He hugged me tighter and leaned down to place a gentle kiss on the top of my head, resting his cheek against me. “I love you, my Merry,” he whispered.
“And I love you, my Killing Frost.” I turned my head, rising so we could kiss. I’d purposefully waited to put on lipstick, because we all tended to kiss a lot, and we didn’t want to face the cameras with lipstick smeared across our faces like clown makeup.
“Seeing the two of you together makes me hope that I’ll find another love of my own life someday,” Maeve said.
Frost and I broke the kiss to look at Maeve. She had lost her human husband, the director who had discovered her back in the fifties, to cancer.
“I am sorry we could not save him, Maeve,” I said.
“Even the magic of faerie can’t heal a human that near death,” she said.
I started to go to her to hug her, but Doyle surprised us by moving toward her. He held out his hand. “I know what it is to lose someone you love, and all the magic in the world does not ease the loss.”
Maeve hesitated, then put her hand in his dark one. “All those years of seeing you stand beside the Queen of Air and Darkness, you were her Darkness, a bringer of blood and death; you gave no clue that you were actually a romantic.”
“And achingly lonely,” he said, “but neither was helpful as the right hand of the queen.”
“But you helped Merry give me a chance to have a child with my husband, and now I have Liam.”
“The magic that helped you grow fertile was Galen and Merry’s doing, none of mine.”
“You kept her alive long enough to do the spell, and that Galen could not have done,” Maeve said.
Doyle acknowledged it with a nod, and then Maeve moved slowly into him and put her arms around him. He was stiff and a little unsure, but he patted her as she hugged him almost as awkwardly.
There was a flash from the window behind us. Doyle moved so fast it was hard to follow, as if the gun had just appeared in his hand and was pointed at the window, as he moved toward it. Frost had shoved me behind him. He had a gun in one hand and a blade in the other.
Maeve yelled, “It’s a camera, Doyle; don’t shoot them.”
“Unless they can fly, it cannot be reporters,” he said. There was another flash of light. I couldn’t see past Frost’s body and knew better than to even peer around him. He was guarding me; I had to let him do his job, but I wanted to see, badly.
Doyle cursed. “Anu’s Breasts, they’re on window-washing equipment, two of them.”
“Well, someone has to work the controls while the other one takes pictures, or film,” Maeve said as if it were just an everyday occurrence. Maybe it was for the Golden Goddess of Hollywood, but we’d never had reporters climbing down the windows of a hospital before.
Doyle shut the curtains, cutting out the sunlight with them so the room was suddenly dim.
“Thus it begins,” Maeve said.
“I hate paparazzi,” Frost said.
We all agreed with him and then called hospital security to let them know they’d been breached.
CHAPTER TEN
DOYLE HAD NEGOTIATED three days for me to recover my strength from giving birth, and then Aunt Andais, the Queen of Air and Darkness, got to speak to me directly. She wasn’t going to use the telephone, because she wanted to see me while we spoke. We weren’t going to use the computer for a Skype face-to-face either. Aunt Andais didn’t even own a cell phone, and computers were for her staff, but for her it was the old-fashioned way: a mirror. The sidhe could speak through reflective surfaces of more than one kind, but mirrors were the easiest and clearest view. We chose the antique mirror in the dining room. One, because it was large and had been as big as one wall of the room once, before wild magic had expanded the room to the size of a small football field. The French doors showed a forest that had never existed in California. The clearing and forest were new lands of faerie, or old lands returned. We’d been so happy when it had happened, and then Taranis had walked into that bit of fairyland, knocked me unconscious, and stolen me away. Now there were locks on the French doors, and two guards posted at all times. If Taranis kidnapped me again, it wouldn’t be through this opening.
The mirror was still large enough to act like a huge flat-screen TV, so that the queen would get a good view first of me, and then, if that went well, the babies, but since some of us could use mirrors to travel from one point to another we weren’t risking the babies until Aunt Andais had shown herself sane, or at least sane-ish. I’d take the “ish” because asking for more than that would mean I’d never speak with her.
I debated on what color maternity dress to wear. It wasn’t a casual concern. Andais was very into fashion, but more than that, she had taken insult from my choice of clothing in the past. Her feeling insulted had led to my being hurt, or even bleeding, so we put serious thought into what I would wear to sit before the queen. Shades of rich, dark green were some of my best colors. They brought out the green in my eyes, but Aunt Andais didn’t always like to be reminded that my eyes were the color of the Seelie Court, and not the Unseelie. So, no green, which took out several of my maternity dresses. The red one was almost the color of fresh blood, not something we wanted my torture-loving aunt to think of when looking at me. The purple dress was at the dry cleaner. That left us with a soft floral print, royal blue, or a rich, salmon pink. Pants were a no-go; I was still too sore to want to wear them. We finally decided on the pink, saving the blue in case we had to do television earlier than we’d planned.