you will lean forward, I will unzip the dress.”

I did what he asked, leaning my head against his chest. The sheer material of his shirt was scratchy, but his hands as they unzipped the dress were slow, gentle. His fingertips slid inside the open dress, circling the smooth skin of my back.

I tried to pull the shirt out of his pants, but it wouldn't budge. “I can't get the shirt out.”

“It is fastened so it lies smoothly,” he said.

“Fastened?” I made the word a question.

“I would have to take the pants off to get the shirt off.” He was blushing, a wonderful pale red rose color.

“What's wrong, Frost?”

The bathwater stopped running. Kitto said, “The water is ready, Mistress.”

“Thank you, Kitto.” I looked at Frost. “Answer the question, Frost. What's wrong?”

He looked down, all that shining hair acting like a curtain. He turned away from me to face the far wall, so even the goblin couldn't see his face.

“Frost, please don't make me hop down from the counter to make you look at me. I don't need to twist another ankle.”

He spoke without turning around. “I do not trust myself with you.”

“In what way?” I asked.

“In the way of a man with a woman.”

I still wasn't understanding him. “I still don't understand, Frost.”

He turned suddenly to face me, eyes a dark storm grey with anger. “I want to fall on you like some ravening beast. I don't want to be gentle. I just want.”

“Are you saying you don't trust yourself not to . . .” I searched for a word, but had to settle for, “rape me?”

He nodded.