Once that look would have made me squirm, or be afraid, but not now. Now I didn't want secrets from Doyle. He could have them all, even the ones I kept from myself.
"I will do my best never to disappoint you, Merry."
It was the best I was going to get from him. He would never promise not to lay his life down to protect me, because that was exactly what he would do, if it came to it. I'd made the choice for him, in a way. I'd decided to give up all of faerie, any throne offered, to keep us all safe. I wanted the fathers of my children alive by the time they were born.
He touched my face. "You look sad. I do not want to make you sad."
I leaned my cheek against his hand, feeling the warmth and reality of him. "It makes me nervous that all our enemies seem so determined to kill you first, my Darkness."
"He's hard to kill," Mistral said.
"I am," he said.
I patted his hand and stepped away, looking at all three of them. "You betterallbe hard to kill, because leaving faerie won't stop all of it. It will give us some breathing room, and charging Taranis with rape will make the media our friends, and cut down on the attacks, unless they want pictures of it on the news."
"Are you saying the paparazzi will be our safety?" Doyle sounded incredulous.
"The Seelie pride themselves on being the good guys. They won't want pictures of them being bad."
Doyle looked thoughtful. "An evil turned to a good."
"What are paparazzi?" Mistral asked.
All of us, including Sholto, looked at Mistral. Then I swear that an almost evil grin crossed Doyle and Sholto's faces. "If we have to make another bargain with the devil for posed pictures, Mistral, you can be with Merry," Sholto said.
"What are you talking about?" Mistral asked.
Sholto said, "I saw those pictures, Darkness. You, Rhys, and Meredith, nude by the pool doing the nasty."
"We were not having sex," I said.
"Some of the tabloids in Europe used pictures that left that to doubt," Sholto said.
"When were you in Europe?" I asked.
"I have a clip service that cuts out anything worldwide about the fey."
"That's an excellent idea," Doyle said. "I would suggest it to the queen, except... " He turned to me. "I no longer serve that queen."
I had a moment to wonder if I should apologize for that. Then the look on his face made an apology unnecessary. He loved me. It was there in his face, his eyes. Doyle loved me, and you should never apologize for that.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
My breath fogged in the winter night as we walked across the frosted grass. Mirabella had found me a cloak made of cream-colored fur. It was a hooded cloak out of some fairy tale, all white and gold and cream, over the black leather of the coat. Sholto had had enough winter cloaks and coats to fit the men. My hands were on the arms of King Sholto and Captain Doyle, which would be the titles they would use with the soldiers. Mistral came behind us, with his spear wrapped in soft cloth to hide it from prying eyes. There would be spies watching. It was faerie; there was always someone watching. Not necessarily spies for either court, but the fey are a curious lot. Anything unusual will bring them out to hide, and cling to the leaves and trees, and watch.
The sight that met our eyes was unusual enough to bring out an audience. If the fey had been human, we'd have had a crowd of gawkers that the soldiers would have had to hold back, but our people could watch and never be seen. We weren't called the Hidden Folk for nothing.
Major Walters was there at the front of the group of men, but at his side was a man who had his own air of authority. And to either side of them were more police and more soldiers. But mostly soldiers.
Sholto leaned over and whispered, "More soldiers than we've ever seen since we came to America."
Doyle must have heard, because he whispered, "I think the Major was preparing for trouble."
"A good leader always does," I said.
"We do," he said. I felt a push of magic from him.
Mistral spoke low from behind us. "There are too many curiosity seekers to discern any ill intent."
Doyle nodded.
Sholto said, "I'm not sure what you mean."
"Cannot you sense our hidden audience?" Doyle asked.
"Obviously not," he said.
"Neither can I, though I knew they would be there," I said softly.
A voice called out, "Just give yourselves a few more hundred years of practice." Rhys walked out of the mass of soldiers and police. He was grinning at me. Someone had loaned him a uniform, so he was all in camouflage. His white waist-length curls looked out of place against the military look. Someone had even loaned him an eye patch, in basic black.
I let go of the men on either side of me and held my arms out to him. He wrapped me in a hug, and laid a kiss on my forehead. Then he moved our faces back, just enough so he could study me.
"You look good," he said.
I gave him a look. "Was I supposed to look bad?"
He grinned again. "No, but... " He shook his head. "Later."
"Where is Galen?" Doyle asked.
"He is talking to their wizard. I made her nervous."
I frowned up at him, still with my arms around his solid, muscled realness. I wanted all my men out of faerie and safe in Los Angeles tonight. "What did you do to make her nervous?"
"Answered too many questions truthfully. Some humans — even wizards, or in this case witch, though the military term is wizard — some humans are freaked at the idea that I lost my eye hundreds of years before they were born."
"Oh," I said, and hugged him again.
Major Walters came forward with the man in camouflage who seemed to be in charge. There was almost no rank to see on his uniform to my uninformed eyes, but the way the other soliders treated him made any gaudy ribbons unnecessary. He was simply in charge.
"Princess Meredith, this is Captain Page. Captain, may I introduce Princess Meredith NicEssus, daughter of Prince Essus, heir to the throne of the Unseelie Court, and from what I hear, maybe the Seelie Court, as well."
Walters gave me a look. "You've been a busy princess," he said.
I wasn't sure if he really knew about the Seelie offer, or if he was pretending to know to fish for information. Police can be tricky, sometimes because it's their job, and sometimes because it's become habit.
The Captain held out his hand, and I took it. He had a good handshake, especially for a man with a hand as big as his shaking a hand as small as mine. Some big men never get the hang of it. I was close enough now to see his name on his uniform, and to notice the two district bars on the front and neck of it.
"The Illinois National Guard is honored to escort you to safety, Princess Meredith.