A Shiver of Light

“I am too weak to ever harm anyone so powerful, but if I could kill him for what he did to you, I would,” Royal said.

The demi-fey that were still fluttering tiny and fragile-looking among the roses and blossoms in the room rose in a cloud of wings and said in small voices, “Command us, Merry, and we will do what you need.”

“Are you saying you would kill Taranis for me?”

“Yes.” They said it in unison like birds chirping a word all at once.

“Rid me of this inconvenient man, really?”

“Yes,” they sang again.

“No, I would not send so many of the demi-fey to their death. I do not want vengeance so badly that I would sacrifice all of you.”

“And that is why we would do it for you,” Royal said.

I shook my head. “No, no more deaths of those I value. I’ve lost too many people and seen too much blood spilled because of the madness of kings and queens.”

“Then what do you want us to do about him?” Rhys asked.

“I don’t know; if he loses his head and tries to come near me or the babies again, then we kill him. I won’t let him hurt me again, and I won’t let him near our children.”

“We kill him then,” Doyle said.

“If we can,” Rhys said.

“Oh, we can kill him,” Galen said, as if it were a matter of fact and not a nearly impossible feat.

“How can you be so sure?” Rhys asked.

Galen’s face wore that new harsher expression as he hugged our son. “Because if he comes for Merry and we don’t kill him, he’ll hurt her again, and we won’t allow that.”

“So we’ll kill him, because we have to,” Rhys said.

Galen nodded. “Yes.”

The men all looked at each other and then at me, and I saw the beginnings of a determination that could only end in one way. Taranis, King of Light and Illusion, was going to have to die.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE TRIPLETS WERE in the nursery with Doyle, Frost, and a handful of other guards watching over them while the nurses and doctors did last-minute things in preparation for going home. Galen, Rhys, and I were in the room trying to figure out how we were going to get everything else home. Flowers and other gifts had come from friends, but most of it was from strangers. The fact that Princess Meredith had had her babies had made the news, and America was thrilled to have their faerie princess have triplets! I appreciated the thought, but we were a little overwhelmed by their generosity.

“We’ll need a van just to cart all the flowers and presents home,” Rhys said. He stood in the middle of the room with his hands on hips, surveying all the bouquets, balloons, stuffed animals, potted plants, and gift baskets of food that filled most of the room. We’d started turning away some of the well-meaning gifts, because we needed to leave room for us and the medical personnel to use the room. The hospital had been much happier with the florist shop invasion than with the plants that were still growing in the room. The blooming apple tree curled above all of it. The treetop was pushed against the ceiling as if still trying to grow taller, as if it had come up against the sky and been surprised to find it solid and unforgiving. The nurses had asked if the tree was permanent, and I’d given the only answer I had: I didn’t know.

They were even less happy with the wild roses around the bed because they had thorns. Two nurses and a doctor had pricked themselves on the thorny vines.

“We’ve already given away a lot of it to other patients,” Galen said.

“Most of the stuffed toys should go to the children’s ward,” I said. I turned too fast to motion at the toys and had to stop and try a less dramatic turn. I felt good, but if I moved a certain way I could feel the stitches and the abuse my body had suffered to get our little trio on the outside. I was just happy to be in real clothes again. The sundress was designer maternity, one of the many gifts we’d had over the months that came with the words, “Just tell people what you’re wearing and it’s free.” Since we were supporting a small army of fey on not-large-enough salaries, we’d taken most of the gifts. The ones that didn’t come with contracts to sign, those we’d let our entertainment lawyers to look over.

We’d been offered a reality show. Did we want cameras following us around everywhere? No. Did we need the money? Yes. Which was why the entertainment lawyers were going over the contracts, but we had to decide today. The producers wanted it to begin with the babies coming home, so that meant that the film crew needed to either come to the hospital to start filming, or film us as we brought the babies into the house. We needed the money, but what would my relatives do on camera?

As if he’d read my mind, Rhys said, “I think the reality show is a bad idea, have I said that yet?”

“You mentioned it,” I said, still staring at the stuffed animals, some of which were nearly three feet tall. What would newborn babies do with such a thing? We’d leave them for older children who would love them and needed them more than our tiny ones. Bryluen, Gwenwyfar, and Alastair weren’t able to reach for things yet, let alone manage a forest of giant toys. The world was big enough to them right now without that.

“I agree with Rhys, but I know that Merry feels it’s wrong to expect Maeve to keep supporting all of us.”

“It’s an old tradition that when the ruler visited his nobles they were expected to entertain him, or her, and all their traveling court,” Rhys said. He picked up one of the potted plants and shook his head. I think he was thinking what I was thinking: We couldn’t possibly take all the plants home. It would be a full-time job just to water them all. Though some of the tiny winged demi-fey had picked a few of them to cuddle into; those we’d bring home.