I worded that last carefully, because if I had said, You may see the babies, she could interpret it as being allowed to come visit in person, and that she hadn’t earned yet.

I gave the order for the babies to be brought into the room. One of the guards went to fetch our nurses and our children to be paraded before their great-aunt, who had nearly killed me when I was little because she thought me not pure-blooded enough, like a mongrel puppy that your prize-winning bitch had dropped. You didn’t keep the mistakes, and Andais had seen me as that, or worse. My father had found us, rescued me, fought with his sister, and taken me and all his courtiers with him into the human world. He had chosen exile to keep me safe. I didn’t understand what it had cost him until I spent my own three years alone and exiled, hiding here in Los Angeles. My father had loved me dearly; my aunt … didn’t love me at all. How could I ever trust her around our babies? The answer was obvious: I couldn’t.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

BRYLUEN FIT IN my arms as if she had been made to tuck into the curve of my elbow. I lowered my face over that tiny face; the dark ginger of her eyelashes lay on her alabaster skin like decoration, almost too perfect to be real. I’m told all mothers think their babies are beautiful; how do you know if you’re seeing the truth, or it’s some illusion made of love and baby hormones? There are types of glamour that have nothing to do with faerie and everything to do with love.

Galen had taken Gwenwyfar in his arms, and then sat back down by my legs, careful not to bump my “footstool” so that Kitto wouldn’t move and ruin his safe pass before the queen. Sholto held Alastair, but stayed standing beside my chair. He rocked the baby automatically when Alastair started to fuss. Once he believed that Bryluen was his, he had joined in caring for all the babies, as if, one being his, they were all his.

“You forget how very tiny they are,” Andais said, and her voice was softer, gentler than any time I’d ever heard her.

I looked up and realized that I’d forgotten she was there; for just a moment there had been nothing but the baby in my arms and my feeling of utter contentment. I’d discovered that sometimes being around the triplets was like being drugged with something slow and pleasant, but I hadn’t expected the effect to continue with my aunt still on the “phone.”

“I remember that look from when Cel was little. He always had that effect on me to a certain extent. Looking at you now, I wonder if it was more than just motherly affection.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Your eyes are unfocused; you look almost drugged.”

“Bryluen did have a very strong effect on a human friend of ours, so much so that we’ve decided no human nannies or babysitters for her,” I said.

“Perhaps my great-niece’s glamour affects more than just humans, Meredith. You would not knowingly let yourself become this distracted in front of me.”

“No, Aunt Andais, I would not.”

She had a thoughtful look on her face, and laid a hand on Eamon’s thigh where it was hidden under his own silk robe. “Do I dare attribute some of my worst mistakes to magic? Was my own son able to throw glamour over my eyes as … Bryluen just did to you?”

“I do not know, Aunt Andais, I cannot speak to it.”

“Nor I with any certainty,” she said, but she kept touching Eamon, stroking his thigh not in a sexual way, but more for comfort. I knew that touch helped keep our minds free of glamour from the King of Light and Illusion, Taranis, and I wondered if she was touching Eamon for comfort, or because there was glamour coming through the mirror from Bryluen and me.

Doyle put his hand back on my shoulder, and I could think even more clearly. It was a sharpening of focus that let me know I hadn’t been at my best just seconds before, and the fact that I hadn’t realized that was not good. We would have serious negotiations today and later with other relatives, allies, and enemies. I couldn’t be besotted with baby glamour while dealing with all of it. How powerful was Bryluen’s effect on the people around her?

“For the idea that my mother’s blindness to my son’s machinations was magic, I thank you, Meredith, and Bryluen. It’s Cornish for ‘rose,’ a sweet name for a little girl.”

“It was a compromise between the men,” I said.

She looked past me to one of the men at my back and said, “So, Killing Frost, you wished to name your new daughter after the love you lost centuries ago, Rose?”

I felt him tense without need of touching him, so his startle reflex must have shown over the mirror to her. Rose had been the name of the woman and her daughter he had loved centuries ago when he was merely Jackul Frosti, Little Jackie Frost. It was love for them, desire to protect them that had made Frost grow from a minor player in the procession of winter into the tall, commanding warrior, because little Jack Frost couldn’t protect his Roses. The Killing Frost could, but in the end, time had taken them away from him. They’d been human and mortal and died as all mortal flesh is doomed to do.

Andais laughed, a high, delighted, wicked peal of laughter. Perhaps it was actually a pleasant laugh, but we’d all heard it so many times when she was enjoying cruelty that it could be nothing but unpleasant to our ears.

Doyle reached across with his free hand to touch Frost and steady him. His reaction must have been even worse than I’d thought for Doyle to show such weakness before the queen. It wasn’t always wise to show how much you truly cared about anyone in front of her.