"We all agree that what Taranis has done was selfish and not deeds fit for a king," Doyle said, "but he is king. We cannot accuse him of his crimes, and see him punished."

"Why not?" Kitto asked, still huddled in his chair, sipping his hot chocolate.

"He is king," Doyle repeated.

"Among the goblins, if you know the king has broken our laws, you can confront him in open court. It is our way, and our law."

"The sidhe are not so straightforward," Doyle said.

"Yes, it is what has allowed you to best us for centuries, the fact that you are more devious than we are."

I glanced at Rhys, and something on my face must have shown because he said, "I'm not going to argue with him. The sidhe are more devious than the goblins. Goddess knows that the sidhe are more devious than any of the fey."

"So good to hear a sidhe admit the truth," Sage said.

I looked at the little man on the counter. He looked so harmless sitting there with his oversize mug of cocoa. There was even a rim of chocolate foam around his mouth so that the illusion of childish innocence was even stronger than normal. The demi-fey traded on the fact that they looked cute. I'd seen a flock of them tear the flesh from Galen's body while he lay chained and helpless. Prince Cel had ordered them to do it, but they'd enjoyed the feast.

He half fell and half pushed himself off the cabinet to hover in midair. "This is all moot, my sidhe friends, for I must tell Queen Niceven. It is all well for you to think of concealing things from your queen, because Merry may yet be queen in her stead, but Niceven's hold upon her court is secure, and I cannot chance her anger." He fluttered to the edge of the table, landing as if he had no weight, though I knew he actually weighed more than he appeared to. It always seemed like it should be the other way around, but there was substance to Sage that you could feel when he walked on your body.

He moved toward the chalice, and Doyle put a hand out, almost but not quite in front of him. "You see enough from where you are."

Sage put his hands on his slender hips and stared up at the much larger man. "What do you fear, Darkness, that I will steal it away, take it back to my court, my queen?"

"It is a sidhe gift, and it will remain in sidhe hands," Doyle said.

Sage sprang into the air, fluttering around the overhead light like some great moth, though in truth there was more of butterfly than moth to him. "But I still must needs report this to Queen Niceven. You can debate all you wish about telling your queen, but because I must tell mine, you might as well tell yours."

"We will be at the courts tomorrow night," I said. "Can you wait that long to tell your queen?"

"Why should I wait?" he asked, and came to hover in front of my face so that the wind of his wings danced in my hair.

"Because it would be safer for all of us, including your people, if fewer people know of the chalice."

He pointed a finger at me. "Tut, tut, Princess, logic will not win me. I stayed away today though your magic called me like the love song of a siren." He lit upon the table in front of me. "I did not come because I have witnessed all the amazing sidhe sex I ever wish to see, since I am not invited into your bed. I am not really much of a voyeur."

"I agreed to share blood with you once a week, Sage. That was the price of alliance with your people. I've kept my end of the bargain."

He paced in front of me on tiny butter-colored feet that matched the yellow of his wings. "Blood is a fine thing, Princess, but it does not take the place of a good thrusting." He leaned his hands on my hand, as if I were a fence, and gazed up at me with tiny black eyes. "Let me in your bed tonight and I will tell no one until we arrive at the courts."

I moved my hand quick enough to make him stumble, and he took to the air, his wings an angry blur. "Are you really still trying to make a bid to be my king, Sage? I thought we had been clear about this."

He got near enough to my face that I heard the whir of his wings. Real butterfly wings didn't make that noise. He sounded like an angry hummingbird. "Yes, originally my queen wished to make a bid to put me on the Unseelie throne as her puppet, but Flora save me, Princess, I don't care about that anymore."

"What do you care about?" Doyle asked.

Sage turned in midair and rose high enough to look at both of us. "I want sex. I want to lie with a woman again. Is that so hard a thing to believe?"

"No," Doyle said.

"No," I said.

It was Kitto who said, "The demi-fey don't care about sex any more than the goblins do, not if they can have power and blood."

Sage turned and stared at the goblin who had become sidhe. "Your kind still roasts us on spits and thinks us a delicacy. Forgive me if I don't give your opinion much weight." The sarcasm was thick in his voice.

Kitto hissed at him, and he hissed back.

"Enough," Doyle said. "What would you take to keep our secret until we arrive at the courts tomorrow night? Do not ask again for sex with the princess, for that is not going to happen."

Sage crossed his arms and did a very good imitation of a child's pout, complete with the chocolate mustache on his mouth, but I'd seen him with my blood smeared across his tiny mouth too many times to fall for it. He acted cute because it was what was left to the demi-fey, but he wasn't. He was dangerous, treacherous, lecherous, and spiteful, but not cute.

"How about the blood of a god?" Rhys asked.

Sage turned in midair like some fantastic helicopter to face Rhys. "Are you offering Maeve's blood, or Frost's?"

"Mine."

He shook his head. "You are no god."

"My power has returned. Doyle called me Cromm Cruach again this day."

Sage turned to Doyle. "Is this true, Darkness?"

Doyle nodded. "I give you my word that I called him Cromm Cruach this day."

Sage hovered in front of Rhys so that the white curls moved around Rhys's face. He went close and closer until his body almost touched Rhys. He darted in and licked Rhys's forehead, then darted away before Rhys could catch him, or swat him. Though Rhys didn't try for either. Galen would have, but Galen had the same reason to hate the demi-fey that Rhys had to hate the goblins, and it had been much more recent.

"You don't taste like a god, Rhys. You taste good, powerful, but not a god."

"When's the last time you tasted a god?" Rhys asked.

Sage fluttered over toward Frost, though he stayed out of reach. Frost wasn't tolerant of unwanted touch from anyone. Centuries of forced celibacy had made him most un-fey-like in that regard. I could touch him, but few others could.

"Let me taste your skin, Frost. No blood, not yet."

Frost scowled up at the little man, and shook his head. "I am no one's blood whore."

"What does that make me?" I asked, and my voice was as cold as my anger was hot. I'd had about all I could handle of Frost's moods for one day. I was the one who'd almost died; when was it my turn to be in a mood?

Frost looked confused. "I didn't mean..."

I walked toward him. "If I'm willing to donate a little blood for the cause, then what makes you too good to do it?"

He motioned at the hovering demi-fey. "I do not want that laying its mouth on me."

"I do it once a week, Frost. If it's good enough for a princess, it's good enough for you."

His face was the arrogant mask he wore when he was hiding what he was thinking. "Are you ordering me to do it?" His voice was very cold, and I knew that here could be something that would drive a wedge between us, maybe for a day, maybe forever. You never knew with Frost.

I stepped close to him, and when he jerked away, I let my hand fall to my side. "Not exactly, but I am asking you to please do this. Please help us."

"I don't want to..."