"When you said all the guards, did you mean the prince's guards, too?" I asked.
Galen nodded. "She liked the look of the female guards in men's shirts, said it was stylish."
"That adds what, five, six more to the list of possible suspects?"
"Six."
"How long has it been known that the queen was going to send the Black Coach to meet me at the airport?"
"Barinthus and I only found out two hours ago."
"They had to act quickly. Maybe the love spell wasn't intended for me. Maybe it was just something they had lying about for some other purpose."
"We're lucky it wasn't meant especially for us. We might not have come to our senses in time if it had been."
I put the ring back in the velvet bag and picked up my turtleneck from the floor. For some reason I couldn't define, I wanted to be dressed before I put the ring on. I looked up at the car's black ceiling. "Is that all you have to show me, car?"
The overhead light went out.
I jumped, even though I'd hoped it would happen.
"Shit," Galen said. He backed away from me, or from the darkened light. He stared at me, eyes very wide. "I've never ridden in the car with the queen, but I've heard..."
"That if it answers to anyone," I said, "it answers to her."
"And now you," he said softly.
I shook my head. "The Black Coach is wild magic; I am not so presumptuous as to assume I have control over it. The car hears my voice. If there is more to it than that..." I shrugged. "Time will tell."
"You haven't been on the ground in Saint Louis an hour, Merry, and there's been one attempt on your life. It's worse than when you left."
"When did you become a pessimist, Galen?"
"When you left the court," he replied.
There was a sorrowful look on his face. I touched his cheek. "Oh, Galen, I have missed you."
"But you've missed the court more." He pressed my hand against his cheek. "I can see it in your eyes, Merry. The old ambition rising."
I drew my hand away from him. "I'm not ambitious in the way that Cel is. I just want to be able to walk the court in relative safety, and unfortunately that is going to take some political maneuvering." I laid the velvet bag in my lap and slipped on the turtleneck. I scrambled into my pants, fitting the gun and the knives back in place. I slipped the suit jacket over everything.
"Your lipstick is gone," Galen said.
"Actually you seem to be wearing most of it," I said.
We used the mirror in my purse to reapply my lipstick, and wipe it off of his mouth with a Kleenex. I ran a brush through my hair, and I was dressed. I couldn't put it off any longer.
I held the ring up in the dimness. It was too large for my ring finger, so I slipped the ring on my first finger. I'd put it on my right hand without thinking about it. The ring was warm against my skin like a comforting touch, a reminder that it was there, waiting for me to figure out what to do with it. Or, maybe, for it to figure out what to do with me. But I trusted my own magic sense. The ring wasn't actively evil, though that didn't mean that accidents couldn't happen. Magic is like any tool: it has to be treated with respect, or it can turn on you. Most magic isn't overtly harmful any more than a buzz saw is harmful, but they can both kill you.
I tried to take the ring off, and it wouldn't come off. My heart beat a little faster; my breath caught in my throat. I started pulling at it sort of desperately, then stopped myself. I took a few deep calming breaths. The ring was a gift from the queen-just seeing it on my hand would make some people treat me with more respect. The ring, like the car, had its own agenda. It wanted to stay on my finger, and there it would stay until it wanted to leave, or until I figured out how to take it off. It wasn't hurting me. There was no need to panic.
I held my hand out to Galen. "It won't come off."
"It was the same on the queen's hand once," he said, and I knew he meant that to be comforting. He brought my hand to his face and kissed it lightly. When his hands brushed the ring, there was a shock of something like electricity, but it wasn't that. It was magic.
Galen let me go and scooted away from me to the far side of the seat. "I'd like to know if Barinthus's touch makes the ring jump like that."
"So would I," I said.
Barinthus's voice came over the intercom. "We'll be at your grandmother's in about five minutes."
"Thanks, Barinthus," I said. I wondered what he was going to say when he saw the ring. Barinthus had been my father's closest adviser, his friend. He was Barinthus Kingmaker, and after my father's death he became my friend and adviser. Some at court called him Queenmaker, but only behind his back, never to his face. Barinthus was one of the few at court who could have defeated my would-be assassins with magic. But if he had stepped in and destroyed my enemies, I would have lost what little credibility I had among the sidhe. Barinthus had had to watch helplessly while I defended myself, though he had counseled me to be ruthless. Sometimes it's not how much power you wield, but what you are willing to do with that power. "Make your enemies fear you, Meredith," he had said, and I had done my best. But I would never be as frightening as Barinthus. He could destroy entire armies with a thought. It meant that his enemies gave him a wide berth.
It also meant that if you were going to swim with sharks, a six-thousand-year-old ex-god was a good swimming partner. I loved Galen, but I worried about him as an ally. I worried that being my friend would get him killed. I didn't worry about Barinthus. I figured that if anyone buried anyone, it would be him, burying me.