Seduced by Moonlight mg-3

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  "Just push her back this way," Kurag said.

  Frost answered, "He says she can stay in the mirror until she rots."

  "She won't rot." Kurag turned back to Doyle. "She's not mortal, Darkness, she won't die." He tapped the glass lightly. "This will not destroy her."

  "Well, she can't just stay in the mirror like this," I said. I wasn't sure what we were going to do, but I knew just leaving her there wasn't an option.

  "Actually, Meredith, she could," Doyle said.

  I shook my head. "I don't mean that it's not possible, Doyle, I mean it's not acceptable. I don't want her in my bedroom mirror like some living trophy mounted on a wall."

  "I understand." He looked at the trapped goblin. "I will entertain suggestions, but in honesty, I do not see an easy solution."

  "Could we break the mirror?" Kurag asked.

  "That would likely cut her into pieces."

  "It won't kill her," Kurag said.

  "No, no breaking," Siun said.

  Everyone ignored her.

  "But it might leave one piece on your side of the mirror and one on our side of the mirror," Doyle said. "Can your goblins heal such a terrible wound?"

  Kurag frowned. "They won't die of it."

  "But once we cut her in two, can she be put back together, or will she live bisected?"

  Siun started to push and pull harder. "No breaking the mirror, damn it!"

  I couldn't really blame her for that, but it was one of those problems that even among the fey was so peculiar you couldn't really be horrified by it, not yet. Seeing her stuck in the mirror didn't even seem quite real.

  "Well, if we can't break the mirror, I'm damned if I know what to do," Kurag said.

  Holly came up close to the glass. He touched Siun's body where it went into the glass. He didn't hurt her, but she complained as if he had. Holly's voice came out awed: "Kitto did this. I saw him. I felt the magic race across my body like crawling wind." He traced his hands around Siun where she entered the mirror.

  "Ssstop touching me," she said.

  Holly looked out at us. "I will agree to what my brother wants. I will come to the princess, if there is a chance to gain such power." He gazed at the mirror, and Siun's body. Then his crimson eyes found mine. "We will come to you, Princess." He looked at me, and there was something close to lust in his gaze, but it wasn't the lust of flesh. It was the lust for power. It's a colder wanting, but it can lead to warmer things, hotter things, dangerous things.

  "We will see you all at the banquet, Holly," I said. Saying I look forward to seeing you would have been a lie.

  "We will see you there," Ash said.

  "Let us be clear, Kurag," I said. "A month for every goblin we make sidhe."

  "Agreed," he said.

  "And let us also be clear on this," Doyle said. "There are other ceremonies that can bring sidhe into their power. Not all of them are sexual."

  "Blood combat, you mean?" Kurag said.

  "That, and the great hunts, the great quests."

  "There is no more great hunt, Darkness, and the quests are over. We have not the magic for either."

  "Perhaps, Kurag, but I want the options open to us."

  "If it does not cost them their lives, then you may bring my goblins over as you see fit. In truth, Holly is not the only one who would rather not bed a sidhe." He grinned then, a pale imitation of his usual leer. "None of you has enough extra body parts to be handsome."

  "Oh, Kurag," I said, "you ol' flatterer."

  "I want one thing very clear," Ash said. "For my brother and I it will be sex with Princess Meredith, or nothing."

  "Brother, we do not have to do this," Holly said.

  Ash shook his head, his blond hair sliding around his shoulders. "I want it." He looked at his brother, and something passed between them, some message that I couldn't read. "I will lie with her, Holly, and where I go, you go."

  "I don't like it."

  "Don't like it, just do it," Ash said.

  Holly gave a small nod.

  Ash smiled at us. "We will see you at the banquet, Princess."

  "Agreed," I said.

  "What about me?" Siun half screamed, half whined.

  I shrugged. "I have no idea how to fix this."

  "Nor I," Kurag said.

  "I know how to fix it." Rhys rose from his knees to stand over Siun. She slashed at him with her spined legs. He jerked out of reach, and laughed. It was a strange laugh, pleasant and unpleasant at the same time.

  "How?" Doyle asked.

  "I claim blood price on Siun here and now."

  "Killing her will not rid her from the mirror," Doyle said.

  Rhys nodded. "Yes, it will." He stood over the goblin, just out of reach of her one arm and frantic legs. "I saw this done once on purpose to trap an enemy. Once he was dead, the mirror closed and each side of the glass got the parts on its side, but the mirror was whole."

  Siun struggled, beating against the glass, her spined legs making great white scratches in the varnished wood of the vanity. "No," she said.

  "The last time we were together it was me who was trapped and helpless. I don't think you like it any better than I did."

  She lashed out at him, the black spike on the side of one leg striking the wood so hard it stuck, and Siun had to struggle to free the leg.

  "Temper, temper, Siun," Rhys said.

  "Damn you, Rhysss."

  "If she curses any of us," Doyle said, "then we will trade curses with the goblins. The sidhe are much stripped of their power, but you still do not want to trade curses with us, Kurag."

  "If she curses again, you can cut off her ungrateful head," Kurag said.

  Siun's scream sounded more from anger and frustration than fear. I don't think she feared death here and now. I couldn't blame her. There were very few things that could cause death to the immortal of the fey. It took a great deal of magic invoking mortal blood, or a special weapon. We were fresh out of both.

  Rhys stepped out of reach of Siun's struggles and turned to Kitto. "Frost, give Kitto your short sword."

  Frost looked at Doyle. Kitto didn't even bother looking up.

  "What are you about, Rhys?" Doyle asked.

  Rhys walked around the bed to Frost and Kitto. He knelt so that he was at eye level with the smaller man. He stroked Kitto's hair until he turned his head and looked at Rhys. "I was with her for only a few hours, Kitto. I cannot imagine what it was like to belong to her for months."

  Kitto's voice came hoarse, but clear. "Years."

  Rhys held the smaller man's face between his hands, and pressed their foreheads against each other. He spoke low, and I could no longer understand all the words; only the tone was still clear: persuading, sympathetic, cajoling.

  "Do not ask this of him, Rhys," Frost said.

  Rhys looked up at the bigger man, his hands still holding Kitto's face. "The only way to cleanse yourself of a fear is to face it, Frost. We will face it together, he and I."

  Kitto nodded, his face still held between Rhys's hands.

  "Give him your short sword, Frost, or I'll go fetch him one." There was something in Rhys's face, some command, some strength that hadn't been there before. Whatever it was, Frost responded to it. He sat Kitto on the edge of the bed and stood up. He reached underneath his suit coat and came away with a sword that wasn't much longer than a large knife. In Frost's hands it looked too small. He offered it hilt-first to Kitto.

  Kitto hesitated, then reached a tentative hand for it. The guards had been teaching him weapons skills. He had some, but goblin tactics relied on strength and body mass. It wasn't the right approach for someone Kitto's size. He was learning to use his body the way it was meant to be used, but he was still hesitant in practice, as if he didn't trust himself yet.

  He wrapped his small hands around the hilt, and it was big enough for both of them to hold it, one above the other. He stared down at the naked blade as if it might turn in his hands and bite him.

  Rhys knelt out of sig
ht and came back up with a sheathed sword from under the bed. We kept weapon caches throughout the house, just in case. But I guess there wasn't anything short enough to fit Kitto's hands under the bed.

  Rhys walked back around the bed with a hand on Kitto's shoulder, half guiding and half pushing. Kitto began to hang back as they rounded the bed. The short sword drooped in his hands.

  Siun began to yell, "Kurag, my king, you can't let them do this."

  "Calling me king will not help you now, Siun."

  "Help me, Kurag, help me. Would you ssstand idly by while ssidhe ssslay your goblin?" She held out the one white hand that was on his side of the mirror as far as it would stretch, beseeching.

  Kurag sighed. "Is there anything I can offer you, white knight? A wergild price to replace her life."

  "I won't die, Kurag," Siun said. "They can cut me up, but I won't die!"

  "She's right, pale prince, you cannot truly slay her."

  Kitto had stopped, refusing to go closer to Siun than the last corner of the bed. Short of Rhys picking him up bodily and carrying him the last few feet, Kitto was not getting closer.

  Rhys left him where he was and moved to the mirror, just out of reach of Siun's struggling limbs. He stared down at the trapped goblin, and there was a distant look on his face, a remembering. "Leave the killing to me, Kurag," he said.

  "Name something I am willing to offer, pale prince, and I will pay wergild for her. Surely there is something you would trade for?" Kurag had stepped just behind Siun. He stroked her black-furred back, a soothing gesture.

  "Her life is all I want, Kurag," Rhys said.

  A look of both pleasure and worry crossed Kurag's face, as if he wasn't sure whether it would be too much. His voice was careful as he began, "The life of one of the male goblins who enjoyed your company. Would that be worth Siun's life?" He kept his face and voice as neutral as he could, but there was an eagerness to his orange-yellow eyes that said he enjoyed Rhys's discomfort. I doubt that Kurag had watched Rhys used by men for the sex show, but for the power, for the sight of the mighty thrown low, oh, yes, Kurag had enjoyed that.

  Rhys's face clouded with the beginnings of anger, but he smoothed it away. He turned a thoughtful face to Kurag. "Is there some male in particular you'd offer in Siun's place?"

  Now it was Kurag's turn to look thoughtful. "You remember any names?" His smile was close to his usual leer.

  "Most wanted me to know who it was that would use me. I remembered Siun's name."

  Kurag nodded, and his face sobered again, almost as if he'd said something he would take back if he could. There had to be a male among those who'd been with Rhys whom Kurag hated, or saw as a threat. That was the only thing that made sense. For the Goblin King to admit that anyone was a threat meant it was serious, maybe even dangerous. Goblins did not assassinate each other. It was considered cowardice. A king who resorted to letting others do his killing could be executed. But if Rhys did it now, as a wergild price, then Kurag would be blameless. Still, the fact that Kurag had suggested the name —that would be taken badly. So he stopped short of names. He would not name.

  "Then name someone, white knight, name someone."

  Rhys shook his head. "If you had asked me to name the one goblin I wanted most to kill, it would be Siun." He gestured at the trapped goblin as he said the last. "No one else's death will satisfy."

  "What if the Goblin King could offer something other than a death?" Doyle asked.

  Kurag looked at Doyle, but Rhys had eyes only for Siun. "What would you have, Darkness?"

  Doyle allowed himself a small smile. "What would you offer?"

  Rhys shook his head, and I knew what he was going to say before he said it. "No, Doyle, no, I want this death. I won't trade it away." He looked back at the tall, dark man, met Doyle's unhappy gaze. "I am sorry, but not for politics. I won't trade this death away for just politics."

  "And if it could gain us some advantage for Meredith?"

  He frowned, then finally shook his head. "No." He looked at me, where I stood almost forgotten by the bed. "I'm sorry, Merry, but I will have this death." He turned back to Doyle. "Trust me, Doyle, Siun dead will help us more than Siun alive."

  Doyle made a push-away gesture. "As you will."

  Rhys held his hand out to Kitto, who still stood frozen by the bed. "Come on, Kitto, let's do this."

  Kitto was shaking his head over and over. "Can't," he finally said.

  "Yes, you can," Rhys said. He waggled his hand at him. "Come."

  Doyle held his hand out to me. "Come, Meredith, let's put you out of the line of—fire." He hesitated over the last word as if he would have said something else. I went to him, stepping carefully between Kitto and Rhys, and the naked blade in Kitto's hand.

  Rhys unsheathed the sword in his hand and flung the empty sheath toward Doyle, who caught it without looking, with his free hand. The other hand stayed in mine, and there was the faintest dew on his palm. Doyle was nervous. Why?

  I was missing something. I had no idea what, but if it made Doyle nervous, it was probably a bad thing to miss. I was princess here, which meant I was supposed to be the ruler, but as so often seemed to happen, I was out of my depth. If I hadn't had the touch of Doyle's hand in mine, I would never have suspected he was nervous. That meant the goblins didn't know it at all. We needed to keep it that way.

  Rhys raised the long silver blade up over his head for a great downward strike. Siun pleaded, "My king, my king, help me!"

  "I offered you his sex and his flesh, Siun. I didn't tell you to maim him." Kurag stroked her furry back one last time, then stepped back. "If you can kill sidhe, do it, but don't fuck them up and leave them alive, because they never forget, and they never forgive." He looked at Rhys. "She's yours." He didn't sound happy about it, but he wasn't brokenhearted, either. I don't think he cared for Siun one way or the other. He'd tried to save her because she was one of his people, nothing more.

  Siun tried to plead with Rhys, but to raise her one arm up to him she had to stretch her body upward. Her pale breasts flashed, and a look came over Rhys's face, a look that I never, ever wanted to see directed at me. "Do you remember what you made me do with those?" he asked, in a voice that seemed to burn through the room.

  "No," she said, and she held out that arm, opened that mouth, and begged.

  "I do," Rhys said, and the blade flashed down. The sword bit into the back of her body with a sound like cracking plastic, and that sound alone let me know that whatever skeletal system Siun had, it wasn't sidhe. But the blood was still red. Rhys chopped at her like you'd fight a tree that couldn't fight back. One of her black legs with its dagger-like spurs slashed through his robe to the skin beyond. The second slash was down his side, and it made him hesitate, clutching at the wound.

  Kitto was suddenly there, his clean silver blade catching a leg before it could slice at Rhys. He severed the leg with one blow, and it went spinning onto the carpet at our feet. Doyle moved me farther away from them, and I didn't argue.

  Frost started to cross the room, to join the fight, I think. Doyle stopped him with the sheath of Rhys's sword, held like a barrier. He shook his head twice, and Frost stood beside us, one hand holding his other wrist, as if he had to hold something if he couldn't fight.

  Kitto was screaming, a high, maddened wail. It was a battle cry of sorts, but the battle cry of the damned, the lost, the wounded, risen up to smite their masters. The sound raised the hair at my neck and made me huddle against Doyle's body. He hugged me to him, wordless, his eyes on the fight.

  Rhys stepped back from the body. He leaned against the wall, favoring his wounds, letting the gore drip down his sword. The front of his robe was soaked with Siun's blood and his own. A splatter of crimson stained the side of his face and his white hair. He didn't seem tired; he had just stopped fighting. Was he hurt?

  Kitto alone struggled with the goblin, chopping and slicing, whittling her away a piece at a time. She'd tried to protect her head, rolling it under
her body in a way that no human shape could have done, but Kitto split her head wide in a fountain of blood and thicker things. And still she lived.

  Kitto was covered in blood and gore nearly from forehead to feet. His blue eyes looked so blue, it was like watching blue fire pool in a mask of blood.

  I looked at Rhys, who was just leaning against the wall. He had to be hurt. I started to go to him, but Doyle held me back, shook his head.

  "We have to help Kitto then," I said.

  Doyle just shook his head, his face grim.

  I grabbed his arm. "Why not?" I turned back to watch Kitto struggling with the dagger-like legs that slashed and fought even as he cut them away. The goblin could still hurt him badly.

  For the first time I wished Doyle had been wearing a shirt, so I could shake him by it. "He'll get hurt."

  Doyle hugged me against his body, and it wasn't exciting as it had been earlier, with Rhys, it was irritating. "Let me go."

  He leaned close and whispered against my face, "It is Kitto's kill, Merry, let him have it."

  I stood pressed to his body, and didn't understand. It wasn't Kitto's kill, it was Rhys's. Then I looked at Rhys standing there, doing nothing. He watched Kitto. I remembered then what I'd forgotten. When my first hand of power had come in unexpectedly, Doyle had made me give true death to the hag I'd accidentally turned into a mass of living flesh. The hand of flesh is just that, it can take flesh and turn it inside out—a leg, an arm, a whole body. He gave me the choice of killing her, or leaving her like some inside-out ball of flesh forever. She'd never die, just remain. Even with a sword that was capable of giving death to the immortal, the blood had soaked through my clothes to my underwear. I'd been covered in it. When it was done, Doyle had informed me that you needed to bloody yourself in combat after the first hand of power manifests so that it would come again, a sort of blood sacrifice. I'd hated him for making me do that. I hated him and Rhys now, for doing the same to Kitto.

  Kitto gave his war cry until his voice broke. He chopped and sliced on the body until he couldn't raise his arms higher than his waist, and fell to his knees on the blood-soaked carpet. He gasped for air, and it was almost loud enough to drown out Siun's high-buzzing scream.