USNA RELAXED HIS TALL, MUSCLED FRAME AGAINST THE SEAT, AS if we were on a pleasure drive. A sword hilt poked out of his long, loose hair, which fell around him in a riot of red, black, and white. The hair was patched, not striped like Abe's. Usna's eyes, though large and lustrous, were the plainest shade of gray that any of my guards could boast. But those shining gray eyes stared out through a veil of hair.
He'd had three reactions to his first time in the big city: one, he carried more weapons than he ever had in faerie; two, he seemed to hide behind his hair. He was always peering out of it, like a cat hiding in the grass until it springs on an unwary mouse. Three, he had joined Rhys in the weight room and added some bulk to that slender frame. The cat analogy came from the fact that he was spotted like a calico cat, and that his mother had been changed into the form of a cat when pregnant with Usna. She'd been pregnant by another Seelie sidhe's husband, and the scorned wife had decided that her outside should match her inside.
Usna had grown up, avenged his mother, and undone the spell, and his mother was living happily ever after in the Seelie Court. Usna had been exiled for some of the things he had done to avenge her. He'd thought it was a fair trade.
But it was Aisling, from his seat beside Doyle, who asked, "Not that I am complaining, Princess, but why are we in the main car? We all know that you have your favorites, and we are not among them." His comment about favorites echoed what Doyle and Frost had said earlier. But dammit, wasn't I entitled to have favorites?
I looked into Aisling's face, but could only truly see his eyes because he wore a veil wrapped around his head as some women did in Arabic countries. His eyes were spirals of colors that reached out from his pupil, not rings, but true spirals. The color of those spirals seemed to change, as if his eyes couldn't decide what color they wanted to be. He wore his long yellow hair in complicated braids at the back of his head so the veil could be securely tied.
Once, looking into Aisling's face had caused anyone, male or female, to fall instantly in lust with him. The legend said love, but Aisling had corrected me: It was lust unless he put effort into the magic; then it could be love. Once, even true love could have been broken by Aisling's touch. It had worked outside and inside faerie, once upon a time. We'd proven that he could still make someone who hated him fall madly in love, give up all her secrets, and betray every oath because of his kiss. It was why I had yet to bed Aisling - he and the other guards weren't sure if I was powerful enough to resist his spell.
His veil today was white, to match the old-fashioned clothes he wore. There hadn't been time to make new clothes for the newest guards, so they wore the tunics, pants, and boots that would have looked perfect in about fifteenth-century Europe, maybe a little later. Fashion moved slowly in faerie unless you were Queen Andais. She was fond of the latest and greatest designers, as long as they liked black.
Usna had borrowed jeans, T-shirt, and a suit jacket from someone. Only the soft boots that peeked from the leg of the jeans were his own. But then a cat is less formal than a god.
"Talk to them, Meredith," Doyle said, and there was the tiniest bit of strain in his voice. The limo was a smooth ride, but when you have second-degree burns that started the day as third-degree burns, well, I guess there's no such thing as a truly smooth ride.
His comment had sounded too much like an order, but the strain in his voice made me answer. The strain and the fact that I loved him. Love makes you do all sorts of foolish things.
"Do you know who attacked us?" I asked.
"I know Taranis's handiwork when I see it," Aisling said.
"The other guards said Taranis went mad and attacked you all," Usna said. He drew his knees up tight, arms laced around them, so that his eyes were framed with his jeans and his hair. It was a frightened child's pose, and I wanted to ask if being among all this man-made metal was hard on him. Some of the lesser fey would eventually die locked inside metal. It made prison a potential death sentence for faerie folk. Lucky that most of us didn't break human law.
"What prompted the attack?" Aisling asked.
"I'm not sure," I said. "He just went crazy. I actually don't know what happened in the room, because I was buried under a mound of bodyguards." I looked at Abe still lying in my lap, and glanced at Frost and Doyle. "What did happen?"
"The king attacked Doyle," Frost said.
"What neither will say," Abe said, "is that only Doyle throwing up his gun to deflect the spell saved him from being blinded. Taranis tried for his face, and he meant it to either kill or permanently maim. I haven't seen the old fart use his power that well in centuries."
"Aren't you older than he is?" I asked, peering down at him.
He smiled, "Older, yes, but in my heart I'm still a pup. Taranis let himself grow old inside. Most of us can't age the way a human can, but inside we can grow just as old. Just as unwilling to change with the times."
"The gun deflected Taranis's hand of power?" Usna asked.
"Yes," Doyle said, and he made a motion with his good hand. "Not all of it, obviously, but some."
"Guns are made out of all sorts of things that faerie magic doesn't like," I said.
"I'm not certain about the new polymer-frame guns," Doyle said. "The metal ones, yes, but since plastic doesn't seem to bother the lesser fey, I wouldn't swear that the new polymer guns would deflect anything."
"Why doesn't plastic bother the lesser fey?" Usna asked. "It's as man-made as metal, more so."
"Maybe it's not the man-made part, but the metal part that counts," Frost said.
"Until we know, I think only guns with more metal than plastic should be used by the guards," Doyle said.
Everyone just nodded.
"When Doyle fell, the humans started screaming and running," Frost said. "Taranis used his hand of power on the room, but he seemed confused, as if he didn't know what to target."
"When he stopped firing, Galen and I were ordered to get the princess, you, out of the room, and we tried," Abe said. "That's when Taranis decided on me." He shivered a little, his hand tightening on my leg.
I leaned over and laid a kiss on his temple. "I'm sorry you got hurt, Abe."
"I was doing my job."
"Was Abeloec his target?" Aisling asked. "Or did he try for the princess and miss?"
"Frost?" Doyle said.
"I believe he hit what he was aiming at, but when Abeloec fell, Galen picked the princess up, and he moved in a way that I have not seen anyone move except the princess herself inside faerie,"' Frost said.
"Galen didn't open the door, did he?" I asked.
"No," Frost said.
"Galen carried you through the door?" Usna asked.
"I don't know. One minute we were in the room, the next we were in the hallway. I honestly don't remember what happened at the door."
"You blurred, then vanished at the door," Frost said. "In that first moment, Meredith, I wasn't certain whether Galen had gotten you out or another Seelie trick had stolen you away."
"Then what happened?" I asked.
"The king's own guard jumped him," Abe said.
"Truly?" Aisling asked.
Abe grinned. "Oh, yeah. It was a sweet moment."
"His most trusted nobles attacked the king?" Usna asked, as if he couldn't believe it.
Abe's grin widened, until it crinkled the edges of his face. "Sweet, isn't it?"
"Sweet," Usna agreed.
"Was the king so easily subdued?" Aisling asked.
"No," Frost said, "he used his hand of power three more times. The last time Hugh stepped in front of him, and used his own body to shield the room and the people inside it."
"Hugh the Firelord was able to take Taranis's power at point-blank range?" Aisling asked.
"Yes," Frost said.
"His shirt was scorched, but his skin seemed untouched," I said.
"And how did you see Hugh?" Aisling asked, "if Galen had gotten you outside to safety."
"She came back," Frost said, and his voice was not happy.
"I could not leave you to the Seelie's treachery," I said.
"I ordered Galen to take you to safety," Frost said.
"And I ordered him not to."
Frost glared at me and I glared back.
"You couldn't leave Doyle hurt, maybe dying," Usna said softly.
"Maybe, yes, but also if I am ever to rule, truly rule a court of faerie, I must be able to lead in battle. We aren't humans to keep our leaders in the back. The sidhe lead from the front."
"You are mortal, Merry," Doyle said. "That changes some rules."
"If I am too mortal to rule, then so be it, but I must rule, Doyle."
"Speaking of ruling," Abe said, "tell them what Hugh said about our princess being made queen of the Seelie court."
"That can't be true," Usna said. He was staring at Abe and me.
"I swear it is true," Abe said.
"Has Hugh lost his senses?" Aisling asked. "No offense, Princess, but the Seelie will not allow an Unseelie noble who is part brownie, and part human to sit on the golden throne. Not unless the court has changed a great deal in the two hundred years of my exile."
"What say you, Usna?" Doyle asked, "Are you as shocked as Aisling?"
"Tell me first if Hugh gave reasons for his change of heart."
"He spoke of swans with golden chains, and there is a green faerie dog in the Seelie Court once more," Frost said.
"My mother tells me the Cu Sith had stopped the king from beating a servant," Usna said.
"And you didn't share this with anyone?" Abe asked.
Usna shrugged. "It didn't seem that important."
"Apparently, some of the nobles have taken the dog's disfavor as a sign against Taranis," Doyle said.
"Also, he went buggers, mad as a March fucking hare," Abe said.
"Well, there is that," Doyle said.
Aisling looked at me. "They offered you the throne of the Seelie Court, truly?"
"Hugh said something about a vote among the nobles, and that if it went against Taranis, which he seemed confident it would, he would get them to vote me in as heir apparent."
"What did you say?" Aisling asked.
"I said we'd have to talk to our queen before I could answer their generous offer."
"Will she be pleased, or pissed?" Usna asked.
I think it was a rhetorical question, but I said, "I don't know."
Doyle said, "I do not know."
Frost said, "I wish I knew."
We had a chance of being caught between a ruler of faerie who was crazy and a ruler of faerie who was simply cruel. I had found years ago that the difference between madness and cruelty doesn't matter much to a victim.