Free A Shiver of Light by Laurell K. Hamilton

bed because they had thorns. Two nurses and a doctor had pricked themselves on the thorny vines.
    “We’ve already given away a lot of it to other patients,” Galen said.
    “Most of the stuffed toys should go to the children’s ward,” I said. I turned too fast to motion at the toys and had to stop and try a less dramatic turn. I felt good, but if I moved a certain way I could feel the stitches and the abuse my body had suffered to get our little trio on the outside. I was just happy to be in real clothes again. The sundress was designer maternity, one of the many gifts we’d had over the months that came with the words, “Just tell people what you’re wearing and it’s free.” Since we were supporting a small army of fey on not-large-enough salaries, we’d taken most of the gifts. The ones that didn’t come with contracts to sign, those we’d let our entertainment lawyers to look over.
    We’d been offered a reality show. Did we want cameras following us around everywhere? No. Did we need the money? Yes. Which was why the entertainment lawyers were going over the contracts, but we had to decide today. The producers wanted it to begin with the babies coming home, so that meant that the film crew needed to either come to the hospital to start filming, or film us as we brought the babies into the house. We needed the money, but what would my relatives do on camera?
    As if he’d read my mind, Rhys said, “I think the reality show is a bad idea, have I said that yet?”
    “You mentioned it,” I said, still staring at the stuffed animals, some of which were nearly three feet tall. What would newborn babies do with such a thing? We’d leave them for older children who would love them and needed them more than our tiny ones. Bryluen, Gwenwyfar, and Alastair weren’t able to reach for things yet, let alone manage a forest of giant toys. The world was big enough to them right now without that.
    “I agree with Rhys, but I know that Merry feels it’s wrong to expect Maeve to keep supporting all of us.”
    “It’s an old tradition that when the ruler visited his nobles they were expected to entertain him, or her, and all their traveling court,” Rhys said. He picked up one of the potted plants and shook his head. I think he was thinking what I was thinking: We couldn’t possibly take all the plants home. It would be a full-time job just to water them all. Though some of the tiny winged demi-fey had picked a few of them to cuddle into; those we’d bring home.
    “I’ve read that Henry the Eighth used that tradition to bankrupt rivals, or nobles he was trying to control,” I said.
    “People make jokes about fat Henry, but he was a very good politician and understood the power of being king.”
    “He abused that power,” I said.
    “He did, but they all did. It’s hard to resist absolute power, Merry.”
    “Is that from personal experience?” Galen asked.
    Rhys looked at him, and then down at the piles of gifts. “Being a deity with worshippers does tend to make a person a little high-handed, but I learned my lesson.”
    “What lesson is that?” I asked, and came up to wrap my arm through his so that I could rest my cheek against his shoulder.
    He turned his head enough to smile at me, and said, “That just because people call you a god doesn’t make you one.”
    A tiny and very female voice said, “You were the great god Cromm Cruach, and your followers healed all hurts.”
    We looked at one of the winged demi-fey; it was Penny, Royal’s twin sister. She’d been fluttering among the flowers but now rose so she’d be head height for us. She had her brother’s short black curls, pale skin, and black almond-shaped eyes, but her face was even more delicate, her body a little smaller. She was wearing a gauzy red-and-black dress that looked very nice with her wings.
    Rhys looked at her, face not happy. “That makes you very old indeed, little one, much older than I thought.”
    “I had no wings then,