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Authors: Laurell K. Hamilton
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to do with defending the constitution?”
Rhys said, “Merry, if Taranis could be king of this country, he would be, and he would rule with the same arrogance and cruel carelessness that he has displayed toward the Seelie Court.”
“There is no danger of him ruling this country, and you know that.”
“I do, but he still needs killing.”
“Because he raped me?” I asked, and studied his face as I said it. It had taken me months to say the words that casually.
Rhys nodded. “Oh, for that, definitely for that.”
“Definitely,” Doyle said.
“Yes,” Galen said.
“If it would not cause war between the sluagh and the Seelie Court, yes.”
“I am too weak to ever harm anyone so powerful, but if I could kill him for what he did to you, I would,” Royal said.
The demi-fey that were still fluttering tiny and fragile-looking among the roses and blossoms in the room rose in a cloud of wings and said in small voices, “Command us, Merry, and we will do what you need.”
“Are you saying you would kill Taranis for me?”
“Yes.” They said it in unison like birds chirping a word all at once.
“Rid me of this inconvenient man, really?”
“Yes,” they sang again.
“No, I would not send so many of the demi-fey to their death. I do not want vengeance so badly that I would sacrifice all of you.”
“And that is why we would do it for you,” Royal said.
I shook my head. “No, no more deaths of those I value. I’ve lost too many people and seen too much blood spilled because of the madness of kings and queens.”
“Then what do you want us to do about him?” Rhys asked.
“I don’t know; if he loses his head and tries to come near me or the babies again, then we kill him. I won’t let him hurt me again, and I won’t let him near our children.”
“We kill him then,” Doyle said.
“If we can,” Rhys said.
“Oh, we can kill him,” Galen said, as if it were a matter of fact and not a nearly impossible feat.
“How can you be so sure?” Rhys asked.
Galen’s face wore that new harsher expression as he hugged our son. “Because if he comes for Merry and we don’t kill him, he’ll hurt her again, and we won’t allow that.”
“So we’ll kill him, because we have to,” Rhys said.
Galen nodded. “Yes.”
The men all looked at each other and then at me, and I saw the beginnings of a determination that could only end in one way. Taranis, King of Light and Illusion, was going to have to die.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
THE TRIPLETS WERE in the nursery with Doyle, Frost, and a handful of other guards watching over them while the nurses and doctors did last-minute things in preparation for going home. Galen, Rhys, and I were in the room trying to figure out how we were going to get everything else home. Flowers and other gifts had come from friends, but most of it was from strangers. The fact that Princess Meredith had had her babies had made the news, and America was thrilled to have their faerie princess have triplets! I appreciated the thought, but we were a little overwhelmed by their generosity.
“We’ll need a van just to cart all the flowers and presents home,” Rhys said. He stood in the middle of the room with his hands on hips, surveying all the bouquets, balloons, stuffed animals, potted plants, and gift baskets of food that filled most of the room. We’d started turning away some of the well-meaning gifts, because we needed to leave room for us and the medical personnel to use the room. The hospital had been much happier with the florist shop invasion than with the plants that were still growing in the room. The blooming apple tree curled above all of it. The treetop was pushed against the ceiling as if still trying to grow taller, as if it had come up against the sky and been surprised to find it solid and unforgiving. The nurses had asked if the tree was permanent, and I’d given the only answer I had: I didn’t know.
They were even less happy with the wild roses around the
Rhys said, “Merry, if Taranis could be king of this country, he would be, and he would rule with the same arrogance and cruel carelessness that he has displayed toward the Seelie Court.”
“There is no danger of him ruling this country, and you know that.”
“I do, but he still needs killing.”
“Because he raped me?” I asked, and studied his face as I said it. It had taken me months to say the words that casually.
Rhys nodded. “Oh, for that, definitely for that.”
“Definitely,” Doyle said.
“Yes,” Galen said.
“If it would not cause war between the sluagh and the Seelie Court, yes.”
“I am too weak to ever harm anyone so powerful, but if I could kill him for what he did to you, I would,” Royal said.
The demi-fey that were still fluttering tiny and fragile-looking among the roses and blossoms in the room rose in a cloud of wings and said in small voices, “Command us, Merry, and we will do what you need.”
“Are you saying you would kill Taranis for me?”
“Yes.” They said it in unison like birds chirping a word all at once.
“Rid me of this inconvenient man, really?”
“Yes,” they sang again.
“No, I would not send so many of the demi-fey to their death. I do not want vengeance so badly that I would sacrifice all of you.”
“And that is why we would do it for you,” Royal said.
I shook my head. “No, no more deaths of those I value. I’ve lost too many people and seen too much blood spilled because of the madness of kings and queens.”
“Then what do you want us to do about him?” Rhys asked.
“I don’t know; if he loses his head and tries to come near me or the babies again, then we kill him. I won’t let him hurt me again, and I won’t let him near our children.”
“We kill him then,” Doyle said.
“If we can,” Rhys said.
“Oh, we can kill him,” Galen said, as if it were a matter of fact and not a nearly impossible feat.
“How can you be so sure?” Rhys asked.
Galen’s face wore that new harsher expression as he hugged our son. “Because if he comes for Merry and we don’t kill him, he’ll hurt her again, and we won’t allow that.”
“So we’ll kill him, because we have to,” Rhys said.
Galen nodded. “Yes.”
The men all looked at each other and then at me, and I saw the beginnings of a determination that could only end in one way. Taranis, King of Light and Illusion, was going to have to die.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
THE TRIPLETS WERE in the nursery with Doyle, Frost, and a handful of other guards watching over them while the nurses and doctors did last-minute things in preparation for going home. Galen, Rhys, and I were in the room trying to figure out how we were going to get everything else home. Flowers and other gifts had come from friends, but most of it was from strangers. The fact that Princess Meredith had had her babies had made the news, and America was thrilled to have their faerie princess have triplets! I appreciated the thought, but we were a little overwhelmed by their generosity.
“We’ll need a van just to cart all the flowers and presents home,” Rhys said. He stood in the middle of the room with his hands on hips, surveying all the bouquets, balloons, stuffed animals, potted plants, and gift baskets of food that filled most of the room. We’d started turning away some of the well-meaning gifts, because we needed to leave room for us and the medical personnel to use the room. The hospital had been much happier with the florist shop invasion than with the plants that were still growing in the room. The blooming apple tree curled above all of it. The treetop was pushed against the ceiling as if still trying to grow taller, as if it had come up against the sky and been surprised to find it solid and unforgiving. The nurses had asked if the tree was permanent, and I’d given the only answer I had: I didn’t know.
They were even less happy with the wild roses around the
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