Whatever would bring Rhys willingly into this room had to be important. Important today meant bad. Shit. Out loud I said, "Come in."
Kitto started to move away from me as if he were going to leave, but I grabbed his arm and kept him propped on his elbow above me. "This is your room. You don't leave."
Kitto looked doubtful but he stayed where I wanted him. He was good that way. He followed orders beautifully, which was more than I could say for most of the other men.
Rhys walked in, closing the door quietly behind him. I studied his face, and he looked peaceful enough. "Doyle is a very stubborn man even for a sidhe."
"You're just figuring that out?" I asked.
Rhys grinned. "Fair enough. I knew it already."
"He still won't let Merry sit by his side?" Kitto asked. He looked perfectly at ease beside me now, as if he had never considered moving away.
Rhys moved farther into the room as he spoke. "He says, "I am to protect her, not she me." He further says that you need your rest for tonight, not to sit and worry over him."
"I would have cuddled him while we both slept," I said.
"His loss, our gain," Rhys said, grinning again. He took off his jacket.
"Our gain," Kitto said, a lilt of surprise in his voice.
Rhys paused, jacket in one hand. His shoulder holster was very stark against the pale blue of his shirt. Though shoulder holster implied that it was just for guns and that wasn't true at all. All the men who had been with me for a few months had custom rigs made, I suspect by one of the leather workers inside faerie. No human could have made them so quickly and so perfectly. There were also intricate designs worked into the leather, and nearly ingenious ways to carry as many weapons as possible and still be able to slip modern jackets over them all.
Rhys stood there with a gun under one arm and a knife on the other. A second gun rode at his waist. There was also a short sword belted somehow across his back so that the hilt stuck a little out from behind his back on one side. He could grab it sort of like a gun worn at the small of the back.
"I touched you in the lawyer's office, and didn't feel all the weapons," I said. "There's a spell that affects sight and touch."
"If you didn't pick up on it, then it's as good as promised," Rhys replied.
"Why did I see the swords at Frost and Doyle's back?"
"The enchantment only works if you don't break the line of the clothing covering the holster. They keep insisting on huge swords that show around the edges of the jackets, so you see the swords. It also makes it more likely that people will notice their guns and other weapons. Once you draw attention to what amounts to an illusion, it begins to break down. You know that."
"But I didn't realize that was what the leather rigs were, bespelled."
He shrugged.
"It must have cost a pretty penny."
"They were gifts," he said.
I gave him wide eyes. "Not this much magical work."
"You made yourself pretty popular among the lesser fey when you gave your little speech in the hallway, about how most of your friends were below stairs when you were a child, not among the sidhe."
"It's true," I said.
"Yes, but it also helped win them to you. That and you being part brownie."
"A lesser fey did the leather work?" I asked.
He nodded. "While the sidhe have lost most of their magic, the lesser fey have held on to more than we knew. I think they were afraid to point out to the sidhe that the lesser fey hadn't faded as much as the greater fey."
"Wise of them," I said.
Rhys was at the foot of the bed now. "Not that I don't like my nifty new leather rig, but are you delaying so you can think of a polite way to send me away, or is there a question you don't want to ask?"
"Actually, I am interested in the magic on the leather. We may need all the magical help we can get soon. But this is the first time you've willingly come into Kitto's room when I've been with him. We're wondering what's up."
He nodded, and looked down, as if gathering his thoughts. "Unless you object, either of you, I'd like to join you for afternoon cuddling." He raised his face and displayed one of the most neutral expressions I'd ever seen from him. He usually hid his emotions behind a wry humor. Today he was serious. It wasn't like him.
"My opinion doesn't count," Kitto said, but he scooted down beside me, pulling the sheet up to cover most of himself.
Rhys put his jacket over one arm. "We've been over this, Kitto. You're sidhe now, which means you get to be as opinionated as the rest of us."
"Oh, please," I said. "Not as opinionated as all that. Kitto's sort of refreshingly undemanding."
Rhys smiled at me. "Are we that bad?"
"Sometimes," I said. "You're not as bad as some."
"Like Doyle," he said.
"Frost," said Kitto, then seemed shocked at his insult of the other man. He actually covered his face with the sheet, snuggling tightly against the side of my body. But there was a tension to him now that had nothing to do with sex. He was frightened.
Was he frightened of Rhys? He had tried to hurt, if not kill, Kitto on at least one occasion when I first brought him to Los Angeles. Apparently, a few movies and shopping trips couldn't make up for earlier hostility. Sort of like parents trying to win over kids in a divorce. If you're mean, all the treats in the world don't make up for it later.
Rhys had been mean, and Kitto had been hiding that he was still afraid of the other man. I had missed it completely. I had thought we were as much a big happy family as we were going to get. How could I rule these people if I couldn't even keep peace and safety among my own lovers?