Swallowing Darkness   ::   Гамильтон Лорел

Thin thorn branches formed a latticework above his head, but each thorn was tipped with silver. It was Jonty who whispered, "The Crown of Thorn and Silver."

Doyle reached up and touched the crown. He came away with a bright spot of crimson on his fingertip. "It is sharp."

"My king," I said.

He smiled. "One of them."

Then a sound, a horrible wet throaty sound, drove the answering smile from my face. "Frost," I said, and turned back to the stag. It lay on its side, the spear sticking up like a young tree stripped of its branches. Blood had drenched its white coat.

Doyle and I went to him. I knelt and touched the fur where it was clean of blood. He was warm to the touch, but there was no movement. "No," I said. "No."

"He was a willing sacrifice," Doyle said.

I shook my head. "I do not want this."

"He gave himself so you could rule the Unseelie."

I shook my head again. "I don't want to rule them without him at my side." I laid my head on the stag's still-warm side, and whispered, "Frost, come back to me. Please, please, don't go. Don't go."

I smelled roses, thick and warm as summer's kiss. I rose and there was a shower of rose petals falling from the winter sky.

It was Galen who wrapped his hands around the spear, and took it out of the stag's side to show the horrible wound. Galen stood above us, bathed in the rose petals, the spear in his hands, his face anguished, his clothes covered in blood.

Rhys knelt by the stag's head, hands gripping the smooth white horns. Tears trailed from his one good eye. Mistral came to stand with us, gripping his own more slender spear. I saw Sholto at the far edge of the field, his sluagh like a black cloud of nightmare shapes flying and creeping with him. He stopped to stare at us grouped around the white stag. He bowed his head, as if he knew.

Ash and Holly stood with the Red Caps. They had all lowered their weapons and pointed them at the ground as a sign of respect.

A voice came out of the sweet fall of petals. "What would you give for your Killing Frost?"

"Anything."

"Would you give the crown upon your head?" the voice asked.

"Yes," I said.

Mistral said "Meredith." But the other men said nothing. Mistral hadn't been with us from the beginning, so he didn't understand.

"And you, Darkness, would you give up your crown?"

Doyle took my hand in his, and said, "To have my right hand at my side again, I would."

"So be it," the voice said. There was a wind, and the scent of rain, and the dark light of the crowns was gone.

But a hand reached up through the hole in the stag's side. I touched that hand, and it wrapped around mine. "Goddess, help us," I said.

"She is," Doyle said, and he went to the hole in the stag's side. He tore at it with his hands. Rhys joined him. Mistral crawled to us, but he was too wounded to help. Galen gave the spear Shrieker to Mistral, and used his one unwounded arm to help tear at the hole. It was as if the stag's body had become a shell, something dry and unreal. It flaked and tore under their hands, and a second hand appeared along with the first, then arms. And then we were pulling him from the wreck of his other form.

That fall of silver hair fell over my lap, and then finally he turned and looked at me. Those gray eyes, that face that was almost too handsome for words, but there was no arrogance in my Frost now. There was only pain, and so much emotion trapped in those eyes.

He fell into our arms, mine and Doyle's. We held him while he shook. He clung to us while we cried. The Darkness and the Killing Frost clung to each other, and to me, and wept.



Chapter Forty-Eight

Andais is still queen of Air and Darkness, but the crown did not appear above her head. Taranis is still King of Light and Illusion, but our lawyers are trying to get someone to sign off on forcing him to submit a DNA sample to compare to the sperm they found in me. It got leaked to the press somehow that my uncle might be my rapist. The tabloids are finally picking on the Seelie Court, and the mainstream press is following their lead. It's too juicy a story to ignore, no matter how charming a king he may be.

Lord Hugh and some of the nobles of the Seelie Court are still trying to get me declared queen of their court, but I've sent word that I'm not interested.

Andais has offered to do what she vowed, and step down for me to take her throne even if the Crown of Moonlight and Shadows never reappears. I've refused.

Cel was insane, but he was right about one thing. Too many of the nobles of both courts see me as the mongrel who proved that even their highest nobles were losing their magic. I was mortal, and it's a sin they won't forgive. Cel is dead, and Andais's days are numbered. Too many of her nobles want her throne and see her as weak. We're staying in Los Angeles, far away from the infighting. We'll see who survives.

The only thing we did before we left faerie was to free the prisoners. Barinthus, my father's closest advisor and once the sea god Manannan Mac Lir, had been imprisoned by Andais simply because he was my most powerful ally.

He's in Los Angeles with us now, and watching the former sea god swim in a real sea after so long being landlocked is a wonderful thing.

I'm back at Gray Detective Agency, and so are my guards. We're all useless for undercover work, but people are paying through the nose to consult with Princess Meredith and her "bodyguards." People are actually offering our boss, Jeremy Gray, more money for us to grace their Hollywood parties than they'd pay for us to detect anything. Though we still try to do some real work now and then.

Sholto visits, but he can't bring the sluagh to Los Angeles, not permanently. Mistral is homesick for faerie, and doesn't like this modern world. Galen and Rhys both have enough glamour to do actual work for Gray Detective Agency. Rhys loves being a real detective at last. Kitto was happy to have us home, and had already cleaned out a room to be turned into a nursery.

Nights are spent sleeping between Doyle and Frost, or Sholto and Mistral, or Galen and Rhys. The sharing is fair for the sex, but the sleeping arrangements are not. My Darkness and my Killing Frost find their way to me more often than not. No one seems to argue about it, as if they've worked it out among them all.

In the interest of getting good press, and in some cases getting more money into the house, I've taken some interviews. Because we had the soldiers there at the end, they've talked to the press. They saw wonders, and they said so. I don't blame them. We even get visits from Dawson, Orlando, Hayes, Brennan, and some of the others.