Doyle leaned his hands on the dresser, head hanging down. The thick braid of his hair slid around his legs like some sort of pet.

"You're scaring me. Just tell me what's happened."

Frost touched the paper that was lying on the table next to him. An idle gesture, but…

"Is that the St. Louis Post-Dispatch?" I asked.

Doyle darted a look at Frost, who raised his hands showing them empty. "She has to know."

"It is," Doyle said, voice tight.

"I talked to Barry Jenkins yesterday. He said he'd out me as the faerie princess. I assume he was as good as his threat."

Doyle turned, leaning his butt against the dresser, arms crossed, so that his right hand caressed his gun. It was a nervous gesture for him. It looked like a threat when he stood behind the queen stroking his gun, and it could be, but it was also a nervous gesture.

I walked over to the table. "What is the big deal, guys? Jenkins is an asshole, but he wouldn't actively lie, not in the Post."

"Read it, then tell me we have nothing to worry over," Doyle said.

The picture of Galen and I at the airport was the lead photo, front page. But it was the caption that got me. princess meredith returns home to find husband. In smaller letters under the photo, it read "is this the one?"

I turned to Doyle and Frost. "Jenkins could be guessing. Galen and I knew there were photographers at the airport." I stared from one to the other of them, and they were still solemn, worried. "What is wrong with the two of you? We've all been in the papers before."

"Not like this," Frost said.

"It gets better," Doyle said, "or worse. Read the article."

I started to browse the article, but the first full paragraph stopped me. "Griffin gave Jenkins an interview." My voice sounded breathy, and I suddenly had to sit down on the edge of the bed. "Goddess save us."

"Yes," Doyle said.

"The queen has already been in contact with us. She will see that he is punished for having broken your trust. She's scheduled a press conference for tonight."

"Please, Meredith, read the article," Doyle said.

I read the article. I read it twice. I didn't mind that Griffin had given personal details, but that he'd done it without my permission. He'd shared my private life with everyone. The sidhe have strange rules about privacy. We don't value intimate secrets as humans do, but our own personal life is not to be spied on. Spying on us used to bring a death penalty. For Griffin, it still might. The queen would think it very déclassé to have tattled to a reporter.

I ended simply sitting on the bed staring at the newsprint but not really seeing it. I looked at the two men. "He gives details of our relationship, hints, dirty little hints. I'm just lucky it was a legitimate paper and not some tabloid."

They looked at each other.

"Oh, no, please, please tell me you're kidding."

Frost reached behind his back as if he'd been reading it as I came out of the bathroom. He held it out to me.

I let the newspaper fall to the floor in a scattered heap and took the sleek colorful paper from him. The picture on the front was one of Griffin and me together in a bed. Only his hands kept my breasts from being fully exposed. I was laughing. We were both laughing. I remembered the pictures. I remembered his desire for the pictures. I still had some of the pictures myself, but not all of them. Not all of them.

I heard my voice and it sounded calm, though far away. "How? How did they get the article out so quickly? I thought magazines didn't get out this fast."

"Apparently, it can be done," Doyle said.

I stared at the picture. The caption was princess meredith and her sidhe lover's sex secrets revealed.

"Please tell me that this is the only picture."

"I am so sorry," Doyle said.

Frost started to touch my hand as if to pat it, then let his hand fall back. "There are no words for how sorry I am that he did this to you."

I looked into Frost's grey eyes. I saw compassion there, but one thing I didn't see was anger. And right now that's what I wanted.

"Does the queen know about this?"

"She knows," Doyle said.

I held it in my hands, wanting to open it, wanting to see what other pictures there were, and I couldn't make myself open it. I couldn't make myself look.

I shoved the paper into Frost's hands. "How bad is it?"

He looked up at Doyle, then back to me. The arrogant, distant mask slipped a little, and the Frost that I'd woken up with peeked from his eyes. "The tabloid didn't use any full frontal nudity. Other than that, it's bad."

I hid my face in my hands, my elbows on my knees. "Oh, God, if Griffin would sell them to Jenkins, to the tabloids, then he might sell them anywhere." I raised up like a swimmer coming out of deep water. It was suddenly hard to get my breath. "There are magazines in Europe that would publish all of the pictures. I didn't mind the nude photos, but they were private—just for Griffin and me. If I'd wanted to publish photos, I'd have said yes to Playboy years ago. Lord and Lady, how could Griffin do this?" I had a horrible thought. I looked to Frost.

"Please tell me that you got the camera and the film from the reporter you tried to strangle this morning?"

He met my eyes, but he didn't want to. "I'm sorry, Meredith, the camera should have been my first priority, but I let my anger better my judgment. I would do anything to make this up to you."

"Frost, they'll publish the pictures, do you understand that? Pictures of you and me, and hell, Kitto, in bed together. They'll plaster them over the tabloids, and the ones with nudity will go to Europe." I would have liked to swear, or scream, but I couldn't think of anything harsh enough to make me feel better.

"Griffin would know what the queen would do to him for this," Doyle said. "He'll be lucky if she doesn't kill him."

I nodded, trying to control my breathing, forcing myself to concentrate on the rise and fall of my own chest. I fought for calm, but it wasn't happening today. I nodded again. "He'll do as much damage as he can before they catch him." I took three quick, gulping breaths, and my voice came out strained, but holding. "I assume he's fled the area."

"We will find him," Frost said. "The world is not that big."

That made me laugh, but the laughter turned into tears. I slid off the chair onto the floor among the scattered pieces of the Post-Dispatch. It hurt to land so hard on the floor. I was aching from the sex, bruised. The pain helped remind me that things were not that bad. Horrible, but I still had access to the men of the court. I was still welcome back in faerie. The queen had given her word—and her power—to keep me from harm. Things could be worse. Or at least that's what I kept trying to tell myself.

I got my breathing under control, but not my anger. "I did not mean him harm last night, but now… " I grabbed the tabloid from Frost and forced myself to look inside. It wasn't the partial nudity that really cut me up. It was the happiness in our faces, our bodies. We'd been in love and it showed. But if he could do this to me, then he'd never really loved me. He'd lusted after me, desired me, wanted to own me, maybe, but love… love didn't do things like this.

I threw the pages up into the air and watched them flutter slowly back to earth. "I want him dead for this. Don't tell the queen that. In a few days I may change my mind, and I don't want her doing anything dramatic." My voice was cold with anger, the kind of anger that settles in your heart and never leaves. Hot rage runs through you, and is close kin to hot passion, but cold rage, that is close kin to hate. For this I hated Griffin, but not enough. "I don't want her to send me his head or heart in a basket. I don't want that."

"She may be planning to kill him anyway," Doyle said.

"Yes, but if she does, then it's on her head, not mine. I won't ask for his death. Let her come up with it on her own."

Frost knelt beside me, gazing up at me with those storm-grey eyes. He took my hands in his. His hands felt warm, which meant my hands were cold. Maybe I was more upset than I thought, maybe I was in shock.

"I am sure our queen has already decided his fate," Frost said.

"No," I said. I stood, pulling away from his hands, from his eyes. I hugged myself, because I knew I could trust my own arms; I was beginning to have doubts about everyone else's. "No, if she catches him right away, she might kill him. But the longer he eludes capture, the more creative she'll get."

Frost stayed kneeling on the ground looking up at me. "If I were he, I think I would prefer to be captured soon, while a quick death was still possible."

"He'll run," I said. "He'll run as far and as fast as he can. He'll delay and hope that some miracle will save him."

"You know him that well?" Frost asked.

I stared down into his face, and laughed. The laughter had a wild edge to it. "I thought I did. Maybe I never knew him at all. Maybe it was all just lies." I stared at Frost. I was glad I didn't love him, glad that it was just flesh. At that moment, I trusted lust more than I trusted love.

Doyle stood, taking my arms gently in his hands. "Don't let Griffin make you doubt yourself, Meredith. Don't let him make you doubt us."

I stared up into his dark face. "How did you know that was exactly what I was thinking?"

"Because it's exactly what I would be thinking in your place."

"No, it isn't, you'd be planning to kill him."

Doyle hugged me to him, resting his face against my hair. I stayed tense against him but didn't pull away. "Say that you wish his death and it will be so. Pick a body part of your choosing, and I will fetch it for you."

"We will fetch it for you," Frost said, standing.

I relaxed enough against Doyle to slide one arm around his waist. I leaned my face against the silk of his shirt. I could hear his heart beating, solid and a little fast.

There was a knock on the door. Doyle nodded and Frost moved to answer it. Doyle drew his gun, then moved me to one side, still in the curve of his arm, so his body blocked me partially from view.

"It's Galen, open up."