Swallowing Darkness

Chapter Twenty-Five

Besaba was tall, slender, and very sidhe in her body build. But her hair was only a thick, wavy brown, bound on her head in a complicated hairdo that left her thin face too bare for my taste. She had her mother's hair, and brown eyes, very human eyes. It had only been in the last few months that I'd realized one of the reasons she had always hated me. I might be short, and too curvy, but I couldn't have passed for human with my hair, eyes, and skin. She could have.

She was wearing a dress of deep orange, decorated with gold embroidery. It was a dress to please Taranis, who was very fond of fire colors.

She was in a tent that they had set up on the ground outside. She looked to be alone, but I knew better. Taranis's allies would never have trusted her to make the call without watchers to "guide" her.

I was sitting in Sholto's official calling room, which meant it was richly appointed, and had a throne for a chair. It wasn't "the" throne of the sluagh court. That was made of bone and ancient wood. This one was a gold and purple throne, probably found in some human court long, long ago. But it served its purpose. It looked impressive, though not as impressive as the men around me, or the writhing mass of nightflyers who clung to the wall behind us like a living tapestry from some nightmare you'd rather forget.

Sholto sat on the throne, as befitted the king. I sat on his lap, which lacked a certain dignity, but we thought it might get the point across that I was having a good time. Of course, when someone doesn't want to understand, nothing you can do will make them see the truth. My mother had always been excellent at seeing only what she wished to see.

Doyle was on one side of the throne, Mistral on the other. If we hadn't had the nightflyers behind us, we'd have looked very sidhe. But we wanted whoever was with my mother, just out of sight of the mirror, to understand that they would not be fighting only the four of us, if they pressed. They needed to understand that above all else.

I had settled myself comfortably on Sholto's lap. His arm curved around my waist, putting his hand on my thigh in a very familiar way. He hadn't actually earned such a familiar gesture. Of the three men with me, he had been with me the least, but we were putting on a show, and one point of that show was to prove that I was their lover. When trying to prove something like that, a little hand on the thigh can say volumes.

"I do not need rescuing, Mother, as you well know."

"How can you say that? You are Seelie sidhe, and they have taken you from us."

"They have taken nothing that the Seelie valued. If you speak of the chalice, then all who can hear my voice know that chalice goes where the Goddess wills it, and she has willed it to me."

"It is a sign of great favor among the Seelie, Meredith. You must come home and bring the chalice, and you will be queen."

"Taranis's queen, you mean?" I asked.

She smiled happily. "Of course."

"He raped me, Mother." Doyle moved a little closer to me, though he was quite close to begin with. I reached out to him without thinking so that he held my hand, even while I sat in Sholto's lap.

"How can you say such things? You bear his twins."

"They are not his children. I am with the fathers of my twins."

Mistral moved nearer the chair. He did not reach out for me, because I was out of hands, one in Doyle's hand, and one on Sholto's arm. He simply moved closer, to help me emphasize my point, I think.

"Lies. Unseelie lies."

"I am not queen of the Unseelie yet, Mother. I am queen of the sluagh."

She settled the stiff, rich sleeves of her gown, and harrumphed at me. "Again, falsehoods," she said.

I had a moment when I wished I could conjure the crowns of faerie to me, but such magic came and went when it would. Though, frankly, seeing Sholto and me in the crowns might just make her more convinced that we were Seelie. It was all flowers and herbs, after all.

"Call it what you will, but I am content in the company I keep. Can you say as much?"

"I love my court and my king," she said, and I knew she meant it.

"Even after some of that court conspired to kill your mother, my grandmother, just days ago?"

Her face clouded for a moment, then she stood straight again and faced me. "It was not Cair who slew my mother. I am told that it was one of your guards who struck the blow."

"To save my life, yes."

She looked shocked then, and I think it was real. "Our mother would never have harmed you. She loved you."

"She did, and I her, but Cair's magic turned her against me, and my people. It was an evil spell, Mother, and the fact that she used her own grandmother to carry it was worse."

"You lie."

"I led the wild hunt to get my revenge. If it had not been the absolute truth, the hunt would either have not answered my call, or when it arrived the hounds of the hunt would have torn me limb from limb. They did not. They helped me hunt Cair down. They helped me kill her, and save the fathers of my children, who were still being attacked."

She shook her head, but looked a little less sure of herself. A bit, but I knew her. Her certainty would return. It always did. She would get a glimpse of how wrong she was, or how evil her allies were, then she'd shake off that flitting insight and embrace her ignorance like a well-worn cloak.

I leaned forward in Sholto's lap, my hand finding his hand so that I held both his and Doyle's hands. I leaned toward the mirror on the wall and spoke quickly, trying to get through this small chink in my mother's willful ignorance.

"Mother, the wild hunt does not do the bidding of liars or traitors. Taranis did rape me, but he was too late. I am to have twins, and the Goddess has shown me who the fathers are."

"You have two babies, but three men. Who is to be left out?" She was retreating from the harshest truths to concentrate on smaller things. Not a question about the rape, or the traitors whom the wild hunt had helped us destroy, but the math of fathers and babies.

"The history of the sidhe is full of goddesses who had children by more than just one man, Mother. Clothra is the one most oft named, but there have been others. Apparently, I will need many kings, not just one."

"You have been bespelled, Meredith. All know that the King of the sluagh is a great one for glamour." She was back to her certainties. Sometimes I wondered why I tried with her. Oh, she was my mother. I suppose we never quite give up on parents. Maybe they feel the same way about us.

"Faerie itself has made us a couple, Mother." I unbuttoned my tight-fitting cuff, and rolled it back as much as the coat would allow, which was not much. Sholto's sleeve was looser, so that more of his rose and thorn tattoo showed, but enough showed to prove that the tattoos were a pair.

She shook her head. "You can get a tattoo at any human shop."

I laughed then. I couldn't help it.

She looked startled. "There is nothing funny here, Meredith."

"No, Mother, there is not." But my face was alight with humor. "But it is either laugh or start screaming at you, and I don't think that would be helpful."

I pushed my sleeve back down and closed the bone button once more. Sholto followed my lead. I stood and walked out of sight of the mirror, just long enough to fetch something from the table near the far wall.

Mistral said, "Do you think that wise?"

I looked at the table that held all the ancient weapons that had come to us. Was it a good idea? I wasn't entirely certain, but I was tired. I was tired of people trying to kill us. I was tired of people assuming that if they could strip me of my men I would be a pawn to be used as they saw fit. I'd had enough.

I hesitated with my hand over the sword Aben-dul. I prayed. "Goddess, do I show them what I am? Do I make them afraid of me?" I waited for some sign, and thought at first that she would not answer me, then a faint perfume of roses came. I felt the tattoo on my arm flare to life, and the moth on my stomach flutter. The weight of the rose and mistletoe crown wove itself to life on my head.

I wrapped my hand around the hilt of the sword. I was afraid of it. Afraid of what it could do in my hands. The hand of flesh was a terrible power. With this sword I could use that power from a distance, and no one could take it from my hand without risking the very horror that they were trying to avoid.

I walked back to the mirror with the sword held in one hand like you would hold a flag. I stood in front of Sholto, and held the sword before me.

"Do you know this sword, Mother? Does anyone within sight of this mirror know this sword?"

She frowned, and I was willing to bet that she wouldn't know it. Mother never cared for Unseelie power. But someone in the tent would know it, of that I was almost certain.

It was Lord Hugh who walked into view. He actually gave a little bow before he peered more closely at the mirror. He paled. That was answer enough; he knew it.

He spoke, hoarsely. "Aben-dul. So the sluagh stole that away as well." But he didn't believe it.

I reached my free hand back to Sholto. He took my hand and came to stand beside me. The moment his tattooed arm touched mine, the magic flexed, as if the air itself took a breath. The herb crown wove itself to life while the Seelie watched. The herb ring on his finger bloomed white, and his crown bloomed into a haze of pastel flowers. We stood crowned by faerie itself before them.

"This is King Sholto of the sluagh, crowned by faerie itself to rule. I am Queen Meredith of the sluagh, and I bear his child, his heir."

I let the hand holding Aben-dul drop to my side. "Hear me, Mother Besaba, and all the Seelie listening to my voice. The old magic is returning. The Goddess moves among us once more. You can either move with her power, or be left out of it. It is your choice. But it is truth that is needed, no more lies, no more illusions. Think well upon that before you decide to try to take me back by force."

"Are you threatening me?" she asked, and it was so like her to concentrate on the smaller issue. Though I suppose for her it might have been the large issue.

"I am saying that it would be unwise to force me to use all the power I have been given by the Goddess to defend myself. And I will use every ounce of power I have to keep from being forced back to Taranis. I will not be his victim again. I will not be raped again, not even by the King of the Seelie."

Lord Hugh had stepped back a little from the mirror. "We hear your words, Princess Meredith."

"Queen Meredith," I said.

He gave a little bow of his head. "Queen Meredith."

"Then disband this ill-conceived and unneeded rescue attempt. Go back to your faerie mound and your deluded king, and leave us in peace."

"His orders were very specific, Queen Meredith. We are to come back with you and the chalice, or not return at all."

"He has exiled you, unless you succeed?" I asked.

"Not in those words, but we are left few choices."

"You must kidnap me for him, or be kicked out," I said.

Lord Hugh spread his hands wide. "Blunter than I would have put it, but not inaccurate, unfortunately, for all concerned."

There was movement in the tent wall, and Lord Hugh said, "Please, forgive me, Queen Meredith, but I have a message." He bowed again and left me looking at my mother.

She said, "You look lovely in a crown, Meredith, just as I always knew you would." She even looked pleased, as if what she said were true.

I could have said a lot of things in that moment. Like "If you thought I would ever rule, why did you let Taranis nearly beat me to death as a child?" Or, "If you thought I would ever be queen, why did you give me away, and never wish to see me?" What I said out loud was "I knew you would like the crown, Mother."

Lord Hugh came back into sight. He bowed lower. "I am told that human police and soldiers are coming. You called the humans for help."

"I did."

"Now if we attack, the Seelie Court could be banished from this new land, which would leave the Unseelie and the sluagh in place, and in control of the last remnants of faerie."

I smiled sweetly at him.

"You would win all that Queen Andais has sought to win for centuries without the Unseelie, or the sluagh, striking a blow."

"The point is to not strike the blow," I said.

He gave the lowest bow yet, a real one, causing him to partially vanish from the view of the mirror. When he stood up, he had a look of naked admiration on his face. "It seems as if the Goddess and faerie have not chosen ill in their new queen. You have won. We will retreat, and you have given us a reason that even King Taranis will understand. He would never risk our entire court being cast from these shores."

"I am very glad that your king will take you back, and understand that to do anything but retreat would be extremely unfortunate," I said.

He bowed again. "I thank you for finding a way out of our dilemma, Queen Meredith. I had not heard that you played politics well."

"I have my moments," I said.

He smiled, bowed once more, and said, "We will leave you to be rescued by the humans then."

"We aren't going to leave her with the sluagh," my mother said, as if horrified at her daughter's fate.

"Give it a rest, Mother," I said, and blanked the mirror.

She was still arguing with Lord Hugh, as if she believed what Taranis had told her. It was clear that Lord Hugh did not. But then if I went back as Taranis's queen, Besaba wouldn't be the mother of the new queen of the Seelie. She had more to gain politically, if Taranis was telling the truth.

Sholto kissed my hand, smiling. "That was very well done, My Queen."

I grinned at him. "It helps when faerie itself crowns you, and major relics keep popping up."

"No, Meredith," Doyle said, "that was well played. Your father would have been very proud."

"Indeed," Mistral said.

And in that moment, holding a weapon that only myself and my father could have safely wielded, covered in faerie's blessing, and knowing that my father would have been proud of me meant more than all the rest. I guess in the end you never outgrow wanting to please your parents. Since I'd never please my mother, my father was all I had left. He always had been. He and Gran.

My parents were dead now, both of them. The woman in the mirror was just the person whose body spit me out. It takes much more than that to be a mother. I prayed that I would be a good mother, and for help to keep all of us safe. There was a shower of white rose petals from nowhere, coming down like perfumed snow. I guess that was answer enough. The Goddess was with me. As help went, it didn't get much better than that. As the Christians said, if God is with me, who can be against me? The answer, unfortunately, was almost everyone.