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ankles. He had the best alibi of the three, because he’d been having sex with me when the alleged attack took place.
    Once I would have described Rhys as boyishly handsome, but not today. Today he seemed every inch the grown-up, all 5'6" of him. He was the only one of the guards with me today who was less than six feet. Rhys was still handsome, but he’d lost some boyish quality, or gained something else. A man who was more than a thousand years old, and had once been the god Cromm Cruach, couldn’t grow up, could he? If he’d been human, that’s what I would have said, that the events of the last few days had helped him grow up at last. But it seemed arrogant to think that my little adventures could affect a being who had once been worshipped as a god.
    His white hair curled over his shoulders and down the broad plane of his back. He was the shortest of my sidhe guards, but I knew that the body under the suit was the most muscled. He took his workouts very seriously. He wore an eye patch to cover the main scars from an injury he’d received centuries ago. The one eye he had left was lovely, three circles of blue-like lines of sky from different days of the year. His mouth was soft and rich, and one of the most pouting of the men, as if his lips begged to be kissed. I didn’t know what had wrought this new seriousness in him, but it gave him a new depth, as if there was more to him than there had been only a few days ago.
    He was the only one of the three who had been outside the faerie mound, our sithen, when the attack was supposed to have happened. He had actually been attacked by Seelie warriors, and accused to his face of the crime. They had come out into the winter snow hunting my men with steel and cold iron, two of the only things that can truly injure a sidhe warrior. Most of the time even duels between the courts are fought with weapons that can’t bring true injury, true death, to us. It’s like one of those action movies where the men beat the hell out of each other but keep coming back for more. Steel and cold iron were killing weapons. That alone had been a breach of the peace between the two courts.
    The lawyers were arguing. “Lady Caitrin alleges that the attack took place on a day that my clients were actually in Los Angeles,” Biggs said. “My clients can’t have done something in Illinois when they were in California all day. On the day in question, one of the accused was working for the Gray Detective Agency and was in view of witnesses all day.”
    That would have been Rhys. He loved being detective for real. He loved undercover work, and had enough glamour to be even better at it than a human detective. Galen had enough glamour to do it, too, but he couldn’t play the part. Undercover, or decoy, work was only partly looking right. You also had to “feel” right to the person you were trying to catch. I’d done my share of decoy work in years past. Now, no one would allow me near the dangerous stuff.
    So how had Lady Caitrin’s attack taken place before we got to faerie? Time had started running differently in faerie again. Time had started running very differently in the Unseelie sithen around me. Doyle had said, “Time is running oddly in all of faerie for the first time in centuries, but it was running even more oddly around you, Meredith. Now that you have left, faerie time is running oddly, but no more oddly for one court than another.”
    It was both interesting and disturbing that time had run not exactly backward for me, but it had stretched out. It was January for us and the courts, but the date still wasn’t the same. The post-Yule ball that my uncle Taranis had been so insistent on me attending was finally safely past. We’d all decided it was too dangerous for me to attend. The accusation against my guards confirmed that Taranis was up to something, but what? Taranis had a plan, and whatever it was, it would be dangerous to everyone but him.
    “King Taranis has explained