Swallowing Darkness

Chapter Twenty-Three

The servant came in with a coat. It was leather pieced together with heavy Frankenstein stitches. The leather was shades of black, different sections having different textures, and some pieces of gray and white among the blackness, as if the coat had been made from different kinds of animals. The stitches and differences in skin should have made it an ugly coat, but it didn't. Somehow it all worked like a club kid meets Goth, with a little motorcycle thrown in.

The really surprising thing to me was that it fit, not just closely, but perfectly. It was so tight through the arms and upper body that I had to take the bloody hospital gown off to fasten the buttons. I knew the feel of the buttons; they were carved bone. The coat fit tightly enough that my cleavage was framed nicely in its V-neck. The tightest part of the coat was under my breasts, so it was almost an empire waist. Then the coat spilled out and down like a ballgown. It buttoned all the way to the floor.

Sholto actually knelt in front of me to finish the buttoning. He smiled up at me. "You look lovely."

Was it shallow to feel better just because I had a coat that fit me well? Maybe, but as bad as I was feeling, I'd take anything that made me feel better.

"It fits perfectly," I said. "Whose clothes am I borrowing?"

"It was made for the queen of the sluagh," he said, standing.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"It means that the court seamstress had a dream some months back. She was told that I would take a queen and that she should sew accordingly."

I rubbed my fingertips down the leather. It was so soft. The seamstress had lined the inside of the coat so that the stitching didn't rub my skin.

"You're saying your seamstress knew Meredith would be queen before anyone else?" Mistral asked.

"Not Meredith, not by name, but the measurements, yes."

"And you let her sew for some phantom queen?" Doyle said.

"Mirabella has sewn for this court for centuries. She has earned the right to be indulged a little. But many of the clothes were made of scraps and pieces, like this coat, so it wasn't a loss." He gave me an appreciative smile. "Seeing Meredith in it lets me know that nothing was lost."

"Why would it be that important that I have clothes here? Important enough for a prophetic dream?" I asked.

"We are under siege," Doyle said. "Perhaps we will be here longer than we think. There are probably clothes to borrow for Mistral and myself, but you would be harder to fit."

"But why would nice clothes be that important?" I asked.

"Mirabella told everyone who would listen that I would take a queen and that she would be only this big." He made a gesture like you would measure a fish. "It forced the remaining hags and our female nightflyers to rethink their pursuit of me."

"You mean women of your court stopped pressuring you because this Mirabella was sewing clothes that would not fit them?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

"Had you seen the clothes before this moment?" Doyle asked.

"No," Sholto said. "The women of my court were much interested but I stayed out of it. Honestly, I thought Mirabella might be doing it to help me keep the women from pestering me so hard." He ran his hand down my leather-clad arm. "But it was a true dream, this."

"I hope it doesn't mean we'll be trapped here," Mistral said. "Nothing personal, King Sholto, but that would mean that the humans were not able to get us out."

"I do not wish for anything to go wrong with Meredith's plan, but I can't say that having her with me longer wouldn't be a pleasure."

There was a soft, respectful knock at the door. I knew without really being told that it was a servant. It's as if they are taught that knock with the job description — a way of drawing attention to themselves, but not interrupting.

Sholto called, "Enter."

The woman who had brought the coat bowed as she came through the door. "King Sholto, I am sorry, but there is a matter that requires your attention."

"Speak plainly, Bebe. What matter?"

All three of her eyes flicked a look at Mistral and Doyle, maybe just a little more to Doyle, before she asked, "Are you certain you wish court matters to be spoken of before strangers?" She went to her knees immediately, "I do not mean Queen Meredith, but the two sidhe."

I thought it was an interesting distinction that they were sidhe but Sholto and I were not. Was it simply that you could not be sidhe and rule the sluagh, or was it an acknowledgment that we both looked too unsidhe-like? I didn't know Bebe well enough to ask her thoughts, but it was still interesting.

Sholto sighed, then turned to us. "I'm sorry, but it is true that you are not sluagh. I'll be right back, hopefully." He didn't look happy leaving us, but he went out into the hallway with the servant.

"Interesting that they do not consider their king to be sidhe," Mistral said.

"Or me," I said.

Doyle came to me, running his hands down the arms of my new garment. "You do look lovely in the coat. It becomes you."

"Yes," Mistral said. "I do not mean to ignore your beauty, Princess. Forgive me." He actually went down on one knee as I'd seen the guards do for Queen Andais when they feared that they'd displeased her.

"Get up," I said, "and never do that again."

He looked puzzled, but he stood, though the uncertainty on his face was almost painful. "I upset you. I am sorry."

"It was the dropping to the ground like you would for the queen," Doyle said.

I nodded. "I've had to do my own groveling on the floor all my life. I don't want to see it in my kings, or the fathers of my children. You can apologize, Mistral, but never drop to the ground as if you are afraid of what I will do. That is not my way."

He looked at Doyle, who gave one nod. Mistral came to stand by us. He smiled a little uncertainly at me. "It may take me a little while to understand this new way of doing things, but I am eager to learn things that keep me off my knees."

I had to smile at that. "Oh, I don't know. I like a man on his knees if it's for a good cause."

Mistral frowned.

Doyle explained. "She means that if you are giving her pleasure, you can kneel to reach."

Mistral actually blushed, something I had never seen him do before. He looked away, but answered, "I would be happy to do that again with you, Princess."

"Meredith, Mistral. My name is Meredith, or even Merry, when we are alone."

The door opened with no knock, and I knew by that that it would be Sholto. He came in, his face very obviously not happy.

"What has happened?" Doyle asked.

"Your mother has sent a message. She demands proof that you are well, or the Seelie are prepared to do more than just camp outside the sluagh's mound."

"Are they truly willing to attack you?" I asked.

"Whether they would do it, I cannot say, but that they threaten it is true enough."

"Do they not understand what they risk?" Doyle asked.

"I think they see no humans to tattle on them, and we have all made small battles one against the other where the humans have not seen them. We do not bear tales to the humans."

"Taranis changed that when he went to the human authorities and accused my men of rape."

"That was... odd," Sholto said.

"And if we can get to the human authorities, we will return the favor, but with a true crime," I said, and even to me I sounded grim.

Doyle hugged me, and I slid my arms around the warm bareness of him.

"We can speak on the court mirror to your mother." Sholto got a strange look on his face.

"What is it?" Mistral asked.

"I just realized that this will be the first time I've spoken to my mother-in-law."

Doyle startled in my arms. "I have thought of Besaba as an enemy for so long, but you are right. She is Meredith's mother."

"No, she only gave birth to me," I said. "You have seen the death of the only woman who earned the right to be called my mother. Gran raised me with my father. My mother wants me now only because she thinks it may make her the mother of the queen of the Seelie. Before Taranis began to show interest in me, she cared nothing for me."

"She is your mother," Sholto said.

I shook my head, still wrapped in Doyle's arms. "I believe that you must earn that title. It's another by-product of being raised among the humans. I don't believe that just giving birth earns you anything."

"The Christians believe that you must honor your father and mother," Doyle said.

"True, but ask most Americans and they'll tell you you have to earn that respect."

"Do you wish to ignore Besaba's request then?" Sholto asked.

"No. She's pretending to be the aggrieved party. We must show her that there's no reason to be aggrieved." I gazed up at Doyle. "Would it be good or bad to have Doyle and Mistral at my side? Would you prefer that it be just you and me, Sholto?"

"I think a show of force is called for," he said. He looked at the other two men. "If you have no objection, I think Meredith and myself in front as king and queen with you at our sides, and some of my other guards behind us. Let us remind them what they would fight."

That seemed to meet with everyone's approval. Sholto said, smiling, "I think I have some clothes that will fit you both, though Mistral's a little bigger through the shoulders. Maybe an open jacket with no shirt, a very barbarian king."

"I will wear what you like," Mistral said. "I appreciate you letting us stay at Meredith's side in this moment."

"Those of the Seelie who are not afraid of the sluagh will fear the Queen's Darkness and Mistral, Lord of Storms."

"It is long since I have had the power to do what my name says."

"You hold the spear that once belonged to the Thunderer. Taranis's mark of power is in your hands, Storm Lord."

"I think," Doyle said, "that that is information best not shared with the Seelie. They are already here for the chalice. If Taranis knew that one of his objects of power had chosen another hand to guide it... " Doyle shook his head and put his hands out, as if grasping for a word.

I finished the thought for him. "Taranis would go apeshit."

"Apeshit?" Doyle made it a question, then nodded. "I was going to say that he would kill us all, but yes, that term will do."