Chapter 57 - Arrival

that is

A Short Tale of a Letter, Girl Time and Its Effects, a Pseudo-Cat Fight, the Possibility of Friendship, Farewells, and a King's Suspicion

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Nuada woke tucked into bed - how had he gotten there? He vaguely remembered Dylan leading him to the bed. There was a hazy recollection of someone tucking him in and smoothing back his hair. Lips brushing his forehead. A soft voice crooning a lullaby slightly out of tune. You and I'll be safe and sound....

Dylan must have put him to bed, he realized. He'd been so tired he'd barely understood what was happening or he surely would have protested. Had his lady gone back into the children's room after? Firegold eyes blinked and focused on the door, slightly ajar, that led to the room where the children had slept the night before.

A'du'la'di poked his head through the doorway. "Your Highness?" The boy scruffed his mane, and Nuada saw that his arm was no longer in a sling. The healing had finally set enough that his arm no longer needed it. A'du stepped in holding a pile of folded clothes. Atop the pile was a piece of paper. "A'ge'lv Dylan said to bring this to you when you woke up."

The clothes were Nuada's own, deep blue and black silk and leather. A'du said Becan had brought them from the cottage. The piece of paper was a note from Dylan.

"Good morning, Nuada.

I'm with Kaye and Val somewhere in the sithen. We're doing "girl stuff"
according to Kaye, and you're supposed to stay far away until we're done.
That depresses me greatly, but I think I can manage a little while longer.
Please make sure A'du'la'di eats breakfast. I have 'Sa'ti with me, but A'du
wanted to stay with you. He still has your knife, by the way.

I talked to the healers. Tsu's'di is out of the woods, and John is going to
make it too. Thank you so much for saving him.

Nuada, I wanted to write you one of those letters like you wrote me,
but I'm not very good  at that kind of thing. So I'm just going to tell you
that you're amazing. You're absolutely  wonderful. Don't you ever forget
that, okay? I want you to know that you have done so much for me. When
you smile at me, you make me feel so happy. When you hold me, you
make me feel so very safe. When I'm with you, I feel wanted. And when
you kiss me, I feel beautiful. I'm so grateful to have you in my life. You've
made it so much better. You are  more precious to me than light or breath
or life. I just wanted you to know that.

I'll see you when Kaye finally cuts me loose. I should be ready to leave for
Findias when that happens.

Love always, Dylan"

It took him a moment to be certain his voice would not shake when next he spoke. After how cruel he had been, after making her cry... first she had comforted him in the wake of that brutal nightmare. Soothed him with her touch and with a lullaby. And now she'd written him this letter.

By the stars, what had he ever done to deserve her?

There was still A'du to deal with, he reminded himself. The prince glanced at the cougar fidgeting next to where he'd set the clothing pile at the foot of the bed. "Have you eaten breakfast?" Nuada asked, rising. The boy shook his head. The prince sighed. "I suppose you want some."

"A'ge'lv Dylan said to make sure you eat. She said not to leave you alone for a minute because you're sad and she says you need looking after."

It took every ounce of self-control for Nuada not to back away from the child as the blood drained from his face. He needed looking after? By A'du'la'di? For a moment he felt the sharp sting of betrayal. In his moment of weakness and vulnerability, she'd sicced the child on him! Left him at the cub's mercy - again! He'd been awake for barely five minutes and now he had to worry about the boy sticking like a tick to the letter of Dylan's "orders."

"I'm sorry, Your Highness," the boy murmured, distracting Nuada from his mental tirade against his lady and her supposed orders. Feral eyes narrowed at the boy's somber expression. "About your friend. Do you know if he's okay?" Solemn gray eyes flicked to Nuada's face before finding the floor again. "I hope he's okay."

The prince reached for the shirt atop the clothing pile. "I do not know if he is all right," Nuada said softly. Images flashed behind his eyes - Wink's Seal lying in a splash of gray blood; the butchered corpse in his nightmare; the little boy at his side sprawled across asphalt with a broken neck. The prince banished them ruthlessly. Then he gripped the boy's shoulder. "But I thank you, A'du'la'di, for the sentiment. Now, are you fit to be seen in my presence?"

"Um...." The boy looked down at the livery he wore - a simple slate-gray cotton shirt over royal blue canvas trousers, perfect for a rowdy child. The badge embroidered with Dylan's crest was bright on his shoulder. "I'm all dressed... oh!" A'du's ears pricked. "I gotta brush my teeth!"

Nuada inclined his head. "Then go brush them. I will meet you at the door once I've dressed."

The boy scampered out of the room while the feral-eyed warrior stripped out of the previous day's clothes and dressed in hard black leather over blue silk. Although Roiben's sithen was a safe place, although Roiben himself was an ally and a friend, Nuada still slipped on the simple leather vambraces and sleeveless tunic he sometimes wore as armor. Donning his boots, he tied his sheathed sword at his waist and fastened his spear to his back.

Only then did he pick up the note from Dylan. Lightly caressed the words she'd written so carefully on the smooth, white paper. I'm so grateful to have you in my life. No one had ever said something like that to him before. Not ever. You are more precious to me than light or life or breath. He carefully folded the letter and slid it into an inner pocket where it would be safe until he could find a place to put it. Maybe in the trinket box in his santuary with the peony. You're absolutely wonderful. Don't you ever forget that, okay?

"Your Highness, I'm awful hungry," A'du'la'di said mournfully from the doorway, grabbing the prince's attention. "Aren't you hungry? They've got pocket pies! With eggs and sausage and all kinds of stuff. And pancakes with plum preserves! And if we don't hurry it'll be all gone!"

"Horrors," Nuada muttered as he and the boy left the room.

.

"I am going to kill you both," Dylan grumbled as something cold slipped onto her face. "Painfully. And Roiben will never know," she added as someone else took her hand and started fiddling with her fingers. A harsh grating sound disturbed the air. "Because I will hide your bodies where no one will ever find them." She tried to ignore the servants laughing as she said this.

"Relax, Dylan," Kaye said from off to one side. "He'll like it."

She protested, "He likes me the way I am, thank you very much."

Liked her quite an awful lot, Dylan thought, recalling the feel of his mouth on hers and the gentle strength of his arms around her. Those memories still sent heat fluttering in her belly, made her heart race.

She had to be careful. They couldn't do that again. The kisses had been chaste enough, but the feelings behind them... that delicious, oh so tempting heat... she had to be more careful.

But this time, she didn't have to worry about Nuada. He'd understood. The moment he'd asked her to lie beside him, and he'd seen the answer in her face, he'd understood how she felt. He knew her so well. Loved her as she was. How had she gotten so lucky?

And how the heck had she let Val and Kaye talk her into this?

Oh, right. Because for the return to Findias, she needed to look her absolute best. To shine on Nuada's arm, do him honor. And the only way to do that, apparently, was to let Kaye's servants have their metaphorical way with her. Which was fine, except... she had no idea what they were doing to her. Well, as long as they didn't cut her hair. She'd survive as long as they didn't cut her hair.

Someone took her other hand. Judging by the fact that the hand holding hers only had three incredibly long fingers and a thumb, she was fairly certain it was Kaye. The pixie's voice near the mortal's ear confirmed it. "Don't be scared when you look in the mirror, okay?"

Dylan's eyes snapped open. "What are you guys doing to me?"

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While the children and Tsu's'di wolfed down their early supper, Nuada gazed at the small sheet of paper bearing Dylan's note.

You're amazing. He had no idea why he had a difficult time forgetting those words. It wasn't as if Dylan had never said such things before. She was always giving him compliments. Always looking at him as if the sun rose and set on his smile. So why did this letter distract him so much?

He had pondered her words throughout the day as he looked in on Tsu's'di, spoke with Roiben about getting his help in possibly finding Wink, gone to the local Troll Market to pick up a couple things, and dealt with all the last-minute arrangements of their return.

She'd signed it "Love always, Dylan." Such a simple thing, but it warmed him, thawing the dark chill that had settled in his bones ever since he'd gone to Midnight Fest. The fact that his truelove had even bothered to write such a missive helped warm him further. Why had she done that? Especially after all that had occurred last night. Surely she'd been too tired. And surely he had not deserved it after snarling at her during their fight, even though he had apologized. And afterwards....

What was taking her so long? They were supposed to leave for Bethmoora after supper. The children were already in the livery Becan had delivered that morning, being very careful not to spoil their clothes while they ate. He was dressed, armed, and ready. So where was Dylan? Worry prickled along his shoulderblades like a warning.

"Whoa!" A'du'la'di suddenly cried, his whiskers and ears pricking and eyes widening. Nuada looked up from the letter to see the boy staring at something over the prince's shoulder with shining eyes. "A'ge'lv, you look like a total babe!" Tsu's'di cuffed him lightly with a light bap to the back of his head, but the cougar child merely grinned impishly at his brother. "Well, she does!"

'Sa'ti's eyes widened too. "Oh, A'ge'lv, you look bee-you-tee-ful!"

Nuada turned to see Dylan, flanked by Lady Kaye and the mortal Val, start to walk - almost to glide - into the small dining room. He recognized the dress she wore; the same slinky black dress sprinkled with tiny star-like jewels she'd worn the night he'd returned to the cottage. He hadn't had time to appreciate it then. He did now - the way it fell in soft shadows past her knees, the way the bell-like sleeves accentuated her slender wrists and elegant hands, the way the neckline framed her lovely collarbones. But that was nothing compared to the rest of her.

So that's what they had been doing with her all day. "Girl stuff," as her note had said. Whatever women did to make themselves look just a little more lovely before an important occasion. Dylan looked like herself, but at the same time... different. Herself, and yet more somehow. Almost fey-like. Her hair hung in loose curls down her back. Her skin looked soft as satin. His fingers ached to stroke along the elegant curve of her cheek and the length of her slender neck. And her eyes. They'd done something to make those lovely haunted eyes almost entrancing. The only thing they had left alone was her mouth. It was soft, lush and inviting all on its own.

"Hey, everyone. Sorry I'm late." Slanting her gaze at the pixie beside her, Dylan added, "It took a bit longer than Kaye said it would." Her eyes found Nuada as the Elf rose to his feet and walked toward her, his handsome face inscrutable. She swallowed. "So... how do I look, Your Highness?"

He reached up and skimmed the very tips of his fingers over her cheek. Her skin was even softer than it looked. "'Sa'ti is right - you look absolutely beautiful." The expression on her face at those words fired Nuada's blood. Curling his hand around the back of her neck, he drew her in a little. His fingers brushed lightly over her pulse. She laid one hand on his shoulder to steady herself as Nuada's arm slid around her waist. "Lady Dylan, you are breathtaking."

She dazzled him with her smile. "Well, thank you, Prince Nuada."

The Elf prince took her hand and brought it to the heat of his mouth. He planted a smoldering kiss against Dylan's knuckles that turned her blood to liquid gold. A sigh managed to escape her.

Nuada added, "I am considering running off with you so that I might have your beauty to myself for a while." More softly, allowing a whisper of heat to enter his voice that made her shiver more than a little, he said, "I would pay you fairer compliment, my lady, but the stunning vision before me has rendered me nearly speechless."

Dylan rolled her eyes a little, but when Nuada kissed her fingers again, flutters of warmth tickled her stomach and she couldn't suppress her smile. "I bet you say that to all the girls," she murmured, more than a little breathless.

"Only," he said, breath deliciously warm against her skin, "the ones who hold a place in my heart."

The ones, he added through the link of their joined hands, who make my heart race and fire my blood. The ones who comfort me when I am low and give me a good smack when I am being a boorish idiot. Nuada smiled when Dylan grinned. The ones who know me as well as I know myself. In short, my fair lady, only the one who stands before me now. Only the one who is mine.

The soft look she graced him with left his blood humming and warmth caressing his heart. "Mo cridh," he whispered against her slender fingers. "Mo duinne."

"I think," said a familiar and most unwelcome voice, "that I'm going to throw up."

Honey-gold eyes flashed molten bronze as Nuada, rage suddenly boiling in his blood, started to pivot towards Dylan's twin. Then, surprisingly, Dylan laughed.

"Johnny! Don't tease him, he can't tell you're joking," she said, slipping out of Nuada's grasp and moving to throw her arms around her brother's neck. The whelp winced a little, but wrapped his arms around her. He kissed her temple. Smiled. The Elf prince felt something cold slither into his belly when Dylan smiled back at her twin. She'd never looked so happy. Not even when Nuada had taken her to the royal forest. Not even, he thought as his stomach knotted, when he'd shown her the unicorns. "How do you feel, John-boy?"

"Like a pair of shandymen ran their cruddy Porsche into my Mustang and then impaled me with a wooden stake." The twins shifted so that the feckless idiot could sling an arm about Dylan's shoulders. Nuada gritted his teeth. "And like I haven't had my coffee," John added, grinning when Dylan made a disgusted face. "Yeah, yeah. Spare me the coffee lecture this one time, seeing as how I nearly died, okay? And how are you, Sis?"

"Wonderful, now that I know you're okay," she said, thumping her head against his shoulder. Nuada felt his heart thump painfully in his chest. Dylan draped her arm around John's waist. "Have you eaten yet? Come sit with me."

At the table, John on one side of her, Dylan glanced back to see Nuada coming to sit beside her. He moved, she thought with a lancing of concern, like a man who'd received a near-fatal wound and was trying to hide it while slowly bleeding to death. Gone was the suave, charming prince who'd paid her fair - and cheesy - compliment. She wanted to ask if he was all right - was it the nightmare again? - but with John right next to her, she had the feeling the Elven warrior would merely brush off her concern. So she merely ghosted her fingertips over his wrist. When he glanced at her, she flashed him a smile. He didn't smile back, but his eyes softened and melted back to that honey-gold she liked so much.

Nuada glance the children, who had both ceased eating to stare at this strange human who their mistress so obviously loved (and their prince so obviously did not). Finally, A'du'la'di cast a furtive glance toward the Elf prince before demanding of John, "Who are you?"

The human paused with a strawberry halfway to his mouth. "Um... I'm John. Who are you?"

"I'm A'du'la'di Ewah, of the Children of the Cougar," the boy said coolly. His ears flattened against his skull and his whiskers slicked back along his cheeks as he added with narrowed eyes and a slight growl under his words, "I'm A'ge'lv Dylan's page."

"Well, I'm Dylan's twin brother."

The cougar boy immediately looked at Nuada. "A'ge'lv Dylan has a brother?"

"Yes," Nuada replied tonelessly. The Elf prince was torn between reprimanding the boy for his rudeness and wanting to applaud him for his attitude regarding the troublesome human whelp. "She has one brother and seven older sisters, isn't that right?"

Dylan nodded and took a sip of strawberry cordial from the small glass a servant had provided for her. "John, this young lady is U'de'ho'sa'ti, or just 'Sa'ti, my handmaid. And this young gentleman beside her is-"

"Tsu's'di Ka'ta," the youth said too softly, locking eyes with John. There was a faint hint of growl to the cougar youth's words as well. Like his little brother, his ears were flat to his head and his fur was fluffed in aggression. "Lady Dylan's bodyguard."

Oh, great, she thought with no little irritation. The kids were taking their cue from Nuada. Which meant they didn't trust John and probably didn't like him on principle, since their prince didn't like this strange human male either.

"Okay," Dylan said, slanting a look at her prince. "Here's the deal. I love John. You don't have to love him, but everyone has to be nice to everyone else. That includes certain deliriously attractive Elven princes I know," she added, and was rewarded with a fleeting quirk of Nuada's lips. Fleeting, because John made a gagging sound. "Oh, my gosh, John, you are so immature!"

"I'm twenty-one; it kinda comes with the territory. Ask Francesca."

"I'd rather not, thanks," his twin replied. "No matter what we start off talking about, eventually it always gets around to my love life. Now behave. Don't make me kick you under the table."

"I'm very afraid now. Ow." John slanted Dylan a look. She glared back at him for a second before losing the battle to hide her smile. "Ha. I win."

"Shut up and eat, John-boy, before I paint your nails again."

"I'll be good!" He yelped, and applied himself to his food as if eating would soon be declared illegal. Dylan just laughed and went back to her own dinner, which involved something remarkably similar to French toast, her favorite breakfast-any-time food.

Nuada feigned indifference, and his seemingly uncaring attitude regarding the two mortals soon returned the three ewah to their former ease. They quickly began eating again. All three of them needed an extensive amount of fuel in order to recuperate from the healing magic that had been laid into their bodies. Although they were mostly recovered, the spells were still necessary to keep the healing and strengthening on track, and the magic had to get its power from somewhere.

After the hasty meal, Dylan and the children went to double-check that they hadn't forgotten anything (mostly Neytiri-the-stuffed-mountain-lion and the picture book The Wonderful Wizard of Ha's, which Becan had obligingly brought that morning, and a set of "good" formal livery for each of the cougar shifters on the off-chance that, upon returning to Findias, they would have to accompany the prince and his lady before the court). Nuada knew Dylan also had some goodbyes to make to some of the residents of the sithen - including, Dylan informed him before leaving the room, the vampire boy and the mortal man known as Neil, who might be hard to find.

The Elf prince was set to leave as soon as his lady and her household returned with their belongings and all errands had been completed. Unfortunately, the feckless moron that claimed blood-ties with Dylan didn't follow his sister out of the small private dining room. When Nuada got up to go somewhere - anywhere where the human was not - John cleared his throat.

"Can I talk to you for a sec?" The whelp asked, then added belatedly, "I mean, may I perhaps have a moment of your time, Your Highness?"

Slowly, Nuada turned to stare at the human. Where was this sudden diffidence and show of respect coming from? The Elven warrior didn't trust it. "I am busy at present. Perhaps another time." Although not likely, he added silently, turning away again to leave the room. Ruddles, Roiben's chamberlain, intercepted him.

"Your Highness, Prince Nuada, by His Dark Majesty's command I am to tell you to 'ware the corridors for the time being," the lion-like little sprite said, offering the prince a short bow.

"What?" Nuada demanded, irritation whispering under his skin. "Why?"

"Lady Ethine is within the sithen, Your Highness."

Nuada's blood went cold and fury bloomed out of the irritation. Ethine. Ethine was here? What did she want? She'd turned against Roiben more than a decade ago. Turned against him even before that. Monster, she'd called him. Murderer. Child-killer. Evil. Soulless. She was the first to call him so. At least, he amended silently as anger and something else, something icy and razor sharp, twisted his belly in knots, she was the first he had loved to call him such things. But not the last.

Liar. Deceitful, snake-tongued liar. Murderer. You killed my child! You enjoyed hurting her. You have betrayed your king. Shamed your mother's memory. Murdered your sister. Sacrificed your honor. Traitor. Coward. Murderer. Monster. Words from the past, words from memory and words from nightmare, crashing together in a whirlwind of fury and hurt in his mind. The Elven warrior shoved it all down and threw up walls of glacial ice to keep the words out.

And just in time, he thought grimly, hearing the click of heeled boots on the cold stone of the floor behind Roiben's steward.

"Don't bother, you filthy thing, I've found him easily enough," a cool voice snapped from the hall behind the chamberlain. Ruddles bared his teeth in a feral smile and offered the Elven woman in the entryway a mockingly deep bow. "I knew it. I knew the Unseelie king was twisted enough to still count you as an ally."

The Elf prince didn't notice John get up and edge out of the room. Didn't notice Ruddles do the same. He only looked into that familiar face as pale as ivory, into the eyes as cold and gleaming as iron, and inclined his head in an empty gesture of deference. He was a prince, but this was not his kingdom. She was not a princess by birth, but she was the twin sister of the king of two courts. That made her Nuada's superior in rank - barely.

"Lady Ethine, you should not speak so of your brother. He saved your life, as I recall. Paid quite dearly for it. Some might even say too dearly." After all, Roiben had nearly died defending his sister. Had nearly lost Kaye to the blades of the former Seelie queen's knights. Had nearly lost his crown and his kingdom, as well as his home.

"My brother is dead," the Seelie lady replied with venom. Ethine tossed her hair, which she'd cropped short in mourning for Roiben when he'd become king of the Night Court and refused to rejoin the Bright Court. Unbidden came the memory of how Nuada had enjoyed running his fingers through the waterfall of snow-white silk strands. He curled his fingers into a fist as the half-sídhe, half-Elven noblewoman added, "Thanks to the infection of this so-called court and due to his foolish consorting with creatures like you."

Creature. Monster. Beast. She'd hurled all those words at him. Words of sharp iron to punish him for battling humans, for defending his people. And later, when he had gone to visit Roiben during his exile, before Roiben's quest that had led to his kingship... she had hurled worse things at him. Condemned him as readily as his father and sister and so many others for the Golden Army. And he'd been surprised to learn that though she had left him long ago, Ethine still possessed the power to hurt him with the lash of her tongue.

"So who put himself between you and the sword that would have cut you down?" Nuada demanded. If he focused on defending Roiben, on defending the honor of his friend, he would not have to think about how much he truly did not need Ethine's hatred on top of everything else. "A ghost? A glamor? You call me monster, lady, yet who is the truly treacherous one? Who betrays her own kin with every word? Every breath?"

"Your father was right to cast you out," the half-Elf hissed. "You speak to me of treachery? After all your sins? With all that innocent blood on your hands? Not just a monster and a murderer, then, but a hypocrite and-"

"Okay, you'd better shut up before I forget that you're Roiben's sister and rip your hair out so I can strangle you with it," a sharp voice interrupted. Ethine jerked around to see Dylan standing between John and Ruddles, her eyes like glittering cobalt ice as she glared at the fey noblewoman. "And if it's not long enough, I'll just strangle you with my bare hands." She stepped up to the other woman. Nuada was vaguely surprised to realize they were of a height. "By the way... I hate you."

"How dare you speak to me as if-"

"As if you're insulting my esteemed lord and my truelove? Gee, how could I possibly take offense to that? And as I'm Roiben's guest, and you his kinswoman, you abuse the laws of faerie hospitality with your words. Technically, I'd be within my rights to rip your hair out as I've threatened. Or you could apologize to Prince Nuada and get your oh so splendid self out of my face."

Ethine raised silvery brows. "Apologize? To that monster? That heartless thing? I will nev-"

"Okay, that's it," Dylan muttered, and the sharp crack of her palm against Ethine's cheek echoed through the room. The faerie woman's jaw dropped and her hand flew to her abused cheek. A pale golden mark was already blooming from the human's strike. John and Nuada locked eyes for a split second of shared astonishment before turning their gazes to the perpetrator.

"Oh, I bet that smarted her," John mumbled.

His sister shot him a look while shaking her stinging hand from side to side. "Somehow, I doubt it. Ow, that hurt, ow. Ruddles, go tell His Majesty I slapped Ethine, would you please? And implied she was stupid, just so we've got everything covered. Ow. Well, now I know why Nuada dumped you, at least. Ever been cast as the Wicked Witch of the West? You'd be perfect, with your incredibly irritating hag-voice and your swamp brains and your entourage of evil flying monkeys."

"He did not 'dump' me, as you put it. I cast him away, you filthy base-born human tra-"

"Call me a tramp and I guarantee you'll have a matching handprint on your other cheek," the mortal snapped at Ethine, even as she turned and walked to where Nuada stood stock still, watching the two women. When she came to stand in front of him, she slid an arm around his neck. Though she was looking into eyes of incredulous amber, she spoke to Ethine when she said coldly, "You ditched Nuada? The legendary Silverlance? One of the best men that has ever lived? That means you're not just a decrepit hag witch, you're a stupid decrepit hag witch." And then she raised up on tiptoe and pressed her mouth against Nuada's.

Once upon a time, Wink had explained something about kissing to a young Elf prince. There were kisses taken in lust and kisses given in love. A tender brush of lips or a press of mouths where every moment burned with need. Usually kisses were given to convey something between two people. But sometimes, Wink had said, a kiss was used to convey something to everyone in a room. And that was the kind of kiss Dylan gave Nuada now. A message to Ethine first and foremost, but a message to everyone else as well - including the prince of Bethmoora.

I am his, and he is mine. We are one, we are a unit. To attack him is to attack me. I am with him. Do not mess with me, or he will hurt you. And do not mess with him, ever, or I will kick you into next week. And knowing Dylan, tacked onto that would have been, And if you have a problem with that, bite me.

It surprised the prince, that she would know how to give such a kiss. And it moved him, because he knew she was embarrassed to kiss him so publicly and she was afraid he wouldn't understand, would rebuff her.

So he kissed her back. Showed her, with every touch of his mouth, with the cradling strength of his hands as he framed her face, that he accepted what she offered. That he needed this, this support, in the face of Ethine's words. He'd been caught off-guard by the strength of his anger at Roiben's sister, at the depth of the hurt she could still somehow inflict. Dylan sensed that hurt, that rage, and accepted it, soothed it, while rejecting completely its cause. There was no possible chance, in her mind, that Ethine could be right. No possible way could Nuada be anything like what the half-Elf was saying.

But Dylan knew Nuada's fear. Knew that this woman was not the only one to use those words against him. So his mortal lady reminded him, with the strawberry-sweetness of her mouth and the warmth of her arms twined about his neck, of other words. Kinder, sweeter, softer words. My love. My prince. You're amazing. I see you. You're worth the world a million times over. I love you.

I love you.

She waited, and allowed him to pull away first. For a moment he gazed down at her, and John, who had been watching all of this like the trained observer he was, realized he'd been a complete and total idiot.

He'd thought that the Elf prince didn't care about Dylan at all. That Nuada was merely a fae playing with a mortal toy. But all he had to do was look at the guy. See the emotion in those feral eyes as Nuada caressed Dylan's face with his gaze. He didn't just love her; the royal Other Kin utterly adored her.

John hadn't seen it before, because of the blank mask the prince often wore. Well, he could see it now. See the way Nuada cradled Dylan's face as if she were made of spun glass. The way he leaned a little, protectively, sheltering her somewhat with his body. And that look on his face. John had never seen anyone look at someone that way. As if there was nothing in the world at all that could ever possibly compare to what Nuada was looking at now.

He definitely owed the prince an apology. Crap.

Nuada hazarded a sidewise glance at Ethine, and was surprised to see her staring at them not in revulsion or hatred... but envy. And he realized that he had never looked at the half-sidhe woman the way he looked at Dylan. He had only ever looked at one other woman that way - Nuala, his twin, one half of the heart that she shared with Dylan, though that heart beat in Nuada's breast. Each of them half of his world. No other had ever held his affection, his love, the way they did.

But there was something else in those silver eyes as well. Something that chilled him.

"I pity you both," Ethine said softly. "You're both cursed by what you have shown me this day. Because of that pity I will forgive your strike, mortal. Yet I warn you... this beast will be the death of everything he professes to love one day. So get far away from him. Soon. As soon as you can. Before he brings about your ruin. Before your heart's blood stains his hands."

Ice spilled down Nuada's spine at Ethine's words. This beast will be the death of everything he professes to love one day. And as if from far away, from the depths of dark memory came Eamonn's voice, choked with pain, the breath in his chest rattling as death slipped fingers of graveyard chill around the Zwezda Elf's heart. I curse you now to lose everything you hold dear. Your father, your sister, that troll you call your vassal. Your friends and allies. And your precious mortal toy. You will lose them all by your own hand. The nightmare throbbed like a rotten tooth at the back of his mind. No. No, that would not happen. He would never hurt Nuala or Dylan. Never harm Wink or his father.

But Wink was missing. Badly hurt. Possibly dead. And his father had more than likely betrayed him. What if....

Dylan's hands curved around his own, a reassuring press of fingers against his suddenly cold skin. He met her eyes. The message in them was plain: don't listen. I'm not listening. Don't you listen to her either. The trust in her gaze thawed some of the chill. With that warmth and trust bolstering him, he met Ethine's gaze once more.

After a long moment, Roiben's sister added, "I came to warn the Unseelie king that there are rumors of Bethmooran Butcher Guards in New York City. They were seen in the East Village last night. My spies also told me that they saw a silver cave troll with a bronze arm and a raven-haired siren faerie fleeing the battle that took place last night at Midnight Fest. They were pursued by more Butchers. The troll and the rhinemaiden disappeared into the goblin sewers before the guards could catch them. I thought the king - and his... ally - would wish to know."

And she swept out of the room, brushing past Roiben as he strode quickly down the corridor with Ruddles at his heels. The Unseelie king called after his twin, but she didn't stop. Firegold eyes saw Roiben's shoulders slump a fraction.

The Bethmooran prince understood the feeling all too well. But he had only a brief bit of attention to spare for his friend. A silver cave troll with a bronze arm and a raven-haired siren faerie fleeing the battle. Wink and Lorelei. They were alive. Or had been, when Ethine's spies had seen them. They disappeared into the goblin sewers. No faerie knew sewer and subway tunnels as Wink did. And the water - purified by goblin magic - was Lorelei's element. The odds of the Butchers being able to track them were next to nothing. Which meant that more than likely they were alive. Alive.

The relief that swept through him almost brought Nuada to his knees. Dylan must have sensed it, because she slid her arms around his waist and laid her cheek against his heart. "Didn't I tell you?" She asked softly, smiling up at him. "Have faith. We got some good news." She slanted a frosty look in the direction of the entryway. "Maybe I should apologize to Ethine for slapping her."

"It changes little," Nuada replied, trying to keep his hope from rising. "We do not know for certain that either of them still live. And we still must go back to Findias tonight. We dare not push my father further than we've pushed him already. We cannot afford to wait for Wink to rejoin us. Ow," he added, when she thumped her forehead against his chest, a subtle reminder not to be so pessimistic.

"But he's probably okay," she said. "That's what matters. He's okay. He got away, and so did Lorelei. Things are looking up, right? We were wrong about Wink not having escaped," she added slowly, thinking out loud. "Maybe we're wrong about other things. Maybe your father wasn't the one trying to kill us. Or maybe he was trying to send some kind of message, just hurt us, not actually kill us. I mean... maybe. Maybe things aren't as bad as we thought. And why would Balor try to hurt us? Hurt you?"

The Elven warrior knew she was only thinking out loud, and was grateful that Dylan was seriously considering alternate possibilities about the king (although the presence of the Butchers gave such suppositions flimsy legs to stand on). But the last question, of why. The question of Balor's desire to inflict that sort of pain. Nuada almost smiled. Had Dylan forgotten what Ethine had said only moments ago? Monster. Murderer. Heartless thing. Forgotten that his father and sister believed the same? Or did she just not give it credence because she didn't believe it?

"You heard what Lady Ethine said-"

"Don't listen to her," Dylan murmured, nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder. "For one thing, she's an idiot. I mean, she dumped you, didn't she? That makes her pretty stupid, no offense to Roiben. And for another thing, she may have come to Roiben's court to give news of Wink, but she came here just to see if you were around so she could hurt you. Which makes her a snaggle-toothed swampy hag-witch. So just forget her. I know you'd never do anything bad to me.

"And we are not cursed. I don't believe in curses, anyway. At least, none that the fae can command. You wanna talk about curses? Go read the Bible and the Book of Mormon. Seriously." Dylan sighed. "So... I only heard this in passing before her big mouth rid me of my common sense - you and Ethine used to date? You dated her? What were you, drunk?"

Nuada surprised himself by laughing. "That is not nice, mo duinne." Softly, merriment fading, he added, "She was kind and gentle once, like you. She loved Roiben. I thought she loved me, but... she could not accept the darkness in me."

"Horse radish," she grumbled, and his mouth twitched. "Darkness, my foot. So she called you 'monster' and cast you away. That monumental bi- never mind," she added, cutting off the expletive balanced on the tip of her tongue. The fact that his lady had come so close to calling Ethine such a name, and was flushing a charming rose from embarrassment, made the prince laugh a little more. Dylan gave him a fond look. "Okay, I'm not quite done with the kids yet.

“John came and got me," the mortal added, and surprise twinged in Nuada's chest. John? "He said you might need some help, so I booked it down here. Give me about twenty more minutes, all right? And then we'll go. Or do you want me to stay with you for a bit?"

Dark lips curved into a smile. "I am not a prized poodle in need of cosseting, remember?" He kissed her temple. "Go on. We must be on our way soon."

He watched her go. Watched her reach out and gently touch Roiben's shoulder as she came abreast of him. The king offered her a smile and patted her hand. She made an apologetic face, but the half-sidhe shook his head. Canted it in Nuada's direction. Dylan's eyebrows quirked upwards. Roiben nodded, and the mortal bobbed an awkward curtsy and moved off.

Silver eyes met Nuada's. The Elf prince and the sídhe king nodded to each other - an acknowledgment of many things, all of them involving Ethine. Then Roiben vacated the corridor as well, leaving Nuada alone... with John. Any happiness or warmth the Elven warrior might have felt due to Dylan's timely interference vanished.

"It is unwise to be in my company, whelp," Nuada growled when he caught the human watching him. So John had been the one to fetch Dylan. It meant nothing.

John sighed. "Look, I have something to say to you, Your Highness. It's gonna be hard for me, so I'm asking for your patience. Please," he added when Nuada blinked at him, momentarily surprised. His amazement only grew when the mortal said, "I owe you an apology. A big one. I accused you of... a lot of bad things. Letting those monsters...." John clenched his fists for a moment, then relaxed them. "Letting Dylan get hurt. Not caring. The worst one, I think for you, was when I said you didn't care about my sister. That you got off on hurting her.

"I... I know better now. I know it's not true. I saw how you looked at her just now. I've wanted that for her ever since she got out of the institution. I know you'd never hurt her on purpose. Whatever happened between you two during that fight is your business, I guess. She says it's resolved, and here you are, so everything's cool, right? I'm sorry for everything I said. I thought I knew what was going on, and I didn't. If you'd seen her face that day, maybe you would... well, it doesn't matter, I guess. It's all fixed. So I guess... not that you need my blessing or whatever, but if it means anything, if I had to choose between you and anyone else being with Dylan, I'd pick you, because I know you love her."

There was a long moment of silence, where John, clearly uncomfortable with making such heartfelt speeches, dropped his gaze to the boots provided by the Unseelie court. Nuada could only stare at him. This human who had so clearly expressed his hatred not even a month ago, now claimed to prefer Nuada over any other suitor Dylan might attract? I saw how you looked at her just now. He'd seen something, the prince realized. During that kiss Dylan had given him, her twin had seen something that had made him realize just how precious his sister was to the Elven warrior. And that made the prince wonder....

"You said if I'd seen her face that day," Nuada said softly. John frowned, nodded. "Come here." Hesitantly, the human obeyed. Nuada extended his arm. "Give me your hand." Gray-blue eyes flicked to the Elf's face. Narrowed in thought. Then the mortal nodded and gave the prince his hand. Bracing for the contact, the Elf prince touched John's mind. The memory of Dylan when John had gone to see her swam before Nuada's eyes. The Elf prince barely suppressed his flinch.

In the memory, she curled up on her bed, crying without a sound, while John stroked her hair. Neither twin spoke. Her feet were bare. No silly socks. Her face was pale despite the tears. Her beautiful eyes were red-rimmed and wet. The misery on her face sent anguish spiraling through Nuada like shards of ice. He'd seen Dylan look that way only twice before - during the soul-purging, when he'd helped lance the festering heart-wounds... and the night before, when he'd shouted at her. Clutched to Dylan's chest, Nuada saw, was a very old ragdoll made of what looked like cheap linen and tied into a clumsy doll shape with frayed blue threads.

One of Dylan's two favorite dolls from when she was a kid, John supplied. She made it in the institution. Kept it hidden under her bed. The kids weren't allowed to have toys. She only pulls it out when things are really bad. Normally she keeps it in a box in the closet so it won't fall apart.

Nuada carefully extricated himself from the mental contact. He understood now. Understood perfectly. If anyone had put that look on Dylan's face - or Nuala's - Nuada would have hunted them down and extracted payment a thousandfold for whatever pain they'd put her through. Could he truly, honorably blame John for trying to do the same? Unfortunately, no.

"You have my thanks," Nuada muttered, turning away. "For showing me this." For showing him the true depth of his transgressions against Dylan.

"Um... you gonna be okay, Your Highness?"

Firegold eyes sliced to John's face for a moment, searching for mockery or deceit. Nuada wasn't entirely sure if he was disappointed or merely surprised when he found neither. There was only sincere concern. How bizarre. "I am well enough." He paused. Chewed on the words for a minute. They tasted sour on his tongue, but he forced them out anyway. "Your concern is... appreciated."

John cocked his head. Smiled. Nuada wasn't altogether sure he liked that smile. Then Dylan's twin asked, "So does this make us best buddies? Because Dylan's birthday is coming up, and that would make her really happy."

Nuada blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"Come on, admit it - I'm not so bad. I'm not as cute as Dylan, I'll admit. You know, being a guy and all. Unless there's something you haven't told her." Seeing those feral eyes narrow, John held up his hands and added, "Joking. Seriously, just joking. Tryin' to be friendly." After a moment of silence, the mortal said, "Anyway, now that this has gotten awkward - do you feel awkward? Because I totally feel awkward - I'm gonna go now. Although I'm still wondering... are you going to start liking me now? It kinda hurts my feelings when I see that smoldering hate in your eyes and know how much you wanna eviscerate me."

Coolly, swallowing back the tickle in his throat - was that... a laugh? Impossible! - the Elven warrior replied, "I make no promises about not hating you. I am a prince, not a miracle worker."

John smirked. "Just remember, Your Highness, Dylan's my twin and you love her, which means you have to like me. Even if it's just an itsy-witsy little bit deep down where you'd rather drop dead than admit it exists. It's okay. Your secret's safe with me."

"Whelp-"

"Bye," the human chirped, limping a little as he made his escape. Nuada glared after him, refusing to admit that maybe, just maybe, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Do you feel awkward? Because I totally feel awkward. How often had Dylan said that to him? The whelp just might have been right about the fact that Dylan and her brother had more in common with each other than Nuada had first supposed.

.

Final goodbyes took a little time. Dylan snuggled against her twin, who every so often would murmur, "Don't forget to call me, okay? Or at least write. So I know you're safe."

When that was over with, Lady Kaye and the human girl, Val, hugged Dylan and talked about meeting up and having another "girls' day" when the envoy from the Seelie and Unseelie Courts came to Bethmoora for the Midwinter festivities. Nuada hoped they didn't. Not that he begrudged his lady the time spent with her friends. He was merely wary of the results, especially since just today he'd nearly swallowed his tongue when he'd caught sight of her at supper.

Kaye pulled something out of the pocket of her jeans and handed it to Dylan. "Speaking of calling, I've got something for you." In Dylan's palm was a small blue stone carved into a bird. A slim cord looped through one wing. When the light hit the cord, it shimmered with glimmers of rainbows. "This is a stone of Lāzhward - a lapis lazuli. It's a charm for your phone. I know you've got a spot for a keychain on your protection case. Hook this on and your phone will work in Faerie."

Dylan's mouth dropped open. "You figured out how to make my phone work in Faerie?"

"Yep!" Val grinned. "Ravus's idea, although we had to get help from some guy named Dean Nails down at the Rustworks. I think he's half-Erlkin or something. Good with machinery. Anyway, this charm means your phone works in Faerie the same way it works in the mortal realm. Except it doesn't drain your battery like, at all. I think."

The mortal threw her arms around Val and Kaye. "You guys are the best ever! Thank you!"

"The best ever, huh?" Val echoed, grinning. "Are we better than His Highness?"

"Don't push your luck," Dylan said. "Unless you kiss better than he does, which is impossible."

Val made a face. "Ew." Kaye just laughed.

Standing slightly apart from the adults were the three ewah. Tsu's'di stood with Lena. The hamadryad and the cougar shifter were quietly discussing how to keep in touch while the youth was serving as Dylan's guard in Findias. 'Sa'ti and A'du were hugging and being hugged by Bean and Kate, and making plans for playing together when the American sidhe envoy came to Bethmoora (if the prince, the a'ge'lv, Kaye, and the king said it was okay).

Trying to ignore the three women, the three children, and the human male that had managed to confuse him earlier, Nuada turned to Roiben. The king and the prince gripped each other's forearms in the way of warriors. "You have Our sincerest thanks, King Darktithe, for your hospitality and for the services you have rendered Us, Our lady, and her household. We also thank you for the aid you have offered in retrieving Our vassal. If you ever have a need, and We are able, call on Us and We will come to your aid."

"We have been friends a long time, Prince Silverlance. There is no thanks necessary. But We will remember that it, and your aid, were offered." Then Roiben smiled, and glanced at Dylan. She was smiling at whatever Kaye had just said. "You're lucky to have her," the king added softly.

Nuada let his gaze linger for a moment on Dylan's face as she said something to Val. "I know it." Quietly, almost as if to himself, he repeated, "I know it." And like a phantom haunt out of the darkness, he saw for a moment his mortal lady lying bloodied and still amidst the ash and smoke of ruin. Looking back into Roiben's eyes like silver coins, he asked, "How do I protect her, Roiben? How do I become strong enough, powerful enough to keep her safe?"

The king's expression was unreadable, but his emotion was evident as he raked a hand through the salt-whiteness of his long hair. "The more powerful you become, the more others will find ways to master you. They will do it through those you love and those you hate; they will find the bit and the bridle that fits your mouth and makes you yield. The only way to truly break free of such chains is to make them yield first. Or be dead. No one can yet master the dead." The half-Elf clasped his friend's shoulder. "I am sorry, Nuada, but there is no way to truly keep Dylan safe."

"I see." It would be worse, then, when he returned to Findias and took up his duties as prince, as he would have to do. Worse still when he became king some time in the far, far distant future. "Should I... should I cut ties with her, then? Would that perhaps do it?"

Roiben shook his head. "I tried that with Kaye, years ago. It only put her in more danger. The best you can do is be honest with her about what dangers there are. Are you willing to defend her? Stand as her sword and her shield?"

Nuada watched Dylan hoist a bouncing 'Sa'ti onto her hip as she continued to speak with Kaye and Val and John. The motion was smooth and effortless, and the prince was suddenly reminded of his own mother doing the same to him, to Nuala, when they were small. Dylan held the cougar girl easily. Every so often she would look down and say something, her face soft with mother love, and 'Sa'ti would laugh. "I would stand with her, for her, until the end of all things," he whispered. "Until the stars fell to earth. I would defend her till my last drop of blood and my dying breath."

"Then you are what will keep her safe, Silverlance. Your love for her. You will make it be enough."

Dark lips curved in a tired smile. "Thank you, Darktithe. Remember what I said - if you have need of me, send word, and I will come."

Eventually the time came for the prince and his lady to depart. Dylan hustled the children into the Chariot of Annwn, and Nuada bid goodbye to Roiben's lady in standard princely fashion. The Bethmooran prince and the Unseelie king clasped each other's hands in the warrior's way one more time. Then, taking Dylan's hand in his, Nuada helped her step into the carriage before following after her.

Right as the carriage pulled away, before it could slip into the otherworldly place between realms where it traveled like a shadow and a thought, Dylan thought she saw the skeletal trees of the park rustling with the dark wings of dozens upon dozens of nocs. Their black eyes glinted with hints of electric violet and midnight purple sheened their feathers in the cold light of the full moon. Then the world blurred against the cool window glass and there was nothing more to be seen. Dylan pressed close to Nuada, soaking in the warmth of him, and fought back a shiver.

.

Nuala stared down at her hands, which lay palm-up in her lap. The faint lines of barely-healed scar tissue held the faintest pearlescent sheen. These marks would fade swiftly enough. Had her brother been hurt? Not badly, then, or she would have felt more pain. Blood would have beaded along the edges of the needle-thin cuts and spilled over, instead of merely glinting in the candlelight the previous night.

The Elven princess flexed her slender fingers. Curled them into loose half-fists. What had happened last night to her twin? Was he all right? How had he come to be wounded? Why had he sounded so terrified when his mind-touch had reached out from the darkness, stretching toward her with all the desperation of a drowning man?

Brother, are you safe? Why is there this ache in my chest, this weight of grief tempered by hope?

A burst of frantic babbling snatched her attention from her prodigal brother. Glancing up, she saw the chamberlain and one of the Butcher Guards - though from which company, she did not know; Nuada would have known - hurrying down the garden pathway toward her.

"Princess!" The chamberlain cried the moment he caught her eye. "Thank goodness you are safe!"

Her first thought was startling in its clarity. Bres. Something had happened to the prince who had been so sweetly paying court to her over the last month. Someone had hurt him. He was the crown prince of his kingdom, having been forced to eliminate his other siblings in order to stay alive. But he had cousins, didn't he? Children of his dead aunts or uncles who had survived the deaths of the previous generation set in motion by King Elatha? Did Fomori custom dictate that these distant kin could take the throne if they slew the Elf prince?

Nuala's heart thumped hard against her breastbone as she rose to her feet. "What is it?" She demanded, reaching out to the chamberlain as he drew near. The steward fae clasped her hands in his long, spindly fingers. "Chamberlain, what has happened?"

"His Highness is returning," the steward replied in a quavering voice. "Crown Prince Nuada is coming back to Bethmoora!"

The ice of a sudden chill wind knifed through the princess's dark jade gown, raising goose flesh on her moon-pale skin. In the branches of one of the leafless black oaks above Nuala's head, a raven croaked. Instinctively the princess flinched from the sound. Moonlight caught gleams of midnight violet on the raven's feathers. One gimlet eye glared down at her. A chill ghosted up her spine.

Nuala tore her gaze from the dark-feathered bird and focused on the chamberlain. "But why would you think me unsafe simply because my brother returns to the castle?" Did this have anything to do with Nuada's almost-frantic mind-call the night before?

Now the chamberlain's hands trembled, clasped around hers. His xanthous face paled as he bowed his head and whispered, "Your Highness... this past night, Prince Nuada's vassal was... in an altercation with the royal guards."

Golden eyes narrowed. "What sort of 'altercation,' Chamberlain?"

The king's steward hunched his narrow shoulders and lowered his head further. "He nearly slew them all, Your Highness. Common fae were killed in the battle as well. A few managed to escape the confrontation with their lives. The king sent a man to question them just this evening when the survivors returned. But the Butchers that had survived the slaughter had been... had been...."

"What?" She asked. The princess knew the faerie steward was not a hard man. He abhorred violence, and had always detested the sight of even a little blood. Only his friendship with Nuala's father - the two had been bosom companions since boyhood - and his knack for keeping the court and the king's household in order had landed him the position of chamberlain. The steward paled further. Nuala said, putting every ounce of regality in her voice, "Tell me."

"They were butchered in their room in the barracks, Your Highness," the guard said. "Captain Oisin, Lieutenant Padraig and the rest of the surviving men. We told the king they looked as if wild animals had been at them. We found them because who- or whatever killed them left the barracks door open. The crows had been at them already so we could not tell much. The king ordered us to find you at once and make sure that whatever had done this had not come after you, milady."

"This is Loén, Highness. He will escort you to your sitting room. His Highness Prince Bres the Ladies Polunochnaya and Na'ko'ma are waiting for you there. They will stay with you until we've searched the castle grounds."

"But what of my brother?" Nuala glanced from the guard to the chamberlain. "What has he to do with any of this?"

The chamberlain cringed a little, but replied softly, "The king believes... the king suspects," he amended, "that His Highness ordered Wink to attack the Butchers and then arranged for the deaths of the survivors, Princess. There has been some... some talk that the prince means to go to war against His Majesty."

Nuala jerked back from both men. "No," she said sharply. The raven in the branches overhead let out a strident squawk. "You forget your place, Chamberlain. My brother would never betray his country and his king as you say. I know this to be true. As does my father," the princess added coldly. "Now, escort me, Guardsman Loén."

In her sitting room, she found Bres reclining on one of her sofas. Nuala's two ladies-in-waiting, Polunochnaya and Na'ko'ma, sat on her other sofa. Cat-slitted silver eyes and eyes of bright jewel-like yellow flicked to the princess.

"Nuala, what's happening?" 'Ko asked, her feathers ruffling in agitation. "One of the guards came to 'Naya and me as we were coming to your room and said we had to stay here until we were told we could leave. What's happened?"

The Elf princess glanced at her two oldest friends, then to the prince who had done his best to romance her over the last weeks. Bres sat forward, propping his elbows on his knees. The firelight turned his wavy hair to burnished gold. His smile was gentle when he held out his leather-gloved hand to her. His sapphire blue eyes were kind. "Having a rough day, Princess?"

Nuala went and sank onto the sofa cushion beside him and, though it probably shocked 'Ko, laid her head on Bres' shoulder. "They think there is a danger in the castle. Once the guards have searched, they will tell us, but they want me to stay where it is safe until all is clear."

"There is something else," Bres murmured. He took her hand, and the cool touch of his kid-leather glove eased some of the ice that had frosted her heart the moment the chamberlain had informed her of her father's suspicions. The stroke of his thumb across her knuckles sent a whisper of something shivery and utterly delightful sparking beneath her skin. "What is it, Nuala?"

"Nuada has come back, hasn't he?"

The princess glanced at 'Naya, whose lightly-painted lips glittered like the first frost of winter as they curved into a smile. Her silver eyes gleamed with something that might have been happiness. Oh, dear. Surely her lady-in-waiting did not still hold affection for Nuala's twin. The prince had paid 'Naya some attention - Nuala was not sure how much, exactly, but surely not too much - centuries ago, before the wars. But that had been such a long time ago. Surely....

"Silverlance is coming back?" Bres cried, a smile blooming on his handsome face through the golden beard. "That is splendid news. He is friend to me and-"

"It's the king," 'Naya said briskly, as if it were of little consequence. "Everyone knows King Balor and Nuada do not get along. And with the human girl he's currently dallying with a bone of contention between them, things are bound to get... interesting. I expect about as much excitement there as with a dog fight."

"Polunochnaya!" The princess cried, pulling away from Bres to glare at her friend. "Nuada is not dallying with the girl. He is courting her in earnest. From all appearances, they are very much in love. And you should know better than to speak of my father or my brother in such a manner."

The Zwezdan Elf inclined her head toward her princess. "My apologies, milady. You are absolutely right. I do know better. Forgive me." And 'Naya smiled.

.

Sometime during the journey, 'Sa'ti and A'du had curled up - the little girl on Nuada's right, the little boy on Dylan's left - had fallen asleep against the prince and his lady. At Dylan's silent prompting through their linked hands, Nuada had even laid an arm lightly 'round the cougar girl's shoulders as she'd drifted off. Tsu's'di, still stiff from the healing, had curled up in cougar-form - the first time his mistress had seen an ewah fully-shifted. The ewah youth cat-napped on the opposite seat. Dylan had her head on Nuada's shoulder. He in turn had laid his head atop hers. Their fingers were tangled together against the prince's thigh.

Through their link, he could feel how tired his lady was. Her mind was still a bit fragile from the soul-purging. Nuada had laid the groundwork for a true healing of her soul-wounds, but it would take time. Something they did not have in any sort of abundance. He could also feel her nervousness, like the charge before a thunderstorm.

You are afraid, the Elven warrior murmured, his voice gentle in her mind. You still fear to return. You fear my father.

Her laugh was soft and self-deprecating. Nuada, I'm afraid of everything in Faerie, since anyone here could blink at me and I'd explode in a shower of pixie dust. Did you miss the memo? I am very much aware that nearly anything in Faerie can do horrible things to me as easily as I draw breath. So yeah, I'm a little freaked out.

You surely do not think I would allow you to come to harm?

I'm more worried about me not being able to prevent you from coming to harm, she said. The hand that had been smoothing along A'du'la'di's tufty mane went to the medallion at her throat. I'm scared for you. Scared of losing you. Of doing something that will hurt you.

Nuada pressed his lips to the top of her head. Everything will be well, mo duinne. I promise you. Your plan will work, and I have to say I am looking forward to it.

She laughed aloud; she couldn't help it. I love you, she said. You know that, right? And I'm lucky to have you.

No. It is I who am lucky to have you at my side, milady. He kissed the crown of her head once more, and tried to suppress the increasing dread slowly spreading through his stomach and chest. Dylan snuggled against him and breathed a soft sigh against the side of his neck.

When the carriage came to a halt in front of the Royal Stables, he knew they were finally back. He let Dylan gently rouse the children while he woke Tsu's'di - an Elven warrior was better equipped to deal with a sleep-grouched cougar than a mortal healer.

Before getting out of the Chariot, Dylan managed to somewhat tame A'du's mane, while Tsu's'di smoothed down 'Sa'ti's bangs. The mortal straightened the ewah youth's collar, as well. Finally the human tied back her own hair with a length of black ribbon she'd pulled out of the black leather satchel Becan had brought for her, the one that held her scriptures and other personal items.

"How do we look?" Dylan asked him, gesturing to herself and the children. Nuada smiled.

"Very fine," he said. "Come on."

Nuada stepped down first and reached up to help Dylan. Her slim hand in his, her fingers half-curled around his own, and the warmth of her skin suddenly seemed to be the only things standing between him and utter ruin. She alighted from the carriage step. Took a deep breath. Smiled at him. He raised her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss across her fingers. For just a split second his lady almost looked as if she might cry.

"Can we get down now?" A'du called plaintively from the door.

"I smell horsies!" 'Sa'ti piped up from behind her brothers. "Can we look at the horsies?"

Once everyone was out of the Chariot - Becan and Brighid had been back and forth all the day, transferring Dylan and the children's necessary belongings to Findias, so there was no luggage - Nuada took Dylan's arm. She pressed close to him. 'Sa'ti and A'du, who felt some of the tension off the adults, clasped hands and looked around as the group began to move toward the main entrance. Tsu's'di prowled behind all five, keeping his eyes open and his ears pricked, every sense on alert for possible attack despite the residual aches in his body.

Nuada had arranged for everything before leaving Roiben's sithen. Once out of the stables, there would be two Butcher Guards and a herald waiting to escort them to the king's study. A servant would escort the three ewah to Dylan's suite, to their own room attached to her suite. As soon as the audience with the king was over, Dylan would put the children to bed and Nuada would arrive in time to hear the bedtime story.

That was how it should have gone.

Instead, once out of the stables, at the head of the path leading to the main part of the castle, waited a dozen Butchers armed with their iron swords that made Nuada's teeth ache, growling as the chamberlain stepped from between their ranks and came a pace nearer the prince, his lady, and their young servants.

"Chamberlain," Nuada said coldly. Was it his imagination, or did the faerie steward's tiny black eyes gleam just a little? "What business have you with me this night?"

"Not my business, Your Highness," the steward replied, all politeness. "I bear a message from His Majesty the king. He very much wishes to speak with you about the incident involving your vassal and the massacre of nearly an entire company of royal guards.

"And he bade me say that these guards are to place you under arrest for treason if you refuse, and will drag you before him, willing or no."