Seduced by Moonlight (Page 4)

I sat on the edge of the bed with Kitto in my lap, his legs straddling my body as if I were the boy and he the girl. His shorts were stretched tight across the firm roundness of his buttocks, and my hands cupped that firm flesh through the cloth. I held him in my lap while my mouth explored his face, his neck, his shoulders. I bit gently at his shoulder, and he shuddered against me. Even through the cloth, I felt him grow firm. I kept one hand on his buttock, to keep him from falling, but the other I trailed up his back. I played on the rainbow scales on his back and found the line of naked skin that traced up his spine. I caressed a fingertip up that long, smooth line of skin, and it brought his breath shivering, flung back his head, put his face up to mine with his eyes closed and his lips half parted. But still he did not shine.

He was beautiful as he sat in my lap, but there was only the magic of bare skin and delighted flesh. He did not glow with power.

“Make him glow, make him glow!” Creeda cried, as if she had waited as long as she could to exclaim.

At the sound of her voice, Kitto wilted, both with the slump of his shoulders and the lowering of his head, and the press of him against my stomach lessened. It was as if just the sound of her voice made him remember unpleasant things. The goblins do not see marriage vows the way we do, and both partners are allowed certain freedoms. Whatever child results from whatever liaison is raised by the married couple as their own. There's no shame or screams of being cuckold. Maybe that's why there's no hereditary monarchy. But whatever the custom, I hadn't known that Kitto had ever been Creeda's pet.

Kurag said, “Hush, Creeda.” But the damage was done.

Kitto wrapped his legs around my waist like a child clinging for comfort. He hugged himself to me and buried his face against my shoulder.

I looked up at Kurag. “I didn't know your queen knew Kitto that well.”

“She didn't.”

I patted Kitto's back and wasn't sure I believed him, but I couldn't think of a good reason for him to lie. “Then I don't understand his level of fear around her.”

“Creeda, like most of our women, is eager to try a goblin who is also sidhe. He will have his choice of females at the banquet.” Kurag didn't look particularly happy about it, and I wasn't exactly sure why, but it didn't matter, not really.

“Goblins will rape an enemy, or a prisoner, but they do not rape each other,” I said.

Kurag looked past me to Rhys. “Your pale prince knows just what we do to prisoners.” He gave an ill-tempered leer, as if he was happy to be back on ground he enjoyed. He liked teasing Rhys.

Rhys moved on the bed behind me. He'd been very still during the scene with Kitto. “I know I was a fool, Kurag. The princess has told me that I could have saved myself a great deal of pain, if I'd known what to ask for.”

Kurag's leer faded into a frown. “A sidhe admitting he is a fool, it's a miracle.”

I glanced back just enough to catch Rhys's nod. “We are an arrogant race, but some of us can learn from our mistakes.”

“And what have you learned, pale prince?”

“That before we arrive for any banquet at your court we'll be very clear on what can happen to us, and what can't. To all of us, including Kitto.”

“Now, that's arrogant,” Kurag said. “No sidhe can deny the goblins access to another goblin.”

I added, “If Kitto doesn't want to be with the women, then he can say no.”

“I will have a taste of him,” Creeda said.

“Not if he says no,” I said.

“I will have him,” she said, leaning toward the glass.

Kitto cringed in against me. “Control your queen, Kurag,” I said.

“Why, she's one of hundreds who feel the same, Merry.”

I held Kitto closer. “He might not survive the attentions of hundreds of goblinesses.”

Kurag shrugged. “We're immortal. We heal.”

I shook my head, but it was Rhys who answered. “No, we won't give Kitto over to that.”

“He is mine,” Kurag said, that grumbling roar trickling into his voice. “I have given him to Merry, but he is still mine. I am his king, and I say what will and what won't happen to him.”

“Kurag,” I said, and when those nearly orange eyes were upon me, I continued. “I know your laws. You do not rape your own people, not unless they have broken some law and you have deemed it fit punishment for the crime.”

“There is one exception to the rule, Merry.”

I must have looked as puzzled as I felt. “I know of no exception to this rule.” Silently, I thought, Except that to refuse your ruler is a dangerous thing.

“I thought your father made sure you were versed in our ways.”

“So did I,” I said, “but you do not force yourself on each other; there's no need. There is always some willing partner close at hand.”

“But if one of us sells his body for safety and shelter, then he gives up the right to refuse his body to anyone. Only his protector can dictate who can touch him, and who cannot.”

I was still frowning.

Kurag sighed. “Merry, did you not wonder how I was so sure Kitto would go with you, and do what you wanted?”

I thought about that, then answered, “No, if our queen had bid one of her guard go with me and do what I wanted, he'd have done it. It's not our law, but it's unhealthy to refuse the queen. I assumed that it was the same with your people.”

“I gave you Kitto because I knew his protector had grown tired of him. We are a hard people, Merry, but I had no desire to watch Kitto be torn apart if he could not find someone to take him in. A good king watches over all his people.”

I nodded. Kurag was crude, lecherous, ruled by his temper at times, but no one had ever accused him of not tending his people, all his people. It was one of the reasons that he'd never faced a serious challenge to his kingship. He was hard, but fair. Half his people feared him, and the other half loved him, because he kept them safe.

“I didn't know that any goblin needed that kind of protection,” I said. Kitto went very still against me, and I could almost smell his fear. Fear of what I'd think of him now.

“The fate of a half-sidhe among us is not pretty, Merry. Most die young before they come into that famed sidhe magic. But there are many among us who long to have a sidhe in our bed. A lot of your half-breeds end up trading their flesh for safety.”

He was talking about prostitution, a concept unheard of among the fey, at least in faerie itself. Outside faerie, well, an exile has to make a living, and there were a few who made it that way. But even then, it was more a way to make the fey's usual joys pay off. We are a traditionally lusty lot, and sex is sex to some of us. No judgment, just truth. But the goblins did not even have a word for prostitute. A more alien concept for their society would have been hard to come by.

“But there is always sex among the goblins. Don't most goblins think that one sexual partner is much like another?”

Kurag shrugged. “All goblins are voracious lovers, Merry, but it is the addition of more tender meat to ours that has given rise to trullups. Those who cannot protect themselves, and have no other skills to offer. They are not craftsmen; they do not make anything, or sell anything. They have only one skill, so we allow them to trade that skill for what they need.” He didn't look happy about it, as if it somehow offended him, offended his idea of how the world should run.

“We would have killed such weaklings, but once they found shelter with someone who was strong enough to keep them safe, we had to let it bide.”

“There can't be many among you like this,” I said.

“No, but almost all of them are sidhe-sided.” He glanced off to the side of the mirror. “Though not all sidhe-sided are weak.” He made a motion, and two men stepped into view of the mirror. At first glance I would have taken them for sidhe, Seelie sidhe. They were both tall, slender, with long yellow hair, and handsome the way that the sidhe sometimes are, with full, generous mouths and a line from brow to cheek to chin that reminded me of Frost. Their skin was that delicate gold the Seelie Court calls sun-kissed. It's rare among them, unheard of among us. But a second glance and you saw the eyes, too large for the face, oblong like Kitto's, and a solid color that gave no white to the eye, only a dark round of pupil lost in a sea of green for one, and red for the other. The green was the color of summer grass. The red was the color of holly berries in deep winter. They were bulkier than sidhe, too, as if they'd done more weight lifting, or the goblin genetics allowed them to simply carry a little more muscle mass.

“This is Holly and this is Ash. Twins left at our doorstep by some Seelie woman after the last great war. They are feared among us.” For the King of the Goblins to say this in an introduction was the highest of praise for a goblin warrior  – and something of a warning for us, I think.

The one with the red eyes glared at us. The one with the green had a much more neutral look to him, as if he was still deciding whether to hate us. His brother seemed to have already made up his mind.

“Greetings, Holly and Ash, one of the first among Kurag's warriors,” I said.

The green-eyed one answered, “Greetings, Meredith, Princess of the Sidhe, wielder of the hand of flesh. I am Ash.” His voice was pleasantly neutral. He gave a small bow as he spoke.

His brother turned to him and looked as if he'd strike him. “Do not bow to her. She is nothing to us. Not queen, not princess, nothing.”

Kurag was out of his chair and nearly on top of Holly before he could react. Holly actually put his hand on the knife at his belt, then hesitated. If he drew the blade, then Kurag could take it as mortal insult, and the fight would be to the death. Once he drew the blade, it was Kurag's choice. I had a second to see the confusion on his face, then Kurag's hand was a blur, and the younger goblin was on the floor near the chair. Blood flashed in the light like an odd crimson jewel on his golden skin. The blood was almost the same color as his eyes.

“I am king here, Holly, and until you are goblin enough to say different, my word is law.”

Holly smeared the blood from his chin onto his sleeve and spoke, still sitting on the ground. “We are not trullups. We have done nothing by our laws that enables you to send us to her bed, to anyone's bed. We need no protectors for our flesh.” He coughed and spat blood on the floor. It was an insult among the goblins, wasting blood. He should have drunk it. “We have proven ourselves goblins first, and sidhe not at all, yet you would trade us away to this pale sidhe. We have done nothing to deserve this.”

Kurag moved forward in a slow-motion stalk, as if every muscle fought against every other muscle. He wanted to tear Holly apart; it was plain on his face. We watched him try to master his rage.

Ash made a small movement. I wasn't sure what he'd done, but it attracted the eye. The knife at his belt was still sheathed, but he'd done something.

It was Doyle who called, “Kurag, this will be difficult enough without reluctant bed partners.”

Kurag looked up at us. “They are too young, Darkness, they do not remember what we were. If Holly understood what we once were, what we could be again, he would go eagerly.”

“Are most of your half-sidhes from the last great war?”

Kurag nodded. “Most of the old ones are dead. Sidhe-sides didn't last long among us until we made them trullups.”

“We have never been trulls,” Holly said.

Ash stood almost smiling at Kurag's back, but one of his hands was hidden against the side of his body. Creeda was behind the throne, and I caught the flash of a blade held in her many hands, but not the hands on the side facing Ash. Had he drawn a blade? Whatever he'd done, Creeda didn't like it. Truthfully, neither did I.

“Enough of this, Kurag,” I said. “I will not force myself on anyone. If Holly does not want to be sidhe, then so be it.”

“But I want to be sidhe,” Ash said in that easy voice that matched the slight smile, and left his green eyes empty and pleasant. He was a born politician, was Ash. His smile widened, but was somehow sad. “My brother and I have never disagreed on anything until this. But I will be sidhe, and Holly will, too.”

Creeda was almost close enough to be sure of what he held out of sight. He moved his hand into view. I saw Creeda tense. I felt Doyle and Rhys tense around me. Ash's hand was empty. But I would have bet almost anything that it hadn't been a second ago.

My voice was a little breathy as I asked, “Come and be sidhe then, Ash. Why drag your brother if he is unwilling?”

“Because I will it so,” Ash said, and the pleasantness was replaced by an arrogance that you saw only on the face of a sidhe. Oh, yes, Ash was one of ours. He survived among the goblins, but he was ours.

Holly was on his feet now, keeping the big wooden chair halfway between Kurag and himself. He had his back to us, so I couldn't see his face, but I heard his voice, something close to fear or some other harsh emotion I couldn't name. “Brother, do not do this to us. We do not need the shining ones. We are goblin, and that is better.”

Ash shook his head. “We have survived together, Holly, and we will continue to survive together. I have heard the tales of our storytellers. I have glimpsed what once we were, and you and I will bring those glory days back to the goblins.” He walked toward his brother, walking around Creeda as if she weren't there. She hissed at him as he strode past. The blade in her hand flashed silver but she put it away, in a sheath that was lost to sight among her nest of arms.

He got to Holly and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I will stand by you in all things, even your anger at our king, but do not get us killed when we are about to go on to such glory as the goblins have not seen in more than two thousand years.” Somewhere in that speech was his acknowledgment that he wouldn't have let Kurag kill Holly; that he would have backstabbed the king before he'd have allowed that.

Holly made a violent motion to point toward us, his arm flailing. He shot a glance our way that was venomous in its hatred. “They left us to die. How can you go to their beds?”

Ash grabbed his brother's arms, fingers digging in deeply enough that you could see it from a distance. He shook him, just a little. “These sidhe did nothing to us. None of them is mother or father to us.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Look at them, Holly, look at them with something other than your hatred.” He actually turned his brother around to face us, and the look on that one's face was such a mixture of pain and rage that it was hard to meet. “There is no golden skin and hair among them. They are Unseelie sidhe, and they did nothing to us.”

Holly looked almost ready to cry. Something I thought I'd never see on a goblin's face. Kitto cried, but that was Kitto. He'd ceased to be a goblin to me, and was simply himself. No matter how sidhe Holly looked, he was still a goblin to me. Genetically he was half-sidhe, but culturally and morally he was goblin. I'd treat him that way until he convinced me otherwise.

“I do not believe that this goblin can shine like a sidhe,” Holly said, his voice angry and desperately stubborn.

“Make him shine, Merry,” Kurag said. “He needs convincing.”

“If we have your guarantee that Kitto will not be meat for every goblin who wants a taste of sidhe flesh, then I will make him shine for you. Without that guarantee, I think his fear may prevent it.”

Kitto shivered against me. He'd turned his head enough to peek at the mirror again, but he clung to me limpet-like, as if afraid the tide would drag him away.

“No,” Holly said, and tore away from his brother's restraining hands. “No, if he gets safe passage then all the trulls will want it.” He shook his head, making his blond hair fly.

“Sadly, I agree with Holly, Merry. If one gains it, then it is a slippery slope.”

I frowned at them, then said, “I am his lover. Does that make me his protector?”

Kurag looked like he wasn't sure what to say. Ash shook his head and said, “She doesn't understand what she's asking.”

Kurag looked at Doyle. “Darkness, the princess is sidhe, but she is not you, or even the pale prince. She has not the strength of arm to withstand every goblin who will want to taste Kitto.”

“She has spoken,” Holly said. “She is his protector, let it stand.”

“Yes,” Creeda said, “let me be the first to fight her when she comes. I will have Kitto, and if I get to cut that pure flesh, so much the better.”

I knew then I'd misspoken, but wasn't sure how to undo it.

“We will not bring the princess to your hall if she must spend all night fighting duels,” Doyle said. “We would be poor bodyguards indeed to do that.”

“Holly is right. If I grant Kitto safety, then the others like him will want the same. We are a more democratic people than you, and I am more ruled by my people's voice than any sidhe ruler.” He shrugged his massive shoulders. “It works well for us, but Merry is not goblin. She would not survive the night.”

“Are sidhe such fragile things?” Holly said, voice full of scorn.

“Don't make me cuff you again,” Kurag said.

“I'm mortal,” I said.

Holly's face showed his surprise, but it was Ash who spoke. “We thought that was an evil rumor bandied about by your enemies. You are truly mortal then?”

I nodded.

Ash looked perplexed. “Then you would die protecting the trulls.”

Rhys moved up behind me, his arms sliding over not just me, but Kitto as well. He leaned his chin on the top of my head but let his hands wander over the smaller man's back.

“We are his protectors,” Rhys said. His voice was very clear, and empty of emotion.

Kitto glanced up at him, and I was thankful that no one in the mirror could see the look of shock on his face. Rhys didn't look at him, just kept that blank face toward the mirror and Kurag.

For once the goblin king was speechless. I think we all were. Well, not all.

Creeda jumped up on the chair so she could get a better view, or be better viewed. “Did we give you a taste for goblin flesh, white knight?”

“Kitto is sidhe,” Rhys said in a flat voice, “so say I.”

“So mote it be,” Doyle said.

There was a ringing in the air, not of actual bells or anything you could hear with your ears, but the words had weight and reverberated through the room. Kurag's face showed that he sensed it, too. Something important had happened. Something fated, some piece of prophecy had either begun or been changed so completely that the fates of all had changed in that moment. You can feel the weight of it, but you never truly know what it means, not until it's too late to do anything to change it. It could be days, or years, before we knew what had happened in those few words.

There was a sound from deeper in Kurag's room. It was a clattering noise with an edge of slithering, like a many-legged snake. I didn't know what the sound was, but Kitto went pale, bloodless in my arms, his body suddenly limp. If I hadn't been holding him, he'd have fallen to the floor. Rhys was on his knees, his hands on my shoulders, but kneeling tall behind me. I could feel the tension singing through his hands.

I wanted to ask what was wrong, but I didn't want us to appear weak in Kurag's eyes. Then Kurag answered the question for me, even unasked.

“I didn't call you yet.” Kurag was angry, but there was an edge of resignation to it. As if the anger were mainly formality. Real anger, but he didn't have much hope it would help things. I'd never seen Kurag so… defeated.

A voice came just out of sight of the mirror. It was high and hissing, and first I thought snake, but it held that metallic buzzing to it that Creeda had, and there was no snake goblin in the queen. The voice said, “You wanted to show me off, didn't you Kurag? Show the princesssss that not all are asss ssidhe ass Holly and Asshh.”

“Yes,” Kurag said, and turned to the mirror. He looked solemn. “Know this, Merry: Not all sidhe-sides have taken after their sidhe parentage. Before you agree to this, you should see what will come to your bed.” He looked at Rhys now, but that teasing edge was gone. “And not all our half-breeds are male.”

“Don't do this, Kurag,” Rhys said, and his voice was empty, but that emptiness was full of something, something that frightened me.

“She is part sidhe, white knight, and she wants her chance at bedding you again.”

That clattering, slithering noise came closer, as if something were crawling and dragging itself along at the same time.

Kitto was making a high-pitched noise deep in his throat, a helpless keening. I held him tight, and it was as if he couldn't feel me. His body still lay limp in my arms, as if he was withdrawing into himself.

“What's happening?” I asked.

Rhys said one word, a name, with such hatred that it hurt to hear it. He said the name just as something crawled upon Kurag's great chair. Something that looked as if it had been sewn together from different nightmares.

“Siun.”

Kitto screamed.