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A Caress Of Twilight :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 185 из 236"Yes, I would very much like company."
He offered me his arm, and I laid my hand across his in a very formal way.
"Would you like more company?" Doyle asked.
I looked around the room and tried to decide if I wanted to impress my mother, or insult her. With the men in my living room I could do either, or maybe even both.
There really wasn't room for everybody to troop in, so I settled for Galen and Doyle. I didn't really need protection from my own mother. At least, not the kind of protection that bodyguards could supply.
Doyle went first, to tell her that the princess would be a moment. Galen and I waited outside the door for a little bit, then we walked in. He escorted me in front of the mirror, then sat down on the dark burgundy bedspread, trying to be unobtrusive.
Doyle stayed standing, though he moved to the far side of the mirror. He wasn't as concerned with being unobtrusive.
I faced the mirror. I knew her hair fell in thick, perfect waves past her waist, but you couldn't tell that from her image in the mirror. Her elaborate hairdo was piled upon her head in layers. She had used leaves made of hammered gold to encircle the hairdo. They almost hid the very ordinary brown of her hair. It wasn't as if no one of pure sidhe blood had brown hair, because some did. I think she hid her hair because it was exactly like her mother's, my half-brownie, half-human grandmother. Besaba, my mother, hated to be reminded of her origins.
Her eyes were merely brown, a nice solid chocolate brown with long, long lashes. Her skin was lovely. She'd always spent hours on her skin — milk baths, creams, lotions — but nothing she could do would ever give her the pure white of moonlit skin, or the soft gold tint of sunlight skin. She would never have sidhe skin, never. Her older twin sister, Eluned, had that glowing skin. But it was my mother's skin, more than the hair or eyes, that set her apart, at a glance, as not pure sidhe.
Her cream-colored dress was stiff with gold and copper thread. The square neckline made much of her bust, creamy mounds, but there was a reason why the sidhe are so fond of bust-improving styles: they don't have a great deal to work with.
Her makeup was artful, and she was, as always, beautiful. She'd never gone a single visit without reminding me that she was lovely, a Seelie princess, and I was not. I was too short, too human shaped, and my hair, dear Goddess, my hair was blood auburn, a color that was found only in the Unseelie Court.
I looked at her, her beauty, and realized that she could have been human.
He offered me his arm, and I laid my hand across his in a very formal way.
"Would you like more company?" Doyle asked.
I looked around the room and tried to decide if I wanted to impress my mother, or insult her. With the men in my living room I could do either, or maybe even both.
There really wasn't room for everybody to troop in, so I settled for Galen and Doyle. I didn't really need protection from my own mother. At least, not the kind of protection that bodyguards could supply.
Doyle went first, to tell her that the princess would be a moment. Galen and I waited outside the door for a little bit, then we walked in. He escorted me in front of the mirror, then sat down on the dark burgundy bedspread, trying to be unobtrusive.
Doyle stayed standing, though he moved to the far side of the mirror. He wasn't as concerned with being unobtrusive.
I faced the mirror. I knew her hair fell in thick, perfect waves past her waist, but you couldn't tell that from her image in the mirror. Her elaborate hairdo was piled upon her head in layers. She had used leaves made of hammered gold to encircle the hairdo. They almost hid the very ordinary brown of her hair. It wasn't as if no one of pure sidhe blood had brown hair, because some did. I think she hid her hair because it was exactly like her mother's, my half-brownie, half-human grandmother. Besaba, my mother, hated to be reminded of her origins.
Her eyes were merely brown, a nice solid chocolate brown with long, long lashes. Her skin was lovely. She'd always spent hours on her skin — milk baths, creams, lotions — but nothing she could do would ever give her the pure white of moonlit skin, or the soft gold tint of sunlight skin. She would never have sidhe skin, never. Her older twin sister, Eluned, had that glowing skin. But it was my mother's skin, more than the hair or eyes, that set her apart, at a glance, as not pure sidhe.
Her cream-colored dress was stiff with gold and copper thread. The square neckline made much of her bust, creamy mounds, but there was a reason why the sidhe are so fond of bust-improving styles: they don't have a great deal to work with.
Her makeup was artful, and she was, as always, beautiful. She'd never gone a single visit without reminding me that she was lovely, a Seelie princess, and I was not. I was too short, too human shaped, and my hair, dear Goddess, my hair was blood auburn, a color that was found only in the Unseelie Court.
I looked at her, her beauty, and realized that she could have been human.