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Mistrals Kiss :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 73 из 148The last time I’d seen Sholto’s upper body bare, without him wasting magic to make it look smooth and muscled, and fully sidhe, there had been a nest of tentacles starting a few inches below the breast area to stop just above his groin. He had the full set of tentacles that the nightflyers used as arms and legs, as well as the tiny suction-tipped tentacles that were secondary sexual organs. It had been these little extras that had made me avoid taking him to my bed — Goddess help me, I’d seen them as a deformity. But that wasn’t a problem now. The skin where the tentacles had been was now just raw, red, naked flesh. Whoever had done it hadn’t just chopped the tentacles off, they had shaved them away, along with most of his skin.
CHAPTER 11
“THE LOOK ON YOUR FACE, MEREDITH — YOU DIDN’T KNOW. YOU really didn’t know.” His voice sounded calmer, half relieved, half reinjured, as if he hadn’t expected it.
I forced myself to look away from the wound, and at his face. The eyes were too wide, his mouth open, as if he were panting. He looked like he was in shock. I found my voice, but it was a hoarse whisper. “I did not know.” I licked my lips and tried to get hold of myself. I was Princess Meredith NicEssus, wielder of two hands of power, trying to be queen; I had to do better than this. I was huddled against Doyle, but pulled myself away. If Sholto could survive such a wound, then the least I could do was not cower in the face of it.
The high-pitched voice came from one of the shorter guards again, and Sholto spoke as if in response. “Ivar is right. The looks on all your faces make it clear — none of you knew. On the one hand, I feel less betrayed; on the other, what it tells me about the politics at work here says it’s more dangerous for our court — for both our courts.”
I stepped toward him, slowly, the way you’d approach a wounded animal. Slowly, so you don’t scare him more. “Who did this?” I asked.
“The golden court did this.”
“You mean the Seelie?”
He gave a small nod.
Doyle said, “Only Taranis himself might be able to wrest you away from your sluagh. No other noble at his court is powerful enough to take you like that.”
Sholto looked at Doyle, a long, considering look. “That is high praise from the Queen’s Darkness.”
“It is truth. The princess said it best: The sluagh are the last of the wild hunts. The last left in all of faerie. You and your people alone still have the wild magic running through your veins. It is not a small power, King Sholto.
CHAPTER 11
“THE LOOK ON YOUR FACE, MEREDITH — YOU DIDN’T KNOW. YOU really didn’t know.” His voice sounded calmer, half relieved, half reinjured, as if he hadn’t expected it.
I forced myself to look away from the wound, and at his face. The eyes were too wide, his mouth open, as if he were panting. He looked like he was in shock. I found my voice, but it was a hoarse whisper. “I did not know.” I licked my lips and tried to get hold of myself. I was Princess Meredith NicEssus, wielder of two hands of power, trying to be queen; I had to do better than this. I was huddled against Doyle, but pulled myself away. If Sholto could survive such a wound, then the least I could do was not cower in the face of it.
The high-pitched voice came from one of the shorter guards again, and Sholto spoke as if in response. “Ivar is right. The looks on all your faces make it clear — none of you knew. On the one hand, I feel less betrayed; on the other, what it tells me about the politics at work here says it’s more dangerous for our court — for both our courts.”
I stepped toward him, slowly, the way you’d approach a wounded animal. Slowly, so you don’t scare him more. “Who did this?” I asked.
“The golden court did this.”
“You mean the Seelie?”
He gave a small nod.
Doyle said, “Only Taranis himself might be able to wrest you away from your sluagh. No other noble at his court is powerful enough to take you like that.”
Sholto looked at Doyle, a long, considering look. “That is high praise from the Queen’s Darkness.”
“It is truth. The princess said it best: The sluagh are the last of the wild hunts. The last left in all of faerie. You and your people alone still have the wild magic running through your veins. It is not a small power, King Sholto.