Doyle’s head turned, ever so slightly, neck and shoulders so tight it looked painful. His deep voice held anger like it was all he could do to contain it. “Are you saying that none of you will obey my orders?”

“Of course we will,” Galen said, “but Merry is supposed to lead not just us, but all our people. How can we ignore her when she demands something from us?”

Sholto got up from where he was kneeling by Bryluen. He left her in Royal’s arms. The demi-fey looked frightened and didn’t try to hide it. Sholto joined the other sidhe in the middle of the room.

“If you were the only king that Goddess and faerie had crowned for Merry, then we would obey you, Darkness, but you are one of many kings.”

Doyle turned to face the other man. “I have not forgotten that she was crowned to be queen to your king, Sholto.”

Sholto raised his arm and pushed back the sleeve just enough to show the beginnings of the tattoo that he and I shared. It had been real rose vines that night, and had pierced both our arms, entwining like the rope, or thread, that was used for a regular handfasting, but this “rope” had set thorns into our flesh and wedded our hands together more completely than any mere ceremony could have, and the marks of those vines and roses were painted on our arms.

“We were handfasted by Goddess and faerie,” Sholto said.

“And I have no such mark; you have pointed that out more than once over these months,” Doyle said.

That was news to me. Sholto was the only man to whom Goddess had personally handfasted me, but She had crowned Doyle and me as King and Queen of the Unseelie Court.

“Maybe the reason Goddess bound Merry to you was that you were the only one who is king in his own right,” Galen said.

The two men looked at him, as if he’d interrupted a longstanding disagreement. It isn’t always wise to get in the middle of two people who are fighting.

Galen smiled at them and shifted the baby in his arms, just enough to remind them the baby was there. I didn’t think the movement was accidental; Galen understood that the baby was a free pass from any violence. He was right, but I hoped he didn’t push the idea too far, because he wouldn’t be holding a baby forever, and both Sholto and Doyle had long memories.

“Merry had to become your queen; the rest of us had to become her kings.”

“Why should that matter?” Sholto said.

“Merry had to marry you to become your queen; for the rest of us, we had to father a child to become Merry’s kings, or princes. I think for the Unseelie Court, the Goddess and Consort already chose the king.”

“I gave up my crown to save Frost,” Doyle said.

“Barinthus still hasn’t forgiven you, or Merry, for that,” Galen said, with a smile.

“He is a Kingmaker, or a Queenmaker,” Sholto said. “The two of you gave up what Barinthus had worked for decades to accomplish.”

“He dreamed of putting my father on the throne, not me, and certainly not Doyle,” I said.

“True,” Sholto said.

“Very true,” Doyle said.

“I don’t believe we would all have lived to see the babies born,” Rhys said.

“Too many enemies still left in the darkling court,” Doyle agreed.

“Or perhaps the Goddess and God would have protected you,” Royal said.

We all looked at the delicate figure still tucked into the chair with a baby who might, or might not, be his daughter.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“If the Goddess and God crowned the two of you, maybe they would have worked to keep you safe on the throne?”

I thought about it. “Are you saying we needed to have faith, little one?” Doyle asked.

“You still talk as if the power of the Goddess has not returned to bless us all with Her Grace, but she has moved among us these last months even here outside faerie, in the far Western Lands.”

I said, “The Goddess told me that if the fey weren’t willing to accept Her blessings, then I should take them out among the humans and see if they appreciated them more.”

“Humans are always impressed with magic,” Sholto said.

“But it’s not magic,” I said. “It’s miracles.”

“Aren’t miracles just a type of magic?” he asked.

I thought about that, and finally said, “I’m not sure, perhaps.”

“What did the queen say when you told her not to come?” I asked.

Doyle met my eyes, but his face was unreadable, as closed and mysterious as he had ever been, but now I understood what the look meant. He was hiding something from me, protecting me, he thought. I saw it as not sharing information that I needed.

“What makes you think I have spoken to the queen?”

“Who else had a chance of persuading her to stay away but the Queen’s Darkness?”

“I am no longer her Darkness, but yours.”

“Then tell me what she said, and what she wants.”

“She wants to see her brother’s grandchildren.”

“You’ve told me that she’s still torturing random people at court,” I said.

“She was the most composed I have seen her since this last madness gripped her.”

“And how composed was that?” Rhys asked, and by tone and expression he showed that he didn’t believe it would be composed enough.

“She seemed her old self, before Cel’s death and our giving up the throne drove her mad.”