Galen took my hand in his; he looked grim. Doyle, Mistral, and Rhys had all moved up around my chair, but they were still behind the wall of guards. In a real battle we might lead from the front, but in moments like this princes and kings did not stand in front of their bodyguards. I had spent months learning this lesson as I watched the men I loved risk themselves again and again to keep me and the unborn children safe. Now, they were having to learn the lesson. I looked at my three warriors standing so certain, so ready, and hidden from the threat. I knew that it would chafe on them more than it had on me, because a year ago they would have stood between the danger and Queen Andais; now they stood beside me.
A voice even lower than Doyle’s came from that tall wall of guards. “We are goblin; you cannot call us back to your side, Queen Andais, for that has never been our place.” It was Jonty, the leader of the Red Caps. He was smallish for his people, only a little over eight feet tall; some of the men in the line were closer to thirteen feet, like small giants, or average-sized ogres. Their skin color ranged through every shade of gray, yellow, and two golds that were almost brown. The sidhe warriors, so tall and commanding, looked small interspersed between them.
“You are Kurag the Goblin King’s problem, not mine, but the men and women you stand beside—they are mine.” Her voice went down another note to a purring, sexual depth, but it didn’t excite any of us who were sidhe, because we knew that it promised violence, not sex, at least for us. I’d begun to realize that violence was a kind of sex for my aunt. She was truly like one of those sexual predators who are wired so that images of violence hit the same centers of the brain that “normal” sex does for the rest of us.
I projected my voice to be heard. It would have been more impressive if I hadn’t been hiding behind my guards, but it would have to do, because Andais wasn’t the most stable person, and I wouldn’t risk myself betting that, one, she couldn’t do magic through the mirror, and two, she would remember that she valued my fertile womb, if nothing else.
“They are not yours, Aunt Andais, not anymore.”
“Do not let your fertility go to your head, Meredith. It may keep you and your lovers safe, but the rest are on loan, nothing more. Until you sit on my throne, the Unseelie sidhe are mine.”
“They are oathed to me now, Aunt Andais.”
“They cannot be oathed twice, niece. That would make them foresworn.”
“The Cranes, my father’s female guards, were never asked to make oath to Prince Cel; you just ordered them to guard him, so they were free to make oath where they will.”
“They were oathed to my son,” she said.
“No, they were not,” I said. I would have liked to see her face, but I trusted the guards to do their job and stared at their broad backs, Galen’s hand still in mine.
“Cel gave them a choice and they swore oath to him.”
“Who told you that?” This was from Cathbodua, who stood at the end of the line that shielded us.
“Cel and the captain of the Cranes, Siobhan.”
“They lied, then,” Cathbodua said.
“Why would they have lied about that?”
“His reasons were his own, always, Queen Andais, but I swear to you that no one standing here today ever took oath to Prince Cel.”
“I neglected much where my son was concerned, and I regret that.”
Cathbodua went to one knee. “I am honored to hear you say that, Queen Andais.”
One guard taking a knee was often a sign for all, but no one else knelt, and after a time Cathbodua got to her feet and joined her fellow guards again.
“I will grant that the female guards are free to be with you, Princess Meredith, but the men are mine.”
“They took oath to me, as well, Aunt Andais,” I said.
“Yes, remind me of our blood ties, Meredith, because you do grow tiresome so quickly.”
“As do these moments between us, for me, auntie.”
“Do not call me auntie.”
“As you wish,” I said. My voice was as neutral as I could make it.
“I will call all my Ravens home to roost, Meredith, and they will come.”
“No, we won’t.” This from Usna, who stood beside Cathbodua. His normal joking voice, as if nothing were really serious, was missing. It was a very grim cat that stepped from the line.
“How dare you tell me ‘no’ and ‘won’t.’ I will carve those words into your flesh.”
“We all made oath to Merry; we are no longer your Ravens. You cannot call us home, and we are no longer yours to torture at your will,” he said, and his voice sounded sad now. I realized that he did not believe that anything would keep him safe from Andais. Usna spoke bravely, but he didn’t believe in that safety.
“Then you are all foresworn.” She almost yelled it.
I spoke then, standing up as if that would help. Galen squeezed my hand tight as if afraid of what I would do. “They are oathed to me, which does make them foresworn.”
“Then they will be punished for breaking their oath,” she said.
“By exile from faerie? Isn’t that the usual punishment for being foresworn?” I said.
“No!” She yelled it.
“Yes,” I said, clearly, calmly.
“You can’t all have chosen exile from faerie,” she said, and her voice held shock.
“We are exiled from the Unseelie Court,” Usna said, “but we are not exiled from faerie, for wherever Princess Meredith goes, faerie follows.”