A Caress Of Twilight

Chapter 31

That night was Frost's night, and he seemed determined to make me forget everyone else. I was licking down his stomach when Andais's voice came like an evil dream out of the empty mirror. "I will not be blocked from the sight I wish to see, not by my own Darkness. You have one minute, then I will clear my own way."

We froze, then rolled to our feet, got tangled in the sheets, and nearly fell. Frost said, "My Queen, Doyle is not here. We will fetch him for you, if you but wait."

She made a low sound, almost a growl. "My patience is low tonight, my Killing Frost. I will give you two minutes to find him and free this mirror, or I will do it for you."

"We will make haste, my Queen."

I was already in the doorway. "Doyle, the queen on the mirror, now. She wants to see you." My voice must have carried the urgency I was feeling, because Doyle rolled off the couch, shirtless, wearing just his jeans. He was inside the bedroom, one hand outstretched, as Frost pleaded for just one more minute.

I climbed on the bed as the fastest way to make room for both of the men to stand in front of the mirror. Doyle touched the side of the mirror, and the glass flashed once with light, then cleared. Then there was something in the mirror. I couldn't see much of it around the two broad backs of the men, and what I could see made me half-glad my view was obstructed.

There was torchlight flickering, dark stone walls, and soft, hopeless moaning, as if whoever was making the sound had gone beyond the need to scream, beyond words, beyond anything but that utterly hopeless moaning. When I was little I'd always thought that the wailing of ghosts must be like the sounds in the Hallway of Mortality. Strangely, ghosts don't make noises like that. Or at least none that I've ever met.

"How dare you lock me out, Doyle, how dare you!"

"I asked Doyle to block the viewing on the mirror," I said, speaking to the backs of both of the men.

"I hear our little princess, but I do not see her. If we are going to fight, then I wish to see her face-to-face." Her voice held anger like a cup filled to the brim with something hot and scalding.

The men parted so that I was suddenly visible, kneeling on the bed, in the tangle of sheets and pillows. Andais was suddenly visible, as well. She was standing in the middle of the Hallway of Mortality, where I'd known she was. The viewing mirror in the torture area was set so that you couldn't see any of the devices, but Andais had made sure that she was horrible enough.

She was covered in blood as if someone had thrown a bucket of it over her. Her face was speckled with little drying bits, and one side of her hair was caked with blood and thicker things. It took a minute of staring to realize that she was gore soaked and wore nothing else. She was actually so covered in blood and bits that I hadn't realized she was nude at first.

I took air in through my nose, out through my mouth for a few breaths while Doyle filled the silence.

"We have had many callers, my Queen. The princess grew tired of being caught unprepared for visitors."

"Who else has been calling you, niece?"

I swallowed hard, let out the breath I'd been half holding, and my voice came out just fine, not a tremble. Good for me. "Taranis's secretaries mostly."

"What does he want?" She nearly spit the word he.

"I was invited to the Yule ball, but declined." I added the last hastily. I did not want her to think I'd snub her court.

"How terribly high-handed, and how terribly typical of Taranis."

"If one may be so bold, my Queen," Doyle said softly, "you are in an exceptional mood, despite the fact that you have obviously been indulging yourself heartily. What has so displeased you?"

Doyle was right. I'd seen Andais come back from a torture session humming, covered in gore and humming. She should have been having a very good time by her standards, but she wasn't.

"I have taken those who I deemed capable of either releasing the Nameless or calling the old ones. I have questioned them all most thoroughly. If any of them had done these things, they would have talked by now." She sounded tired, the anger beginning to leak away.

"I am sure, my Queen, that you have been most thorough," Doyle said.

She looked at him, and it was a hard look. "Are you making fun of me?"

Doyle bowed as far as the mirror would allow. "Never, my Queen."

She rubbed her hand across her forehead, smearing blood across her white skin. "No sidhe in our court did this, my Darkness."

"Then who, if not our people?" Doyle asked. He did not rise from his bow.

"We are not the only sidhe, Doyle."

"You mean Taranis's court," Frost said.

Her eyes flicked to him, and they narrowed in a very unfriendly manner. "Yes, that's what I mean."

Frost bowed, mirroring Doyle. "I meant no disrespect, Your Majesty."

Doyle said, from his awkward position, "Have you informed the king of his peril?"

"He refuses to believe that anyone in his beautiful shining court could do such a thing. He says that none of his people would know how to raise the old dead gods, and that none would touch the Nameless, for it has nothing to do with them. The Nameless is an Unseelie problem, and the old gods are ghosts, and that is an Unseelie problem, as well."

"What exactly would be a Seelie problem?" I asked. I almost hated to have her attention back on me, but I wanted to know. If none of this was Seelie business, then what exactly was their business?

"That, niece, is an excellent question. Of late, Taranis seems unwilling to dirty his hands with anything of importance. I don't know what's wrong with him, but he seems to be living more and more in his own little dream haven, built of pretty illusions and his own magic." She crossed her stained arms, looking thoughtful. "It has to be one of his court. It has to be."

"What can we do to get him to see that?" I asked.

"I don't know. I wish I did." She waved her hands. "Oh, for pity's sake, get up, both of you. Go sit on the bed. Look comfortable."

Frost and Doyle stood and came to sit, one on either side of me. Frost was still nude, but his lovely body was no longer at the excited pitch it had been before the queen called. He sat with his hands in his lap, half hiding himself. Doyle sat on the other side of me, very still, like a prey animal trying not to draw the eye of the predator. I didn't often think of Doyle as a prey animal — he was so assuredly a predator — but tonight, the only predator was staring at us from the mirror.

"Move your hands, Frost. Let me see all of you."

Frost hesitated, the briefest of seconds, and then let his hands drop away to either side of his lap. He sat there nude, eyes downcast, no longer comfortable in his nudity.

"You are truly beautiful, Frost. I had forgotten that." She frowned. "I seem to be forgetting a lot of things lately." She sounded almost sad; then her voice became brisk again, hers again. Just the tone made all three of us stiffen, almost shiver, and it was a shiver of anticipation, but not of pleasure.

"I have not enjoyed myself this day. These were people whom I respected, or liked, or valued, and now they will never again be my allies. They will fear me, but they feared me before, and fear is not truly the same as respect. I'm learning that, at last. Give me something pleasant to remember this night by. Let me watch the three of you together. Let me see the lights from your skin brighten the night like fireworks."

The three of us sat there for a second, then Doyle said, "I have had my night with the princess. Frost has made it clear that he does not wish to share her tonight."

"He will share if I say that he will share," Andais said. It was hard to argue with her, blood soaked and nude, looking like some terrible primal things but we tried.

"I would ask that Your Majesty not do this," Frost said. He wasn't looking arrogant. He was looking almost frightened.

"You would ask? You would ask? What is it you are asking of me?"

"Nothing," he said, head hanging so that the shine of his hair hid his face. "Absolutely nothing." He sounded bitter and sorrowful when he said it.

"Aunt Andais," I said, keeping my voice level, soft, like I was trying to talk a crazy person out of setting off the bomb strapped to her body. "Please, we have done nothing to displease you. We have done everything we can to please you. Why would you punish us for that?"

"Were you going to have sex tonight?"

"Yes, but…"

"You are going to fuck Frost tonight, are you not?"

"Yes."

"You fucked Doyle last night, correct?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"Then what difference does it make if you fuck them both right now, tonight?" Her voice was rising again, losing its calm edge.

My voice went lower, more even as hers began to unravel. " I have not been with both of them at once before, Your Majesty, and a menage a trois must be done carefully or you spoil the game. I think that Doyle and Frost are both too dominant to share me comfortably."

She nodded. "Very well."

I think we all relaxed, let a breath out.

"Then replace one of them with one of the others. Give me a show, niece of mine, give me something to enjoy this night."

I'd done my best reasoning, she'd even agreed with it, and it hadn't helped us. I looked from one man to the other. "At this point, I'm open to suggestions." I hoped Andais thought I meant suggestions on who to invite in or who to replace. But I hoped that the men understood that I was still wanting a way out of all this.

"Nicca is less dominant," Frost said slowly.

Had he understood what I meant?

"Or Kitto," Doyle said.

"Kitto had his turn today, and Nicca isn't due for two more nights. I think everyone would agree on Nicca being moved ahead before they would agree to Kitto being allowed two turns back-to-back."

"Agree?" the queen said. "Why do the men have to agree to anything? Don't you just pick among them, Meredith?"

"Not really. We've got a schedule and we usually stick to it."

"A schedule, a schedule?" She began to smile, then to grin. "And how did you arrive at this schedule?"

"It was alphabetical," I said, trying not to sound as puzzled as I felt.

"She has an alphabetical schedule, alphabetical." She began to laugh, a low trickle of sound at first, then it grew into a huge genuine belly laugh. She half doubled over, clutching at her sides, laughing until tears trailed out of her eyes to trickle through the blood.

Belly laughs are usually infectious; strangely, this one was not. Or rather, it wasn't to us. I could hear others behind her joining in. Ezekiel and his assistants probably thought it was a hoot. Torturers have such an odd sense of humor.

The laughter slowed, and finally Andais stood up again, wiping at her eyes. I think we were all holding our breaths, wondering what she'd say. She managed to gasp, laughter still thick in her voice, "You have given me the first true pleasure of the day, and for that I will give you all a reprieve. Though I fail to see what is so wrong with doing in front of me what you will do when I leave you. I do not see the difference."

Wisely, we kept our opinions to ourselves. I think we all knew that if she didn't already understand the difference, there was no way to explain it to her.

The queen went away, leaving the three of us to stare into the mirror. I looked shell-shocked, stunned by our near miss. Doyle's face showed almost nothing. Frost got to his feet and screamed, a sound of such rage that it reverberated through the room and brought the others to the door with guns drawn.

Rhys looked around the room, puzzled. "What's happened?"

Frost wheeled toward him, naked, unarmed, but there was something fearsome in him. "We are not animals to be paraded for her amusement!"

Doyle stood up, motioning the others back. Rhys looked at me, and I nodded. They left, closing the door softly behind them.

Doyle spoke softly to Frost. Some of it was simple soothing talk, but some was more insistent. "We are safe now, Frost," I heard Doyle tell him. "She cannot hurt us here."

Frost raised his head and grabbed Doyle by the shoulders. The pressure of his pale hands mottled Doyle's dark skin. "Don't you understand yet, Doyle? If we are not the one who fathers Merry's child, then we are back to being Andais's playthings, her neglected playthings. I don't think I could bear it again, Doyle." He shook him, just a little. "I can't go back to that, Doyle, I can't!" He shook the other man, back and forth, back and forth.

I kept expecting Doyle to break his grip, to force him away, but he didn't. He'd raised his forearms to grip Frost's arms. Other than that he'd remained immobile.

I caught the shine of tears through the silver of Frost's hair. He slowly fell to his knees, his hands sliding down Doyle's arms, but never losing contact. He pressed the top of his head against the other man, his hands holding on. "I can't do it, Doyle. I cannot do it. I'd rather die. I'll let myself fade first."

With that last choked word he began to cry in earnest, great racking sobs that seemed to come from deep, deep inside him. Frost cried as if it would break him in two.

Doyle let him cry, and when he had quieted, Doyle helped me get Frost into bed. We laid him between us, Doyle spooning from the back, and me entwined from the front. There was nothing sexual about it. We held him while he cried himself to sleep. Doyle and I gazed at each other over Frost's curled body. The look in Doyle's eyes, his face, was more frightening than the sight of Andais covered in gore.

I watched a fearful purpose be born that night. Maybe it had been born a long time ago, and I just hadn't noticed. Doyle wouldn't go back, either. I saw it in his eyes. We held Frost; and finally we both slept, as well.

Sometime during the night Doyle got up and left us. I woke up when he moved, but Frost did not. Doyle kissed me gently on the forehead, then laid his hand against the soft glimmer of Frost's hair.

He spoke softly, his deep voice like a purr, more than a whisper. "I promise."

I raised up enough to ask, "Promise what?"

He just smiled, shook his head, and left, closing the door softly behind him.

I snuggled down beside Frost, but sleep eluded me. My thoughts weren't friendly enough for sleep. Dawn's light had greyed the window before I drifted into a fitful rest.

I dreamed that I stood beside Andais in the Hallway of Mortality. All the men were chained to the torture devices, untouched, unharmed, the only shining clean things in all that dark place. Andais kept trying to get me to join her in torturing them. I refused, and I wouldn't let her touch them. She threatened me and them, and I kept refusing her, and my refusal somehow made it so she couldn't touch them. I refused until Frost's small whimpering woke me. He was twitching in his sleep, struggling. I woke him as gently as I could, stroking down his arm. He woke with a scream half-choked in his throat, eyes wild.

The scream had brought the other men to the door. I waved them away as I hugged Frost to me. "It's all right, Frost, it's all right. It was just a dream."

He choked on that and spoke fiercely, his face buried against my body, his arms hugging me so tight it hurt. "Not a dream, real. I remember it. I will always remember it."

Doyle was the last one in the doorway, closing it slowly. I met his dark eyes, and I knew what he'd promised.

"I'll keep you safe, Frost," I said.

"You can't," he said.

"I promise I'll keep you safe, all of you."

He raised his hand, covered my mouth with his fingers. "Don't promise, Merry, don't promise that. Don't be forsworn for something you have no hope of doing. No one else heard. I forgive it. You never said it."

Doyle's face was just a dark shape in the nearly closed door. "But I did say it, Frost, and I meant" it. I will make the Summerlands into a wasteland before I let her have you back," I said. The moment the words left my mouth, there was a slight sound, though not a sound, it was almost as if the very air held its breath. It was as if in that moment reality itself froze, and then remade itself, just a little bit different than it had been.

Frost crawled out of bed and wouldn't look at me. "You're going to get yourself killed, Merry." He walked into the bathroom without looking back. I heard the shower a few moments later.

Doyle opened the door enough to salute me with his gun, as if it had been a sword, touching the side of the weapon to his forehead, then bringing it out and down. I nodded my acknowledgment of the gesture. Then he blew me a kiss with his other hand and closed the door.

I didn't understand completely what had just happened. I knew what it meant, though. I was now sworn to protect the men from Andais. But I had felt the world shift, as if fate itself had shivered. Something had changed in the well-orchestrated run of the universe. It had changed because I vowed to protect the men. That one statement had changed things. I had made the fates blink, but I wouldn't know if I'd bettered myself or worsened until it was far, far too late.