Chapter Five #3
Like most races, the ‘taur had their own funereal colors. Rather than the black clothing of mortal humans or the white robes of the Sidhe, Centauri tradition called for the scarlet of fresh blood. Dearg conjured court garb for himself -- a heavy red brocade tunic trimmed with rubies and black jet beads, along with red britches rather than his usual hose, paired with tall black boots. A scarlet cape draped over one shoulder and under the opposite arm, fastened with a gold chain. Dragon’s Breath rode his hip in a jeweled scabbard.
He wore his black hair loose around his shoulders, and the whole effect -- especially combined with his feral good looks -- damn near made me swallow my tongue.
I studied the effect and turned my police uniform into a variation on the theme -- a red velvet gown with a short train, trimmed with jet beads and rubies on the bodice and along the hem and sleeves. If I needed to fight, I’d have to transform it or I’d trip on all the fabric.
Dearg gestured, and the bier floated into place behind me.
I slid a hand into the crook of his elbow, and we strolled through the gate he opened at the palace to step into a huge library.
My inner bookworm went on the alert at the sight of all the floor-to-ceiling shelves of books, scrolls, and enough magical items to make my teeth buzz like cicadas.
King Ll?r and Queen Diana awaited us. I blinked.
Ll?r was dressed in ceremonial garb that emphasized his tall, athletic body.
His wife, on the other hand, wore dirt-smeared jeans and a T-shirt depicting a grumpy cartoon dragon with a to-go cup.
White lettering read, “I have three moods: 1) I need coffee. 2) I need a nap. 3) I need duct tape, rope, and a shovel.”
It was all I could do not to crack up. The queen was obviously my kind of people.
She was also gorgeous, with wide silver eyes, a full mouth, and a delicately boned face.
Her ears were round, since she’d been born a mortal werewolf, and the sensation of Direkind magic rolled off her like expensive perfume.
Dearg began formal introduction in musical High Court Sidhe.
“May I present Iona Anann, Police Chief of Summerwood and granddaughter of Maeve, the Mother of Fairies.” He turned to me and introduced his parents, listing their assorted titles.
The king listened with patient attention.
His wife scrubbed a finger between her brows as if trying to soothe a building headache.
Definitely a woman after my own heart.
“Your Majesties…” I started to drop to one knee.
“None of that.” Queen Diana took my hand for a firm handshake instead. She spoke the tongue of the Cachamwri Sidhe with a faint American accent flavored with a Southern drawl. “I’ve never been fond of all the bowing, and court etiquette gets on my nerves.”
“Mine too,” I admitted, also in court Sidhe.
She dropped into English. “Excuse the jeans -- I was gardening. Sometimes I need to stick my hands in the dirt to avoid strangling Sidhe nobles. Most stuck-up bunch of bigoted… Well.” She studied my gown and nodded approval.
“You definitely understood the assignment. That gown is lovely, though you may need to turn it into armor if some ‘taur gets kicky.” The queen shook her head. “Centauri princes can be assholes. I’ve gotten in more than one fight with them at what was supposedly ‘peace talks.’”
“Yes, I know. I’ve worked with them for years, and they can be… touchy.”
“That’s putting it mildly.” Ll?r’s English had that Sidhe accent that now reminded me of Ireland after my years on Mortal Earth. “How’s the hunt going?”
Dearg grimaced and gestured at Baareo’s bier. “Not as well as I’d hoped.”
“I don’t know about that,” his mother observed. “You and Iona are both still alive, so I think you’re doing pretty well.” She stepped in for a hug, and her son provided it with obvious affection.
“Your mother’s right -- you’ll both need to stay on your toes,” Ll?r added as he gave his son a back-slapping embrace Dearg returned. “I can guarantee that Swiftdeath is going to try something. He’s the middle son, so he’s got something to prove.”
Dearg gave him a nasty grin that was more tiger than wolf. “Yes, but I have excellent spies.”
His father laughed. “That you do. And I’m sure you’ll spring whatever intelligence you’ve gathered at the perfect moment to create maximum chaos.”
“Oh, crap,” Diana said, grimacing. “I hear the honor guard. Ll?r, can you…”
He gestured with a graceful wave of one sword-callused hand.
Her jeans and tee became an elegant royal blue gown a split second before the double doors opened to reveal a small contingent of guards.
They marched in, resplendent in blue dress uniforms, all of them carrying pikes.
They came to a stomping halt and rapped their pikes on the polished floor.
Dearg studied them, his eyes narrowing, his expression going so coldly arrogant, I blinked in surprise. “Form a line and prepare for inspection.” His tone was as icy as his expression, and my brows rose. I shot a quick look at the queen, who stared at the guard, her expression as cold as her son’s.
Huh.
The prince strode along the line of eight warriors, examining every detail of the guards’ uniforms, criticizing the fingerprint on one man’s gold button and the scrape on the toes of another’s tall boots.
In less than a minute, they were all rigid with mortification as Dearg dressed them down in front of the king.
“You are accompanying the Prince of the Two Kingdoms to meet with our enemies. You will not shame me with careless dress.” A slashing gesture of one hand sent a spell rolling over the contingent, correcting the flaws.
Dearg turned to their lieutenant. “You didn’t think to inspect your contingent, Lieutenant Ruadháin? Didn’t you notice their kit?”
Ruadháin’s cheeks went scarlet, and his eyes narrowed. “My apologies, Sire. It will not happen again.”
“By the Egg, it had best not.” He turned to pace back and forth before the detachment.
“We’re about to meet a Centauri prince at a time when our kingdoms are on the verge of war.
If any of you cause an incident, you’ll answer to me.
And you’ll discover every damned rumor about me is true. Form up and prepare to gate.”
This was a side of him that surprised the hell out of me.
He’d been nothing but civil to my men -- downright charming, in fact.
Not that I blamed him for being pissed off.
To appear before your royals in uniforms that weren’t absolutely pristine was an insult, especially given that unlike humans, Sidhe guards didn’t have to polish their gear by hand.
I heard a low wolf growl and started, looking around. That lupine rumble was coming from Queen Diana, whose silver-gray eyes focused on the guards as if she badly wanted to kick someone’s ass -- and not her son’s.
Dearg gestured four of the guards into the lead and took his place directly behind them. When he nodded to me, I smoothed the remnants of my frown into expressionlessness and strode to take his arm, my power towing the bier behind me. The remaining guards fell in behind it.
“Cachamwri be with you,” Ll?r said, gesturing the glowing whirl of a dimensional gate into being.
Dearg gave him a dry smile. “He always is.” His voice dropped to a whisper I doubted anyone else heard. “Whether I want him there or not.”