“I believe that, though I do not understand it.”
What I wanted to say was, How sad for you, but my aunt had never taken well to pity. She didn’t understand it and always saw it as an insult, and she certainly never gave pity to anyone. She was pitiless in the true meaning of the word.
I looked past her to Eamon with his own hand on her shoulder. I was sorry for him, too, and if he had been mine I would have reached up and touched his hand, as I did Doyle’s, but he wasn’t mine to worry over, and he loved Andais utterly. I’d never understood why, but I knew it to be truth.
“You are the Queen of Air and Darkness, my aunt; all fear you. How do I make Taranis fear me?”
“You disfigured him in the dream, Meredith; that did frighten him.”
I tensed, holding tighter to Doyle’s hand, my heels involuntarily digging a little harder into Kitto’s back. “I told you that I used my hand of power on him in the dream, but not what hand of power I used. How did you know that?”
“Darkness is not the only one with spies at the Golden Court, Meredith. Taranis’s sleep is troubled, for he keeps seeing his arm melted and crippled from your magic. If you would do that in reality to someone that he could see, a constant visible reminder, it would be a good start to his fearing you.”
“Are you actually suggesting that I pick some random Seelie sidhe and partially cripple or disfigure him, just as an object lesson to Taranis?”
She nodded.
I saw Eamon’s hand tighten on her shoulder, as if to caution her. She patted his hand absentmindedly but did not hold on to it.
“There is no one I hate that much at the Seelie Court,” I said.
She frowned at me. “It’s not about hate, Meredith, it’s about practicality. You asked how to frighten Taranis; well, I’m telling you how to do that. If you don’t want my help, then do not ask for it; it is most irritating to suggest things and watch you make that face.”
“I wasn’t aware I was making a face, Aunt Andais; I will try to school my expression better from now on.”
“And there you go again, that tone in your voice, never a word out of place, but your tone says, clearly, ‘You are a f**king psycho bitch and I hate you.’”
“I would never say such a thing, Aunt Andais.”
“No, you would never say it, but you think it hard enough.”
“I don’t believe I’ve ever said, or even thought, those exact words about you, my aunt.”
“Then what words would you say aloud, if you dared?”
“Are you simply incapable of having a conversation where you don’t threaten me or imply something unpleasant?” I asked.
She startled visibly, and this time she did reach for Eamon’s hand. “I … I hadn’t thought about it, niece of mine. I have spent many centuries where my threat was all that kept me and my court safe. You see what Taranis will do if he does not fear another royal.”
I nodded. “I do understand that. So you’re saying that it’s just habit for you to threaten people?”
She seemed to actually think about it for a moment and then said, “Yes, I believe it is.”
I sighed and squeezed Doyle’s hand. Mistral moved closer to me and laid his hand on my other shoulder. I reached up and took his hand, too. It helped steady me to touch them, though I knew that Mistral did not understand why such casual touch pleased me so; he was the least affectionate of the fathers outside the bedroom, but once he’d accepted that I liked and needed it, he’d tried to do more. I appreciated his efforts and did my best to tell him so.
“That must be very lonely,” Galen said.
We all turned to him slowly, like you do in a horror film, because that was pity and you did not let the queen know you pitied her, ever.
She looked at him, head to one side like a crow about to peck the eye out of a corpse. “What did you say?” Her voice made it plain that she didn’t believe he’d repeat himself, and that he certainly shouldn’t repeat it.
“If people are afraid of you, how do they love you?” he asked.
“Love,” she said, and made it sound like a very different kind of four-letter word.
“Yes,” he said, softly.
I wanted to say, Stop this, don’t make her look at herself that closely, but hadn’t I done just that the last time we spoke to her? Had my boldness made him bolder, too?
“I do not need to be loved, Galen. I need to be obeyed. I need my people to follow me unquestionably.”
“Everyone needs to be loved, my queen,” he said.
“Now you remember I’m your queen; how convenient and how too late.”
“Too late for what, Aunt Andais?” I asked. My heart was thudding in my throat, and I had to swallow past it to speak clearly. Galen had been one of her lesser guards; he had no special place in her esteem, which meant he had no cards to play here. What was he trying to accomplish?
“If Merry disfigured members of the Seelie Court, they could go to the human media. They would think her a monster, and they’d be right.”
She frowned and gave him a very unfriendly look. “Perhaps being thought a monster is the price a queen must pay to keep her people and those she loves safe.”
“Perhaps,” he said, “but Meredith must win the media’s love, or the Golden Court will win their sympathy and all the good work you’ve done over the years in America will be undone. Haven’t you wished for Taranis and his people to be as reviled and feared as we once were?”
She still didn’t look happy, but there was a considering look on her face. He had her thinking, which in this case was good. “Go on,” she said, voice still unhappy, but under that was another tone. I couldn’t quite interpret it, but it wasn’t anger.
“What if we make Taranis the monster in the press? What if we use the modern media to win the hearts and minds of viewers to our side?”
“Viewers? I don’t understand.”
“We’ve been offered a television show.”
“We had decided not to take it,” Doyle said.
Galen turned to Doyle. “But don’t you see? Taranis will never be able to control himself forever. If we give him enough on-camera rope, I think he’ll hang himself.”
“You want him to attack us on camera,” I said, staring at him.
“I think I do, yes, I do.”
“He could hurt or even kill one of us, not to mention endangering the human camera crew,” Rhys said.
“True, it’s a risk, but maybe we don’t have to make him fear Merry, but fear looking bad on TV. He’s the King of Light and Illusion; he prides himself on being desirable, right?”
“He does,” Doyle said.
“What would he do if he saw himself on film being monstrous and terrifying?”
“The cameras could capture your deaths on film very nicely,” Andais said in a voice thick with disdain.
“Or capture us fighting for our lives and defending ourselves.”
“You’re planning to kill him on camera,” Andais said, and she sounded astonished and almost happy.
Galen nodded. “If he attacks us, yes, why not?”
She laughed, head back, her hand in Eamon’s swinging, almost like a child skipping beside you.
“We’d be up on murder charges, for one thing,” Rhys said.
“Maybe, but the camera crew would be our witnesses, don’t you see?”
“It is possible, but Taranis would have to lose complete control on camera,” Doyle said.
“And we would have to have the camera crew in the house with us for weeks, months before the chance might come,” Mistral said. His hand was tense in mine.
I turned and looked up at him. His long gray hair had more glittering strands of gold, copper, and silver, as if the “light” were getting stronger with his anxiety.
“The thought of them filming us truly bothers you,” I said.
“Yes, do you honestly want them filming everything here?”
“There are things that we do, or that happen around us, that we might not want on camera,” Doyle said.
I turned and looked at him. He was right, but … “No, Mistral, I don’t, and Doyle is right.”
“If we just want to kill the king, then let’s do it. Why do the television show? Why give the courts proof we did it? We could go back home and simply execute him for what he did to Merry.”