JК
Mistrals Kiss :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 86 из 148I didnot want to climb down into that stinking hole and wade through razor-sharp bones and dirty water to kill someone I hadn’t meant to even hurt.
“I don’t want this kill.”
“It must be your choice,” Doyle said softly.
Rhys joined us. “If we’re talking about running away to L.A. permanently, can I come, too?”
I smiled at him, touched his face. “Yes, you come, too.”
“Good, because once Cel’s on the throne, the Unseelie Court won’t be safe for anyone.”
I closed my eyes, rested my forehead against Doyle’s bare chest for a minute. I pressed my cheek against him, held him tight, so I could listen to the slow, steady beat of his heart.
Abeloec, who had been quiet, spoke next to my face: “You have drunk deep of the cup, of both cups, Meredith. Wherever you go, faerie will follow you.”
I looked at him, trying to hear all the double meanings in what he’d said. “I don’t want this kill.”
“You must choose,” Abeloec said.
I clung to Doyle for a moment more, then tore myself away. I forced myself to stand straight, shoulders back, though the shoulder Segna had torn ached and stung. If my body didn’t heal itself, I’d need stitches. If we could ever get back to the Unseelie Court, there were healers who could fix me up. But it was as if something, or someone, didn’t want me getting back there. I didn’t think it was political enemies, either — I was beginning to feel the hand of deity pushing firmly in my back.
I’d wanted the Goddess and the God to move among us again — all of us had wanted that. But I was beginning to realize that when the gods move, you either get out of the way or get swept along for the ride. I wasn’t sure getting out of the way was an option for me.
I caught the faintest scent of apple blossoms, a small…what? Warning, reassurance? The fact that I wasn’t sure if it was a warning of danger or a spiritual embrace pretty much summed up my feelings about being the Goddess’s instrument: Be careful what you wish for.
I looked at Sholto, with his wound seeping blood onto his bandages. He and I had both wanted to belong, truly belong, to the sidhe. To be honored and accepted among them. Look where it had gotten us.
I held my hand out to him, and he took it. He took it, and squeezed it tight. Even in all this horror and death, I felt in that one touch how much it meant to him to touch me at all. Somehow, the fact that he still wanted me so much made it all the worse.
“I don’t want this kill.”
“It must be your choice,” Doyle said softly.
Rhys joined us. “If we’re talking about running away to L.A. permanently, can I come, too?”
I smiled at him, touched his face. “Yes, you come, too.”
“Good, because once Cel’s on the throne, the Unseelie Court won’t be safe for anyone.”
I closed my eyes, rested my forehead against Doyle’s bare chest for a minute. I pressed my cheek against him, held him tight, so I could listen to the slow, steady beat of his heart.
Abeloec, who had been quiet, spoke next to my face: “You have drunk deep of the cup, of both cups, Meredith. Wherever you go, faerie will follow you.”
I looked at him, trying to hear all the double meanings in what he’d said. “I don’t want this kill.”
“You must choose,” Abeloec said.
I clung to Doyle for a moment more, then tore myself away. I forced myself to stand straight, shoulders back, though the shoulder Segna had torn ached and stung. If my body didn’t heal itself, I’d need stitches. If we could ever get back to the Unseelie Court, there were healers who could fix me up. But it was as if something, or someone, didn’t want me getting back there. I didn’t think it was political enemies, either — I was beginning to feel the hand of deity pushing firmly in my back.
I’d wanted the Goddess and the God to move among us again — all of us had wanted that. But I was beginning to realize that when the gods move, you either get out of the way or get swept along for the ride. I wasn’t sure getting out of the way was an option for me.
I caught the faintest scent of apple blossoms, a small…what? Warning, reassurance? The fact that I wasn’t sure if it was a warning of danger or a spiritual embrace pretty much summed up my feelings about being the Goddess’s instrument: Be careful what you wish for.
I looked at Sholto, with his wound seeping blood onto his bandages. He and I had both wanted to belong, truly belong, to the sidhe. To be honored and accepted among them. Look where it had gotten us.
I held my hand out to him, and he took it. He took it, and squeezed it tight. Even in all this horror and death, I felt in that one touch how much it meant to him to touch me at all. Somehow, the fact that he still wanted me so much made it all the worse.