"I'll give blood," Frost said, "but no glamour. I agreed to blood, not magic."
Rhys started to say something, but I touched his arm. "You'll have what we bargained for, Sage, all of it, but let Frost go back to his bed. He's no use to us tonight."
Frost flinched at my last words, a mere tightening around his eyes, but I'd made a study of him and knew what it meant.
"Who would you have in his place?" Sage asked, flying lower so that he and I were face to face. "Galen, perhaps?" His smile managed to be both evil and happy.
"You know better than to ask, Sage," I said.
He pouted, but he didn't mean it. "I will not share you with the goblin again. I want no drink from Darkness." He seemed to think about it for a moment, then alit upon the pillow in my lap. The purple satin sagged under his weight. He was always heavier than he looked, or even than I remembered. "Nicca, then, for he is all that remains."
I nodded. "Agreed."
"You have not asked Nicca if he will allow the demi-fey to take his blood," Frost said.
I looked at him, and he was still heart-stoppingly handsome. The question was, was beauty enough, and the answer, of course, was, no. "I don't have to ask Nicca, Frost. If I send for him, he'll come, and he'll do what I tell him to do. Nicca won't argue about it, he'll just do what needs doing."
"And I won't," Frost said, tilting his chin upward, looking like something carved of arrogance and defiance.
I sighed. "I love you, Frost."
That softened his face, made the uncertainty rise to the surface for a moment.
"I love you in my bed, I love so much about you, but I will be queen. I will be absolute ruler of our court. You seem to keep forgetting what that means. No matter who is king, I will still rule. Do you understand that, Frost?"
"You would have a puppet as your king."
"No, I would have a partner who knows that unpleasant things must be done, and doesn't argue about things that cannot be changed."
"I cannot be other than I am," he said, and his voice didn't match the steel calm of his face.
"I know that." My voice was soft.
For a second he looked woebegone, then the icy arrogance slid back into place. The mask that he'd worn for centuries at the court. He stared down at me, and there was nothing in his face that I could reason with. He was Frost, the Killing Frost. You do not reason with the cold of winter. You either take shelter from it, or you die.
His voice was as cold as I'd ever heard it when he said, "I will send Nicca to you and I will tell him nothing but that you require him."
"Do that," I said, and couldn't keep my own voice from growing colder. I was angry with him, angry and frustrated, and I didn't know how to save the situation. I was a future queen, and I couldn't even handle my own personal life. That seemed a bad sign. I added, "Thank you, Frost."
"Don't thank me, Princess, I'm just doing my duty." He turned as if to go.
I called him back with my words. "Frost, don't do this."
He only half turned. "Do what?"
"Make this all about you and your hurt feelings. Some things aren't about you. Some things aren't personal at all, they are just necessary."
"May I go?"
I said a short silent prayer for patience with this impossible man, then said, "Yes, go, send Nicca to us."
He left without a backward glance, one hand rubbing the small of his back, which meant he'd had a weapon of some kind there. Frost seldom went completely unarmed. And when he felt insecure he touched his weapons, the way some women play with their jewelry.
"Well," Rhys said, "that went badly."
"Moody, even for the Killing Frost," Sage said, "and angrier."
"Fear," Rhys said, softly.
"What?" I asked.
"Fear," he repeated. "The haughtier Frost gets, the more nervous he is, and nerves is just another word for fear."
"What's he afraid of?" I asked.
"Me." Sage sprang into the air, twirling as if to show off his wings and his skill.
Rhys grinned. "You can be fearsome, but I don't think that's it."
"Then what?" I asked.
Rhys shrugged. "I don't know."
Nicca appeared in the doorway. His ankle-length hair was like a tousled cloak around his body, but he'd thrown on his robe of royal purple silk. The color suited him, bringing out the rich brown of his eyes, the reddish highlights in his nearly auburn hair. It made his skin seem darker, more chocolate. "Frost said you wanted me."
I explained what we needed, and he simply said yes. No fight, no pouting, no disagreement of any kind. It was more than refreshing. It was exactly what the night needed, something simple instead of difficult. Frost in my bed was a thing of great hunger, huge demands, and fierce pleasure. Tonight a little agreeable pleasure, some lesser demands, and a gentle hunger seemed just what the doctor ordered.
Chapter 12
I lay back in the bend of Rhys's arm, nestled against the curve of his shoulder, my head resting on the firm warmth of his chest. Nicca was propped up on his elbow, his body curved just behind mine. He kept a fraction of a distance between us, so that all I could feel against my skin was the humming vibration of his aura, his magic. I wanted to ask him to close the distance between us, to slide his body along the back of mine, but I didn't. I hadn't invited him here for sex. It was Rhys's night, and he'd stopped sharing me with Nicca after we'd defeated the Nameless and some of his powers returned. I'd assumed that with even more of his old power returned, he'd be even more reluctant to share me, so I hadn't asked. Feeling Nicca's warmth at my back, made me want to ask.