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A Caress Of Twilight :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 131 из 236I was pretty sure what Andais's favor would be — not to kill her son if I got the throne — and that was one favor I could not afford to grant. I knew that Cel would never accept me as queen, not as long as he was alive. That Andais didn't understand this was simply a mother's blindness. Cel was a wretched, twisted being, but his mother loved him, which was more than I could say for my own mother.
Frost pushed the door open, entering first; he'd checked and the wards had been intact. The sweet clean smell of lavender and sage incense met us at the door. The main altar sat in the far corner of the living room so that everyone could use it. You didn't need the altar. You could stand in the middle of a meadow, or a woods, or a crowded subway and deity was always with you — if you paid attention, and if you invited it into your heart. But the altar was a nice reminder. A place to start out every day with a little communion of the spirit.
People often thought that the sidhe had no religion — I mean they were once gods themselves, right? Well, sort of. They were worshipped as gods, but most sidhe acknowledge powers greater than they are. Most of us bend knee to Goddess and Consort, or some variation thereof. Goddess is the giver of all life, and Consort is all that is male. They are the template for everything that descends from them. She, especially she, is a greater power than anything on the planet, anything that is flesh, no matter how spiritual that flesh may once have been.
Except for the thin trail of incense from the altar, and a small carved bowl of water that had been added to the altar, the apartment looked empty. It didn't feel empty though. There was the small skin-tingling of magic nearby — not big magic but more the everyday kind. Doyle was probably on the mirror talking to someone. He'd opted to stay behind today and try to uncover more information about the Nameless from some of our friends at court. Doyle's magic was subtle enough that he might go completely undetected as he moved around amongst them. I could not have done it.
Rhys locked the door and pulled a taped note off it. "Galen's out apartment hunting. He hopes we like the flower." He pulled a second note from the door. "Nicca hopes to finish up the bodyguard job today."
"The actress is in no danger," Frost said, as he began to slip his jacket off. "I believe most sincerely that her agent put her up to it, to get more attention for a … how do they say, flagging career."
I nodded. "Her last two movies were pretty much flops, both financially and artistically."
"That I did not know. But the media is there to photograph us more than her."
"She's taking you to all the hot spots where you are bound to get seen.
Frost pushed the door open, entering first; he'd checked and the wards had been intact. The sweet clean smell of lavender and sage incense met us at the door. The main altar sat in the far corner of the living room so that everyone could use it. You didn't need the altar. You could stand in the middle of a meadow, or a woods, or a crowded subway and deity was always with you — if you paid attention, and if you invited it into your heart. But the altar was a nice reminder. A place to start out every day with a little communion of the spirit.
People often thought that the sidhe had no religion — I mean they were once gods themselves, right? Well, sort of. They were worshipped as gods, but most sidhe acknowledge powers greater than they are. Most of us bend knee to Goddess and Consort, or some variation thereof. Goddess is the giver of all life, and Consort is all that is male. They are the template for everything that descends from them. She, especially she, is a greater power than anything on the planet, anything that is flesh, no matter how spiritual that flesh may once have been.
Except for the thin trail of incense from the altar, and a small carved bowl of water that had been added to the altar, the apartment looked empty. It didn't feel empty though. There was the small skin-tingling of magic nearby — not big magic but more the everyday kind. Doyle was probably on the mirror talking to someone. He'd opted to stay behind today and try to uncover more information about the Nameless from some of our friends at court. Doyle's magic was subtle enough that he might go completely undetected as he moved around amongst them. I could not have done it.
Rhys locked the door and pulled a taped note off it. "Galen's out apartment hunting. He hopes we like the flower." He pulled a second note from the door. "Nicca hopes to finish up the bodyguard job today."
"The actress is in no danger," Frost said, as he began to slip his jacket off. "I believe most sincerely that her agent put her up to it, to get more attention for a … how do they say, flagging career."
I nodded. "Her last two movies were pretty much flops, both financially and artistically."
"That I did not know. But the media is there to photograph us more than her."
"She's taking you to all the hot spots where you are bound to get seen.