"The moral of the originalGidgetmovie was that a real woman makes the men around her want to be better people. Which I hated, because then if the men around you are bastards, it implies that if you were woman enough, they'd straighten up. Which is bullshit."
I looked at the two men nearest me. Galen waved from the other truck they were getting inside. I blew him a kiss, and wished I could have done more.
"A good leader inspires her troops to do their best, Specialist Gregorio."
"Sure," she said.
Doyle spoke as he slipped into the Humvee. "Women are always the head of the household, if the house runs well," he said, and he slipped inside the great metal beast.
Specialist Gregorio looked at me, frowning. "Is he for real?"
I nodded. "Oh, yes, he's for real." I smiled at her. "Remember, we're Goddess worshippers. It makes us see things a little differently."
She looked thoughtful, and I left her with that thought. I climbed into the Humvee, and felt Rhys at my back.
Chapter Thirty-One
The humvee wasn't made for comfort. It was made for war, which meant it was armored and safe, but cramped and full of odd protrusions, straps, and just bits and pieces that would never have been in a civilian version.
Our driver had hair so short from behind that you thought "male," but when she'd turned and looked a question at Specialist Gregorio, there'd been no mistaking Corporal Lance for anything but female. She made me look not as well-endowed. Maybe that was why she did the very masculine haircut, to try to look more like one of the guys. I didn't say it, but I thought that nature had made being one of the guys impossible for her.
Specialist Gregorio got in the seat beside her. The wizard's eyes followed Galen as he got in the Humvee in front of us. We'd all decided that it would be better if they spent less time together, since his effect on her had been stronger than intended. We'd have also put the other wizard, Dawson, farther away from me for similar reasons, but we weren't given a choice. Dawson got in with the male driver in the Humvee that would hold Galen, Mistral, and Sholto. I'd thought the king of the sluagh might protest being separated from his queen, but he didn't. He simply kissed me gently, and did what he was told. He agreed that Rhys needed to fill me and Doyle in on what had been happening while we slept in faerie. Galen could do the same thing for Mistral and Sholto while we drove. It was a very logical arrangement, which was one of the reasons I expected someone to argue. The fey of any flavor are not always the most logical of people, but no one debated. We just all went to our vehicles and climbed in.
My clothes were made more for a ball than for climbing into military vehicles. I had to do some pulling, and Rhys did some picking up and pushing from behind. Doyle took my hand and helped me take my seat beside him. We settled my clothes and had to push all the cloth around to give Rhys room to fit into his seat.
Even though Doyle's coat was in a style from circa the 1800s, it still took up a lot less room than my clothes. I guess women's clothing is always the least practical, no matter what century you're in.
The engine roared to life, and I realized that we wouldn't need to do a damn thing to keep the two humans from hearing us talk. All we had to do was not yell.
Rhys took my hand in his, raising it so he could lay a kiss across my knuckles. He was so solemn it made me nervous. Then he grinned at me, and something tight in the center of my chest eased a little.
"What has happened in the rest of faerie while we had days inside the sluagh?" Doyle asked.
Rhys kept my hand in his, running his thumb over my knuckles repeatedly. He could grin all he wanted, but touching like that was a nervous gesture.
"Do you remember the task you gave Galen and me in the hospital?" he began.
I nodded. "I gave you Gran's body to take home."
"Yes, and you conjured sidhe horses for us to ride on that journey."
"Sholto and I called them into being, not just me," I said.
Rhys nodded, his eyes flicking past me to Doyle. "We heard rumors that you'd been crowned queen of the sluagh."
"It is true," Doyle said, "and married by faerie itself."
Rhys's face fell; such sorrow came over him that he suddenly looked old. Not old the way a human will, for he would always be boyishly handsome, but as if every day he had lived, every hard ounce of experience was suddenly etched into his face, spilling into his one blue eye.
He nodded again, biting his lower lip, and took his hand back from mine. "Then it is true."
I took his hand back into both of mine, cradling his in my lap. "I have already had this talk with Sholto. I am not monogamous, Rhys. All the fathers of my children are dear to me, and that is not going to change, no matter how many crowns I wear."
Rhys looked not at me but at Doyle. The big man nodded. "I was there for her talk with the king of the sluagh. He did make noises about her being his queen alone, but our Merry was very... firm with him." There was the faintest hint of humor to that last.
I glanced at Doyle, but his dark face was impassive, and gave nothing away.
"But once faerie has chosen a spouse, then... " Rhys began.
"I think we are going back to very old rules," Doyle said, "not the human ones we adopted some centuries ago."
"The Seelie adopted human rules, but the Unseelie, it wasn't about human rules," Rhys said.
"No," Doyle said, "it was about our queen seeking an heir for her throne whom she did not think would destroy her kingdom. At some level I think she has always known that her son was flawed. I think that is one of the reasons she sought a second babe for herself so desperately."
Rhys held my hands back, squeezing. "There are those in our kingdom right now who want Merry on the throne."
"How did Prince Cel take that bit of news?" I asked.
"Calmly," Rhys said.
Doyle and I both stared at him. "He was mad as a hatter when we last saw him," Doyle said.
"He was ranting about killing me, or forcing me to have a child with him so we could rule together," I said.
"He was as calm as I've seen him in years," Rhys said.
"That is bad," Doyle said.
"Why is that bad?" I asked, trying to read his face in the dimness of the Humvee.
Rhys answered, "Cel may be crazy, Merry, but he's powerful, and he still has a lot of allies among the Unseelie. His serene demeanor pleased the queen, which is probably what he wanted. He doesn't want to be blamed if something happens to you."
"Onilwyn would not have tried to kill me or Mistral without orders from Cel," I said.