He hesitated for a breath, then he gave a nod that was almost a bow, and trotted after the rapidly moving gurney. I hadn't gotten to kiss Doyle good-bye. No, it wasn't good-bye. He was one of the sidhe. The greatest magicians and warriors that faerie had ever known. He would not die from burns, not even magical ones. I believed my own words in the front of my head, but the back of the mind is a cluttered, dark place that has nothing to do with logic and everything to do with fear.
I made myself start walking toward Frost's tall figure. One step at a time. I realized I had the gun still na**d in my hand. The glamour hid it, but my concentration was bad. Did I want the Seelie to see the gun? Did I care? No. Should I care? Probably.
I moved my jacket aside to put the gun back in its holster. I had to stop walking to do it, but I put it away. One of the main reasons I did it was because if Taranis managed to break free of his men and come back to the mirror, I didn't trust myself not to use the gun. That, I knew, would be bad. No matter how momentarily satisfying it might be, I was a princess, trying to be a queen, and that meant I couldn't indulge in fits of temper. They were too costly, as today's little disaster had proven. Damn Taranis, damn him, for not stepping down years ago.
I took a deep breath that shook around the edges. My stomach rolled with all the emotions I couldn't afford right now. I walked toward Frost and the mirror and Sir Hugh. I prayed to the Goddess that I wouldn't fall apart in front of the Seelie. Andais had temper tantrums that were infamous. Now Taranis had shown himself to be even more unstable. I walked to the mirror and prayed that I would be the ruler we needed right now. I prayed that I wouldn't fall apart or throw up. Nerves, just nerves. Please, Goddess, let Doyle be all right.
Once I said the prayer I truly meant, I felt calmer. Yes, I wanted to be a good queen. Yes, I wanted to show the Seelie that I wasn't as crazy as my aunt and uncle, but truly, none of it mattered to me as much as the man they'd just carted away on a gurney.
It wasn't the way a queen thought. It was the way a woman thought, and to be queen means you have to be queen first and everything else second. My father had taught me that. Taught me that before an assassin had killed him. I pushed the thought away, and went to stand by my Killing Frost.
I would be the queen that my father had raised me to be. I would not embarrass Doyle by being less than he'd told me I could be.
I stood straight, drawing myself up to every inch of height that I had. The three-inch heels helped, although standing beside Frost's tall figure, I couldn't help but seem delicate.
But I stood there and did my duty and it tasted like ashes in my mouth.
Chapter 7
SIR HUGH BELENUS GAVE A LOW BOW THAT SHOWED THAT HIS fire-colored hair had started the day in a complicated braid, but singed ribbons trailed from its remnants. When he stood up, I could see that the front of his tunic, all the way through two layers of undershirts, had been blasted apart to expose the pale golden skin underneath. The clothing was ruined, scorched, but his body seemed untouched.
"Sir Hugh stood in front of Taranis at the end," Frost said. "He took the brunt of the blow meant for Abeloec." Frost said.
"What am I to say to that?" I asked, and my voice sounded completely normal. The very normality of it was almost shocking. A little voice in my own head thought, how can I sound so calm? Training? Shock?
"If Sir Hugh were not one of the elder sidhe, you could thank him for risking himself to save our warriors," Frost said.
I looked up at the tall man beside me. I stared all the way up to those gray eyes and found that they reflected a bare tree in a winter landscape, like a tiny snow globe caught in his eyes. Only his own magic or anxiety would fill his eyes with that image. Always before it had dizzied me to stare into Frost's eyes when they filled with that other place. Today, it seemed cool, calming. Today, he had the icy strength of winter in his eyes. A coldness that protected you, kept your emotions from eating you alive. I understood in that moment part of what had let Frost survive the queen's petty torments. He had embraced the coldness inside.
I touched his arm, and the world was a little steadier. There was something moving in the landscape of his eyes; something white, and horned. I had a glimpse of a white stag before Frost bent to kiss me. It was a chaste kiss, but that one gentle touch let me know that he understood what the calmness cost me. That kiss let me know that he understood what Doyle meant to me, and what he meant to me, and what he did not.
I turned back to the mirror with Frost's hand in mine.
Sir Hugh said, "I saw a vision in the sunlight, a white stag. It walked ghostlike just behind the two of you."
"How long has it been since you saw such a vision?" Frost asked.
Hugh blinked black eyes at me, but there were orange sparks and swirls in that blackness, like the ashes of a fire long banked. "A long time."
"You don't seem surprised at your vision, Sir Hugh," I said.
"There are swans in the lake near the Seelie mound. Swans with gold chains around their necks. They flew above us for the first time ever in this country, the night of your battle with the wild hunt."
Rhys's voice came casually from behind us. "Have a care what you say, Hugh. We have lawyers present." Rhys came to stand on my other side, but made no move to take my other hand.
"Yes, our king has chosen a most regrettable moment to show this side of himself."
"Regrettable moment," I said, and didn't try to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. "Such mild words for what has just happened."
"I cannot afford anything but mild words, Princess," Hugh said.
"This insult to us cannot go unanswered," I said, voice still calm.