"Oh, nice," I said.
Amatheon sighed. "You know how I feel, Princess Meredith. How I've always felt about you and your being in line to the throne. If I suddenly said you were wonderful and a perfect future queen, would you believe me?"
I just shook my head.
"The queen has... persuaded me that my beliefs are not so precious as my flesh and my blood." His face seemed to crumble for a moment, almost as if he would cry. He regained himself, but the eyes that turned to me were raw with emotion. What had Andais done to him?
"You should have just agreed, like I did." The other guard I could have done without seeing was Onilwyn. He was handsome, but there was a roughness to his face, an almost unfinished quality, so that although he was handsome by human standards, by sidhe standards he was coarse. He was broad of shoulder, and muscular; even just a glimpse of his clothed body framed by the long fur coat, and you had a sense of the power of him. He was so thick through the shoulders and chest that he seemed shorter than the others, but it was illusion. Onilwyn's thick wavy hair was tied back in a ponytail. The hair was a green so dark it held black highlights when the light touched it just so. His eyes were the color of green grass with a starburst of liquid gold dancing around the pupils. His skin was a pale green, but it wasn't a white-green like Galen's, where you were not sure whether it was white or green. No, Onilwyn's skin was a pale solid green in the same way Carrow's skin was brown.
"You would agree to anything that saved your hide," Amatheon said.
"Of course I would," Onilwyn said, as he glided toward us. I'd never understood how such a bulky man managed to glide, but he always did. "So would anyone with any sense."
Amatheon turned to look at the other man. "Why are you Cel's man? Do you believe he should be king? Do you care?"
Onilwyn shrugged thick shoulders. "I prefer Cel king because he likes me, and I like him. He's promised me many things once he's on the throne."
"He promises many things," Amatheon said, "but that is not why I have been his follower."
"Then why?" Doyle asked.
He answered without looking away from Onilwyn. "Cel is the last true sidhe prince we have. The last true heir to the bloodline that has ruled us for nearly three thousand years. The day that someone who is part human, and part brownie, and part Seelie takes our crown is the day we die as a people. We will be no better than the mongrels in Europe."
Onilwyn smiled, and it was so full of spite that it hurt to see it. "But here you are, lover of the pure Unseelie blood, here you are." He stood in front of the taller man, gazing at him with that cruel, satisfied smile. "Forced to bed one of the mongrel horde. Knowing that if you get her with child you, personally, will be responsible for placing her on the throne. Such delicious, thick, spreadable irony."
"You're enjoying this," Amatheon said in a strangled voice.
Onilwyn nodded. "If the ring is alive to our touch, we are free of our celibacy."
"But only with her," Amatheon said.
The other man shook his head. "What does it matter? She's a woman, and she's sidhe. This is a gift, not a curse."
"She is not sidhe."
"Grow up, Amatheon, grow up, before this naivete gets you killed." He looked at me for the first time. "May I touch the ring, Princess?"
"What happens if I say no?"
Onilwyn smiled, and it was only a little less pleasant than the smile he'd given Amatheon. "The queen knew you wouldn't like it, or rather like me. Let me see if I can remember the message."
"I remember it," Amatheon said in a dull voice. "She made me repeat it over and over while she - " He stopped abruptly, as if he'd almost said too much.
"Then by all means, give the princess the queen's message," Onilwyn said.
Amatheon closed his eyes as if he were reading something inside his head. "I have chosen these two with care. If the ring does not react to them then so be it, but if it does react, then I want no arguments from you. Fuck them." He opened his eyes, and he looked pale, as if the recitation had cost him something. "I do not wish to touch the ring, but I will not go against the queen's orders."
"Not again, you mean," Onilwyn said, and he looked at me. "May I touch the ring?"
I glanced at Doyle. He gave a small nod. "I think you must, Meredith."
Frost started forward.
"Frost," Doyle said, and that one word held a warning.
Frost looked at him, and he looked horrified. "Are we helpless to protect her from this?"
"Yes," Doyle said, "we are helpless to go against the queen's orders."
I touched Frost's arm. "It's okay."
He shook his head. "No, it is not."
"I don't blame you, Frost," Onilwyn said. "I wouldn't want to share, either." He looked around the room at the other men. "Of course, you are sharing, aren't you?" He pouted out his lower lip, but his eyes stayed malicious. "Such a small piece to share among all of you, and now here we come to take even more of it away."
"Oh, for Goddess's sake, Onilwyn, stop being such an ass." The last guard in the room had been so quiet in his corner that I hadn't seen him, but that was Usna's way. He could be unseen in a crowd, and only when he spoke would your mind register that he had been there all along. Your eyes would see him, but your mind just kept forgetting to tell you about it. It was a type of glamour, and it was a type that worked on other sidhe, or at least it always worked on me.
Neither Doyle, Frost, nor Rhys seemed surprised, but Galen said, "I wish you wouldn't do that. It's always so damn unnerving."