He nodded and turned to Maeve and Galen. "What happened?"
They both started to talk at once, and he held up a hand. "Ladies first." He motioned her away from the bed, and they went to the far side of the bedroom to talk. The bedroom was almost bigger than my old apartment, so there was plenty of room for privacy. Rhys gave me a smile, then trailed them so he could hear.
That left Galen with me. He still hadn't touched me. I badly needed to be touched, to have that reassurance. "Why won't you touch me?"
He smiled down at me, but his hands were clasped in his lap. "Believe me, it's hard not to, but you touched Maeve and this major goddess energy came down, then Frost grabbed you to stop Maeve from using you, and it happened again, with him."
"Maeve using me?"
"We thought she'd called out her major-goddess-seductive powers on you. It wasn't until Frost used his power to break what we thought was her hold on you that we realized something else was happening." He started to reach out to, touch my arm, then put his hand back in his lap. "I can feel how badly you need comforting, and Consort knows I want to hold you right now, but I'm afraid that if I touch you, it'll happen again."
"I don't buy that I brought on anyone's godhead," I said.
He nodded. "I know, but Maeve says she's had it done to her before. She should know what it feels like."
"I'm mortal, Galen. I'm the first sidhe ever to be born mortal, no matter how much mixed blood they had. Mortal hand cannot bring on immortal power. It's not logical."
He shrugged. "If you have a better explanation for what just happened, Merry, I will be happy to hear it." His green eyes, the color of summer grass, grew anxious. "I thought for a moment, Merry - " He shook his head, and bit his lip, before he could finish. " - I thought we'd lost you." He leaned over me, as if he'd kiss me, but was careful not to touch. "I thought I'd lost you."
I raised my hand to touch his face, and Doyle called from across the room. "Not yet, Princess. Let's be cautious until I've heard Galen's half of the story."
I lowered my hand reluctantly. I didn't like it, but it wasn't worth the risk, not yet. "Fine."
Galen smiled at me as he slid off the bed. "Just for now, Merry, just for now." He walked across the room toward the huddled group. He had a way of walking as if he danced, danced to some music that only he could hear. Sometimes when he held me, I could almost hear it; almost.
Nicca came to stand at the foot of the bed. He'd regained his breath, but he still looked scared. Intellectually, I knew he was centuries older than Galen, but he seemed younger than the other guards. Age in years doesn't always tell the tale. He looked very young, and very worried as he leaned his six-foot frame against the edge of the bed. His hair fell in a shining brown curtain nearly to his knees. He'd left it loose, and his deep brown dress slacks and suit jacket peeked through the richer brown of his hair. The hair framed the moss green of his T-shirt, so that I was more aware than normal of how nice his chest was. The T-shirt was silk, a gift from Maeve. She'd given all the men silk tees in varying colors to complement their skin tone. She'd given me a shopping spree at her favorite stores, on the theory that as a woman I'd be happier picking out my own clothes, and the men would rather have the choices made for them. She was half right. Though everyone had taken the gifts, they then traded the colors around among themselves until everyone was happy.
The moss-green shirt had originally been Galen's, but it looked better on Nicca, brought out the rich brown of his skin. It had just made Galen look green. That rich brown body in its tailored suit sat down on the far edge of the bed. He flipped his hair out of the way without thinking about it, the way a woman would. "You look better than you did a few minutes ago." His voice held an edge of shakiness.
"How did I look?"
He blinked at me and turned away as if he knew how easily his thoughts played across his face. "Pale, very, very pale." He looked back at me with what I think was supposed to be a poker face, but wasn't. There was too much tightness around his eyes, too much worry in their perfectly brown depths. He glanced toward the far side of the room. The huddle had broken up, and everyone was walking this way.
Doyle looked down at me, his face inscrutable darkness. I'd have played poker with Nicca or Galen any day, but never Doyle. When he didn't want me to read his face, I couldn't.
"Meredith, Princess, we need to understand what is happening, but I cannot think of a way to guarantee your safety and still explore this problem."
I tried to read something from his dark face, and couldn't. "What does that mean, exactly, Doyle?"
"It means that we must experiment, and I do not know what will come of those experiments."
"Experiment how?" I asked.
"Maeve believes that you have reawakened the true magic within her - her godhead, for lack of a better term. She was once a goddess in truth, so you have only returned what was lost. But Frost was not a deity, and to him you have given powers that never flowed within his body." He managed to look grim without ever having changed expression.
"She told me the theory. She even mentioned a goddess name to go along with it, but Doyle, I am not Danu. I am so not a deity. How could it possibly be true?"
"When we fought the Nameless and it spilled wild magic on all of us, I believe there were powers that needed a goddess-shaped vessel to hold them. Maeve had been taken to safety by the time the fight ended. You were the only goddess-shaped vessel, Meredith. You were the closest the power could find to what it needed."