"What do you mean?" Nicca asked.

"You've seen what Bucca has become. He was once one of our great lords—a leader of the Cornish sidhe when there were enough of us to have many courts. Now he is like some misshapen dwarf. The Seelie will not want to believe he is who he says he is, and even if they do believe that, they could try him with his own words. If he says that Taranis is guilty then he himself is guilty as well. Taranis could simply deny, and force them to execute Bucca for the crime. Someone is punished for the crime, the mystery is solved, and the only witness to Taranis's part in it is dead. It would be very neat."

"Sounds like him," Rhys said.

"But Bucca has the queen's own protection," Nicca said. "He is being guarded at this moment by the Unseelie."

"Yes," Doyle said, "and the queen told none of Bucca's guards why he was being guarded, yet the rumors have already begun."

"What rumors?" I asked.

"Whispers about the Nameless and who would gain from its attack on Maeve Reed. The rumors are only in the faerie courts, but the attack was on all the major news sources, and some of the sidhe of both courts keep up with the human news." He stared at the cup while he spoke, as if mesmerized by it. "Most know that Taranis personally had her exiled. The rumors are already beginning. If he'd had other magicks that could have slain Maeve from a distance, I think he would have used them. The Nameless may not be able to be traced back to him directly, but it is a major power, and everyone now knows that whoever released it, it was used to hunt Maeve."

"His very fear will be his undoing," Frost said.

"Perhaps," Doyle said, "but a cornered wolf is more dangerous than one in the open. We do not want to be around Taranis when he feels himself out of options."

"Which brings me back to why he wants me to visit the Seelie Court," I said. I pushed away from the comforting weight of both men. There were too many questions, too much happening, for a mere hug to make it all right. It was very human and very un-fey-like of me, but I just didn't want to be held right that moment.

"He says, he wishes to renew your acquaintance now that you are about to be heir to the Unseelie throne," Doyle said.

"You don't believe that any more than I do."

"It has the kernel of truth, or it would be an outright lie, and we do not lie to each other."

"Maybe, but a sidhe will omit so much of a truth that it might as well be a lie," I said.

Sage laughed, and it was like the ring of golden bells. "Oh, the princess does know her people."

"We bought your silence," Doyle said. "Let it be true silence for this discussion, unless you have something of true worth to add." He stared up at the little man, who was circling lazily near the ceiling. "Remember this, Sage: If the Unseelie Court falls, you will be at the mercy of the Seelies, and they will never trust you."

Sage came to stand on the edge of the table, his handsome wings folded back from his shoulders. He gazed up at Doyle — though with Doyle's chin resting on his arm on the table, they were nearly the same height. "If the Unseelie fall, Darkness, it will not be the demi-fey who suffer the most at the hands of the Seelie. They distrust us, but they do not see us as a threat. They will destroy all of you. We will be swatted like flies on a summer day, but they will not see us as worth destroying utterly. We will survive as a people. Can the Unseelie say the same?"

"That is as may be," Doyle said, "but wouldn't it benefit your people to do more than survive? Survival is better than the alternative, Sage, but merely surviving can get tiresome."

"More half-truths and omissions to trick me, is that it?"

"Believe what you like, little man, but I tell you truth when I say that the fate of the demi-fey of one court is tied to the fate of the sidhe of that court."

They stared at each other, and it was Sage who took to the air and broke the staring contest. I'd never doubted who would break first. "The princess is right, Darkness, none of the sidhe can be trusted."

Doyle raised himself up from the table enough to shrug. "That this is true of many of us, I cannot argue with." He looked across the room at me. "I would give much to know Taranis's true purpose in inviting you to the Seelie Court. No one seems to know why he's doing it. His own court is amazed that he wants you back. That he would throw a feast for a mortal."

"He is my uncle," I said.

"Has he ever acted like an uncle to you before?" Doyle asked.

I shook my head. "He almost beat me to death as a child for asking about Maeve Reed's exile. He doesn't give a damn for me."

"Why not just refuse the invitation?" Galen said.

"We've been over this, Galen. If we refuse the invitation, then Taranis will see it as an insult, and wars, curses, all sorts of unpleasantness among the sidhe have begun over things like that."

"We know it's a trap of some kind, yet we're still walking into it. That makes no sense to me."

I looked at Doyle for help. He tried. "If we go at Taranis's invitation, then he is guest-bound to treat us well. He cannot challenge any of us to a personal duel, or cause us harm, or allow harm to come to us while we are his guests. Once we step outside his mound, his court, then he can challenge us on the spot, but not inside his own court. It is too old a law among us for even his own nobles to stomach a breach in it."

"Then why are we so worried about taking enough guards inside the court to keep Merry safe?"

"Because I could be wrong," Doyle said.

Galen literally threw his hands up. "This is crazy."

"Taranis could be crazy enough to try to do harm on the spot. His court could be more corrupt than I know. Prepare for what your enemy can do, not what they will do."

"Don't quote at me, Doyle." Galen was pacing up and down one side of the kitchen as if he needed to use up some of the nervous energy floating around the room. "We are endangering Merry by going to the Seelie Court, I know it."

"You do not know it," Doyle said.

"No, I don't know it. But I feel it. It's a bad idea."

"Everyone agrees it's a bad idea, Galen," I said.

"Then why do it?"

"To find out what Taranis wants," Doyle said, "in the least dangerous way."

"If going to the Seelie Court and standing next to the King of Light and Illusion is the least dangerous way, I'd like to know what the most dangerous way would be."

Doyle finally stood and walked toward Galen, who was still pacing the kitchen. He stopped the pacing by simply standing in front of Galen, forcing him to stand still. They stood and looked at each other, and for the first time I felt something between them. Some test of wills that had happened with Doyle and Frost, Doyle and Rhys, but never Galen.

"The most dangerous way would be if we refused Taranis's invitation and gave him an excuse to call Meredith out for a duel."

"It's been centuries since anyone's dueled over matters of court etiquette," Rhys said.

"Yes," Doyle said, but his gaze never left Galen. For the first time I was aware that Galen and Doyle were the same height, and Galen's shoulders were actually a touch broader. "But it is still an acceptable reason to give challenge. If Taranis wants Merry dead, it would be perfect. She could not refuse him outright, because to do so would force her into exile. A sidhe noble who refuses challenge, for whatever reason, is branded a coward, and cowards cannot rule at either court."

Galen's shoulders rounded a little, as if he slumped. "He wouldn't dare."

"He released the Nameless to slay one sidhe woman, for fear she would whisper his secret. I think Taranis would dare anything."

"I didn't think..." Galen started.

"No," Doyle said, "you did not."

Galen stepped back from him. "Fine, I'm stupid, I don't understand court politics, and I don't understand being that devious. I'm useless at strategy, but I'm still scared for Merry to go into the Seelie Court."