JК
Mistrals Kiss :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 58 из 148He was just about to reach out toward him when magic crawled across my skin, stopped mybreath in my throat.
Doyle felt it, too, and yelled, “Wait! Don’t touch him!”
Rhys started climbing back down the tree, sliding on the rain-slicked bark.
“Rhys! Hurry!” I screamed.
The air around Aisling’s body shimmered, like a heat haze, then exploded. Not in a rain of flesh and blood and bone, but in a cloud of birds. Tiny birds, smaller, more delicate than sparrows. Dozens of songbirds flew over our heads. We all fell to the ground, guarding our heads. Frost put his body over mine, protecting me from the fluttering, twittering mob. The birds looked charming, but looks can be deceiving.
When Frost raised up enough for me to see clearly again, the birds had vanished into the dimness of the trees. I stretched upward, trying to see. “Is the cavern wall farther away than it was?” I asked.
“Yes,” Doyle said.
“The forest stretches for miles now,” Mistral said, and his voice held awe.
“They call it the dead gardens, not the dead forest,” I said.
“It was both once,” Doyle said, softly.
Rhys explained, “This was a world at one time, Merry, a whole underground world. There were forests and streams, and lakes, and wonders to behold. But it whittled down, as our power was whittled away. Until, at the end, it was just what you saw when we entered — a bare patch where a flower garden once grew, surrounded by a fringe of dead trees.” He motioned toward the spreading trees. “The last time I saw anything like this inside any faerie mound was centuries ago.”
Abe hugged me from behind. It startled me, and I tensed. He started to pull away from me, but I patted his arm and said, “You startled me, that’s all.”
He hesitated, then hugged me close. “You’ve done this, Princess.”
I turned enough to see his face. He was smiling. “I think you helped, too,” I said.
“And Mistral,” Doyle added. His deep voice tried for neutral and almost made it, as much as it hurt him to say those words. He’d been convinced that the queen’s ring, which now sat on my hand, had chosen Mistral for my king. Only later had I been able to convince him it wasn’t so much Mistral as the fact that he was simply the first sex I’d had inside faerie while wearing the ring. Doyle had accepted that, but now he seemed to be wondering again.
“Doyle,” I said.
He shook his head at me. “For miracles such as this, what is one person’s happiness, Princess?”
I’d almost broken him of calling me princess.
Doyle felt it, too, and yelled, “Wait! Don’t touch him!”
Rhys started climbing back down the tree, sliding on the rain-slicked bark.
“Rhys! Hurry!” I screamed.
The air around Aisling’s body shimmered, like a heat haze, then exploded. Not in a rain of flesh and blood and bone, but in a cloud of birds. Tiny birds, smaller, more delicate than sparrows. Dozens of songbirds flew over our heads. We all fell to the ground, guarding our heads. Frost put his body over mine, protecting me from the fluttering, twittering mob. The birds looked charming, but looks can be deceiving.
When Frost raised up enough for me to see clearly again, the birds had vanished into the dimness of the trees. I stretched upward, trying to see. “Is the cavern wall farther away than it was?” I asked.
“Yes,” Doyle said.
“The forest stretches for miles now,” Mistral said, and his voice held awe.
“They call it the dead gardens, not the dead forest,” I said.
“It was both once,” Doyle said, softly.
Rhys explained, “This was a world at one time, Merry, a whole underground world. There were forests and streams, and lakes, and wonders to behold. But it whittled down, as our power was whittled away. Until, at the end, it was just what you saw when we entered — a bare patch where a flower garden once grew, surrounded by a fringe of dead trees.” He motioned toward the spreading trees. “The last time I saw anything like this inside any faerie mound was centuries ago.”
Abe hugged me from behind. It startled me, and I tensed. He started to pull away from me, but I patted his arm and said, “You startled me, that’s all.”
He hesitated, then hugged me close. “You’ve done this, Princess.”
I turned enough to see his face. He was smiling. “I think you helped, too,” I said.
“And Mistral,” Doyle added. His deep voice tried for neutral and almost made it, as much as it hurt him to say those words. He’d been convinced that the queen’s ring, which now sat on my hand, had chosen Mistral for my king. Only later had I been able to convince him it wasn’t so much Mistral as the fact that he was simply the first sex I’d had inside faerie while wearing the ring. Doyle had accepted that, but now he seemed to be wondering again.
“Doyle,” I said.
He shook his head at me. “For miracles such as this, what is one person’s happiness, Princess?”
I’d almost broken him of calling me princess.