A Lick Of Frost   ::   Гамильтон Лорел

"We see the illusion of it, m'lady."

I could not see what she did, but she said, "Touch them."

"The king can make illusion touchable, too, m'lady Elasaid."

I realized that they had seen lies so long that they no longer recognized truth. All was doubt for them.

The blond guard had stepped a little in front of us, helping the dogs hide us from view. He turned to Hugh and whispered, "Shall I call?"

Hugh gave a small nod.

I expected the guard to take out a hand mirror or use the shiny surface of his blade, but he didn't. He reached into the leather pouch at his side and took out a very modern cell phone.

I must have looked surprised because he said, "We have reception near this room. It's why we put the press in here."

It was perfectly logical. He moved back, and others moved, gracefully, to help hide him from the view of the guards before the doors.

He spoke quietly, "We are outside the doors with the injured princess. The guards will not let us pass."

One of the guards near the door said, "Go back to your rooms. None of you have any business here."

The blond guard said, "Yes, Yes. No." He folded the phone shut, placed it back in his leather bag, and took his post at our side. He whispered to Hugh, so quietly that even I couldn't hear it.

The group of nobles and their hounds bunched up around me. If it came to an actual fight with swords and magic, they had left themselves no room to maneuver, Then I realized what they had done. They were shielding me. Shielding me with their tall, slender bodies. Shielding me with their immortal beauty. Me, who they had once despised, and they were risking all they were, all they had ever been, to keep me safe.

They were not my friends. Most did not know me. Some had made it clear when I was a child that they did not like me. They found me too human, too mixed of blood to be sidhe. What had Taranis done to them to make them so desperate that they would defy him like this for me?

There was a stirring in the front of the glittering throng around me, almost the way a field of flowers moves in a strong wind.

I heard the guard near the door, his voice rough enough to recognize among all the sweeter voices. "You are not allowed farther into our sithen, sir, by order of the king."

"Unless you want to fight us, we are coming through this door."

I knew the voice. It was Major Walters, head of the special branch of the St. Louis Police Department that specialized in dealing with the fey. It had been an honorary title for years, until I came home.