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Mistrals Kiss :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 88 из 148The other twoguards, Ivar and Fyfe, were still in the water, still close, but not holding the fallen woman. The water reached to my shoulders, stinging in the claw marks that Segna had made on me, and plenty deep enough to swim in, if it hadn’t hidden those bones beneath its surface. My blood trailed into the black water, lost.
Sholto was cradling Segna’s head and upper body as well as he could with only one good arm. Agnes was still beside him, helping hold her sister hag above the water. I stumbled on the soft bottom and went under. I came up sputtering.
Agnes’s voice came clear to me as she said to Sholto, “How can you want that weak thing? How can that be what you want?”
I heard earth sliding, water moving. I turned to find Doyle and Frost in the water, wading toward me.
Agnes yelled, “It is her kill or she will never be queen.”
“We do not come to kill for her,” Doyle said.
Frost said, “We come to guard her, as your king’s guard protects him.” His face was an arrogant mask. His pale, expensive suit soaked up the dirty water. His long silver hair trailed in the water. Somehow, he seemed more dirtied by the water than anyone else, as if it spoiled his white-and-silver beauty more grievously.
Doyle’s blackness just seemed to melt into the water. The fact that his long braid trailed in the water didn’t bother him. The only thing he worried about keeping clean was his gun. Modern guns shoot just fine wet, but he’d begun using firearms when dry powder meant life or death, and old habits die hard.
I waited for them to reach me, because I wanted the comfort of their presence while I did this. What I really wanted to do was fall into their arms and start screaming. I didn’t want to kill anymore — I wanted life for my people. I wanted to bring life back to faerie, not death. Not death.
I waited, and let their hands give me solace. Let them lift me above the soft, treacherous bottom and guide me through the water. I didn’t collapse against them, but I let myself take courage from the strength of their hands.
A bone brushed my leg. “Bone,” I said.
“A ridge of bone, by the feel of it,” Doyle said.
“Are you hoping Segna dies before you get here?” Agnes asked, voice derisive. The tears shining on her face made me discount the tone. She was losing someone she had lived with, fought beside, loved, for centuries. She’d hated me before this; now she’d hate me even more. I did not want her as my enemy, but it seemed as if no matter what I did, I couldn’t avoid it.
Sholto was cradling Segna’s head and upper body as well as he could with only one good arm. Agnes was still beside him, helping hold her sister hag above the water. I stumbled on the soft bottom and went under. I came up sputtering.
Agnes’s voice came clear to me as she said to Sholto, “How can you want that weak thing? How can that be what you want?”
I heard earth sliding, water moving. I turned to find Doyle and Frost in the water, wading toward me.
Agnes yelled, “It is her kill or she will never be queen.”
“We do not come to kill for her,” Doyle said.
Frost said, “We come to guard her, as your king’s guard protects him.” His face was an arrogant mask. His pale, expensive suit soaked up the dirty water. His long silver hair trailed in the water. Somehow, he seemed more dirtied by the water than anyone else, as if it spoiled his white-and-silver beauty more grievously.
Doyle’s blackness just seemed to melt into the water. The fact that his long braid trailed in the water didn’t bother him. The only thing he worried about keeping clean was his gun. Modern guns shoot just fine wet, but he’d begun using firearms when dry powder meant life or death, and old habits die hard.
I waited for them to reach me, because I wanted the comfort of their presence while I did this. What I really wanted to do was fall into their arms and start screaming. I didn’t want to kill anymore — I wanted life for my people. I wanted to bring life back to faerie, not death. Not death.
I waited, and let their hands give me solace. Let them lift me above the soft, treacherous bottom and guide me through the water. I didn’t collapse against them, but I let myself take courage from the strength of their hands.
A bone brushed my leg. “Bone,” I said.
“A ridge of bone, by the feel of it,” Doyle said.
“Are you hoping Segna dies before you get here?” Agnes asked, voice derisive. The tears shining on her face made me discount the tone. She was losing someone she had lived with, fought beside, loved, for centuries. She’d hated me before this; now she’d hate me even more. I did not want her as my enemy, but it seemed as if no matter what I did, I couldn’t avoid it.