We opened our arms and the Darkness laid himself across the bed so we could hold him while he cried, because we would age and he would not.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

TRANCER’S HANDCUFFS WERE fastened through the metal ring on the metal table in the interrogation room. His feet were chained to a ring in the floor. His long brown hair was disheveled, but since he couldn’t raise his hands to smooth it into place, there was nothing he could do about it. I knew how vain the men of the courts were about their appearance, so it bothered him more than it would have most men, but there were probably things about his physical appearance that bothered him more right now. One tricolored eye was swelling shut, the cheek underneath it was swollen, and his mouth had blood drying at the corner of the opposite side from the other damage, as if someone had hit him on one side, then backhanded him and hit him again. For all I knew that was exactly what happened, but honestly, I didn’t care. I hoped it hurt, hoped he was hurting. If he had pulled the trigger and killed Sholto, I planned on him hurting, a lot.

I was strangely calm as I sat across the table from him. I felt icy calm, as if something in me had gone cold and would never be warm again. It was still a type of shock, emotional shock, and I knew that, but thanks to being in shock, I didn’t care about that either. It would help me think; it would help me question the man sitting chained across from me without losing my temper. The police hadn’t wanted me in here, and as Merry Gentry, private detective, I wouldn’t have been, but I was sitting here as Queen Meredith of the Sluagh, and Trancer was still invoking his rights as a citizen of faerie, so being a queen trumped my PI license all to hell.

No matter what you see on television, interrogation rooms are small, so with Rhys and Doyle standing behind me, and Detective Lucy Tate standing in the far corner along with one local detective it was … cozy. Lucy was here as a courtesy since she was L. A. homicide, not Malibu, which was where the beach house was located, but the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s department was like most police departments, they both fiercely protected their turf and wanted desperately to avoid blame in high-profile cases. There was always that mix of wanting to be the hero and not wanting to be the scapegoat for a mediaworthy case like this one. It was a thin line to walk, and they were willing to let me help them walk it, for now.

“You told me you and your wife wanted me to help give you a baby; was that a lie?”

I had a moment to see him surprised by the question, before he schooled his face to polite blankness. It didn’t work as well with the bruises and blood, but he did his best. He was a noble of the Seelie Court; he knew how to hide his feelings.

“Answer her,” Doyle said in a growling deep voice.

“I don’t have to answer her,” Trancer said.

Detective Ivan stepped away from the wall, running a hand through his short, dark hair. He looked exotic, almost Asian, but not quite. “You don’t have to talk to us, local cops, or even Detective Tate here, because your diplomatic immunity means we have no authority over you.”

“See, I don’t have to answer any of your questions.” He sounded far too satisfied when he said it.

“You don’t have to answer our questions,” Lucy said, “but you do have to answer to your own people.”

“The princess is not one of my people.”

“Technically, I am a princess of both courts, but I’m not here as a princess.”

He actually sneered at me. “What then, as a private detective?”

I smiled, not pleasantly. I clenched my hands together in front of me, because if I lost control of my temper I didn’t want to hurt him by accident. No, if I hurt him, I wanted it to be on purpose.

“No, as Queen Meredith.”

“Queen of what?” And again he made it disdainful.

“Queen of the Sluagh, married and crowned by faerie itself to King Sholto.”

A flicker of uncertainty crossed through the one eye I could read well, but his arrogance climbed back into place almost instantly. “The sluagh are already electing a new king, and then you will be nothing to them. They are not a hereditary monarchy, so even if your babies are Sholto’s they gain no hold on the crown of the dark host.”

“The sluagh have voted to elect no new ruler until King Sholto’s murderer is punished. Until then, I am Queen Meredith the First, of the Sluagh.”

I saw the first hint of fear, but he conquered it quickly and was back to arrogance. “I don’t believe you.”

“It is unprecedented in all their long history, so I can understand you not believing it, but you don’t have to take my word for it.” I looked back over my shoulder and said, “Doyle, could you ask Barra to come inside, please?”

He went to the door without a word, spoke low, and held the door open. Barra didn’t walk in; he crawled sideways around the wall of the door frame and flowed up to hang on the ceiling above me, which put him above the table, and our prisoner—who stared up at the nightflyer with undisguised fear on his face. Good.

But Trancer was made of stern stuff, and though he couldn’t quite control his face, his voice was unconcerned. “Almost every type of fey has been exiled at one time or another. One nightflyer in the Western Lands proves nothing.”

“Oh, is that all,” I said. “Doyle, if you please.”

He opened the door again and the nightflyers flowed inside like writhing, fleshy water, until they covered the ceiling and most of the walls.