He'd beaten my grandmother because she was ugly. Because she wasn't royal. Because she bore him twin daughters, and that meant that unless she agreed to end it, their marriage was forever. With Gran and Uar, they weren't kidding about forever.
She had only granted him a fey version of a divorce three years ago when I left the court. I'd wondered at the time if Gran had given him the divorce in exchange for him intervening on my behalf with Andais. He was powerful, and Andais respected that power. I'm not saying Uar threatened her. No, that would have been unwise. But he might have suggested that they let me go my own way for a time.
I'd never asked. I drew away from her and looked into those large brown eyes, so like my mother's. "Why did you grant him the divorce three years ago? Why then?"
"Because it was time, child, time to let him go."
"He didn't talk to Andais on my behalf, did he? That wasn't the price of his freedom from you, was it?"
She laughed loud and long. "Child, child, do you really think that old stuffed bucket would talk to the Queen of Air and Darkness? He's still not recovered from the embarrassment that his three sons were kicked out of his court and forced to become Andais's people."
I nodded. "My cousins are really not that bad. Modern surgical gloves are so thin it's almost like wearing nothing at all. They don't accidentally poison people by their touch anymore."
Gran hugged me again. "But poison coming from your hands does prevent you from being a blooded royal guard, doesn't it?"
"Well... yeah. But as long as you avoid the blood royal, there are women who are willing."
"In the Unseelie court I could believe it."
I looked at her.
She had the grace to look embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Merry. That was quite uncalled for on my part. I apologize. I should know better than most that there isn't that much to choose from between the two courts."
"I need to get to the hotel, Gran."
She walked me to the door, arm around my waist. "You be careful tonight, child, very careful."
"I will be." We stood staring at each other for a second or two, but what could we say. What can you ever say? "I love you, Gran."
"And I you, child." There were tears in those lovely brown eyes. She kissed me with those thin lips that had always touched me with more gentleness and love than my mother's beautiful face or lily white hands. Her tears were hot against my cheek. Her hands clung to me as I began to walk down the stairs. We tore away from each other, fingertips trembling in a last touch.
I glanced back many times to watch that small brown figure at the top of the stairs. They say not to look back, but if you're not sure what lies ahead, what else is there but looking back?
Chapter 23
THE HOTEL HAD ALL THE CHARM OF A FRESHLY OPENED BOX OF KLEENEX. Functional, somewhat decorative, but it was still a generic hotel with all the sameness that that implied.
We stepped through the lobby doors, Barinthus and Galen carrying my suitcases. I had the carry-on bag. I preferred to carry my own weapons, not that I thought I'd be able to get them out in time to use them if the gun and knife failed me, but it was good to have them close.
I'd been on the ground in St. Louis only for a few hours, and there'd already been an attempt on my life, and Galen's. It was not a comforting trend. The trend went downhill when I saw who was waiting in the lobby.
Barry Jenkins had beat us to the hotel. I'd made reservations in the name of Merry Gentry. It was not an alias I'd ever used in St. Louis. Which meant Jenkins knew it was me. Damn.
He'd make sure that the rest of the newshounds found me. And nothing I could say would help. If I asked him to keep it quiet, he'd just enjoy it more.
Galen touched my arm gently. He'd seen Jenkins, too. He led me to the desk as if afraid of what I'd do, because there was something in Jenkins's face as he rose from the comfortable lobby chair-something personal. He'd hurt me if he could. Oh, I don't mean he'd shoot me or stab me, but if something he could write could hurt me, he'd be happy to print it.
The woman behind the desk was smiling up at Barinthus. She had a good smile and had turned it up to about 100 watts, but Barinthus was all business. I'd never seen him be other than business. He never teased or tested the limits of the geas that the queen had placed upon him. He seemed simply to accept.
The woman's hand brushed mine as I took my key. I had a vivid glimpse of what she was thinking: Barinthus lying on white sheets, with all that multihued hair spread around his na**d body like a bed of silk.
My fist clenched at not just the image but the strength of her lust. I could feel her body clenched tight as my fist. She watched Barinthus with hungry eyes, and I spoke without thinking, using words to acknowledge and break the connection with the girl.
I leaned in close, and said, "The picture you have in your mind of him nude."
She started to protest, then let her words die, eyes large, licking her lower lip. She finally just nodded.
"You're not doing him justice."
Her eyes got even bigger, and she stared at Barinthus as he stood by the elevators.
I was still picking up her emotions. It happened sometimes, like picking up random bits of television or radio signal. But my bandwidth was narrow: lust images, mostly. Random lust images, and only from humans- I'd never gotten a flash from any other fey. I never understood why. "Want me to ask him to take off his coat so you can see better?"
That made her blush, and the image she'd built up in her mind crumbled under her embarrassment. Her mind was just a series of jumbles now. I was freed from her thoughts, her emotions.
I'd been told by one of the old fertility gods at the Seelie Court that being able to see other people's lust images was a useful tool if you were seeking priests and priestesses for your temple. People with strong lust could be used in ceremonies, the sexual energy harnessed and magnified so that their lust could be imparted to others. It had once been assumed that lust equated fertility. Unfortunately, not.