He leaned in and pressed his shining lips to hers. The physicality of the kiss was chaste, but his power thrust into her like a spear of silver light. I saw that long shaft of power nearly bisect her golden-yellow light. For an instant her light darkened at its core, a flash of orange and red, like true flame. Then he drew back, stepped back until she glowed alone. "You would not turn me from your body, not even now with the memory of Sage's flesh like a raw wound in your mind."
His power folded away, leaving him pale, and still beautiful, but not a shining thing.
Maeve's power faded a little at a time as she spoke. "I could have taken lesser fey to my bed over the last hundred years. Other exiles like me. But I did not do it, because I hoped that someday the court would see Taranis's treachery, and when he was dead, I would be welcome back. They would forgive my human lovers, for the Seelie always did love human flesh in the dark. But you do not sully yourself with the lesser fey. You do not do that, and ever regain prominence in the high court of faerie."
"There is more than one high court of faerie," Frost said.
She shook her head. "No, there isn't. Not for me."
He shook his head. "This attitude will grow tiresome before we finish our visit to the Seelie."
"Frost, you just don't remember what they're like. You have not begun to see tiresome."
He sighed. "I remember all too well, Maeve." He looked sad for a moment. "I do not wish to return there and watch them treat us as lesser beings."
"Then stay here, with me." She turned to me. "Don't go back, Merry. Taranis wants you to visit him for a reason. He does nothing without a reason, and it will not be a reason that you will like."
"I know," I said.
She balled her hands into fists. "Then why go?"
"Because she will be queen of the Unseelie Court, and she cannot begin her reign by showing fear to Taranis," Doyle said from the doorway.
"But you are afraid of Taranis," Maeve said. "We all are."
Doyle shrugged. He was wearing black jeans tucked into knee-high black boots, a black T-shirt, black leather jacket. Even his belt buckle was black. The only color showing was the silver earrings that graced the pointed curve of his ears. There was even a diamond stud in one earlobe. "Afraid or not, we must show a brave face."
"Is it worth dying for? Is it worth getting Merry killed?" She pointed at me, rather dramatically, but she was an actress. Besides, the sidhe could be a dramatic lot, even without training.
"If he kills Merry, Queen Andais will kill him."
"He released the Nameless to try to kill me so that I wouldn't reveal his secret. Do you really think he'd hesitate at full-out war between the courts?"
"I didn't say war, Maeve."
"You said the queen would kill Taranis; that means war."
Doyle shook his head. "For slaying the heir to her throne, I think Andais would do one of two things. Either challenge him to a personal duel, which Taranis will not want; or have him assassinated, discreetly."
"You mean you would kill Taranis," Maeve said.
"I am no longer the Queen's Darkness." He came to stand next to me. "I have heard that she has a new captain of her guard now."
"Who?" Frost asked.
"Mistral," Doyle said.
"The Bringer of Storms. But he has been long out of favor."
Doyle nodded. "Nonetheless, that is her new champion."
"He is no assassin, and he is never discreet. He comes like his namesake with much wind and noise." Frost was openly disdainful.
"But Whisper is quiet enough to make up for it," Doyle said.
Frost looked startled. Maeve was frowning. "I don't know these names."
"They have all but faded into their names," Doyle said. "What you once knew them by is no more."
"Whisper," Frost said. "I thought he'd gone mad."
"I'd heard that rumor, too."
I remembered Mistral. He was everything the queen abhorred, loud, bragging, quick to anger, unforgiving. He was almost the epitome of a bully, but he was too powerful to be refused entrance to the dark court once he'd gotten himself kicked out of the golden. Queen Andais made sure we accepted all who were powerful, but she didn't have to like them, or use them much. She could make sure they were always seated far away from her and given duties that kept them from her sight.
Mistral had been so out of favor during my lifetime that I barely remembered his face, and could not truly recall ever having spoken with him. My father had thought him a fool.
"I don't remember anyone among the guard called Whisper," I said.
"He displeased the queen once, long ago," Doyle said, "and she had him punished. He was given to Ezekiel in the Hallway of Mortality for" - he frowned, looked at Frost - "for seven years, wasn't it?"
Frost nodded. "I believe so."
I swallowed before I could speak. "He was given over to be tortured for seven years." My voice was breathy with the horror of it. I'd been in the Hallway of Mortality. I knew exactly how good at his craft Ezekiel was, and I could not imagine seven years of such attention.
They were both nodding.
Even Maeve looked pale. The Seelie Court did not condone torture, at least not the overt kind that Ezekiel dished out. They had more subtle ways of doing it, magical ways, that were less messy, less personal. You could cause someone excruciating pain without getting your hands dirty. Queen Andais liked calling a spade a spade. Torture was supposed to be messy, or what good was it?