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A Caress Of Twilight :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 19 из 236"Fine, but please tell Merry whata bad idea this is."
"What is a bad idea?" Doyle asked.
"Helping Maeve — " Rhys glanced at me, then finished with, "the actress."
Doyle frowned. "I don't remember anyone by that name ever being exiled from either court."
I turned around in my chair and stared at him. His face was dark and unreadable against the bright sunlight. The glasses hid a great deal of his expression, but I was betting, glasses or no, he would have looked puzzled.
I heard Rhys's silk coat whispering as he walked across the floor toward us. I glanced at him. He raised his eyebrows at me. We both looked at Doyle.
"You don't know who she is, do you?" I asked.
"The name you mentioned, Maeve something — should I recognize it?"
"She's been the reigning queen of Hollywood for over fifty years," Rhys said.
Doyle just looked at us. "People from this Hollywood have approached the Queen and the court over the years to come and make movies, or allow them to film movies of their lives."
"Have you ever actually seen a movie?" I asked.
"I have seen movies at your apartment," he said.
I glanced at Rhys. "We have got to get all of them out to a movie."
Rhys half leaned, half sat on my desk. "We could all use a night out."
Kitto plucked at the hem of my short skirt, and I moved my chair so I could look down into his face. A bar of sunlight fell full across his face. For a second the light filled his almond-shaped eyes, turning the solid sapphire blue orbs paler as if they were water and I could see down, down into the sparkling blue depths to a place where white light danced. Then he closed his eyes, wincing against the brightness. He buried his face against my thigh, one small hand wrapped around my calf. He spoke without looking up. "I don't want to sss-ee a movie." He was slurring his Ss badly, which meant he was upset. Kitto worked very hard to talk normally. When you have a forked tongue, that's not easy.
I touched his head; his black curls were so soft, soft the way that a sidhe's hair is soft, not the roughness of goblin hair. "It's dark in the theater," I said, stroking his hair. "You could curl up on the floor beside me and never look at the screen."
He rubbed his head against my thigh like some giant cat. "Truly?" he asked.
"Truly," I said.
"You'll like it," Rhys said. "It's dark and sometimes the floor is so dirty that it sticks to your feet when you walk on it."
"I'll get my clothessss dirty," Kitto said.
"I wouldn't think a goblin would worry about staying clean.
"What is a bad idea?" Doyle asked.
"Helping Maeve — " Rhys glanced at me, then finished with, "the actress."
Doyle frowned. "I don't remember anyone by that name ever being exiled from either court."
I turned around in my chair and stared at him. His face was dark and unreadable against the bright sunlight. The glasses hid a great deal of his expression, but I was betting, glasses or no, he would have looked puzzled.
I heard Rhys's silk coat whispering as he walked across the floor toward us. I glanced at him. He raised his eyebrows at me. We both looked at Doyle.
"You don't know who she is, do you?" I asked.
"The name you mentioned, Maeve something — should I recognize it?"
"She's been the reigning queen of Hollywood for over fifty years," Rhys said.
Doyle just looked at us. "People from this Hollywood have approached the Queen and the court over the years to come and make movies, or allow them to film movies of their lives."
"Have you ever actually seen a movie?" I asked.
"I have seen movies at your apartment," he said.
I glanced at Rhys. "We have got to get all of them out to a movie."
Rhys half leaned, half sat on my desk. "We could all use a night out."
Kitto plucked at the hem of my short skirt, and I moved my chair so I could look down into his face. A bar of sunlight fell full across his face. For a second the light filled his almond-shaped eyes, turning the solid sapphire blue orbs paler as if they were water and I could see down, down into the sparkling blue depths to a place where white light danced. Then he closed his eyes, wincing against the brightness. He buried his face against my thigh, one small hand wrapped around my calf. He spoke without looking up. "I don't want to sss-ee a movie." He was slurring his Ss badly, which meant he was upset. Kitto worked very hard to talk normally. When you have a forked tongue, that's not easy.
I touched his head; his black curls were so soft, soft the way that a sidhe's hair is soft, not the roughness of goblin hair. "It's dark in the theater," I said, stroking his hair. "You could curl up on the floor beside me and never look at the screen."
He rubbed his head against my thigh like some giant cat. "Truly?" he asked.
"Truly," I said.
"You'll like it," Rhys said. "It's dark and sometimes the floor is so dirty that it sticks to your feet when you walk on it."
"I'll get my clothessss dirty," Kitto said.
"I wouldn't think a goblin would worry about staying clean.