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A Lick Of Frost :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 56 из 184It was the way a woman thought, and to be queen means you haveto be queen first and everything else second. My father had taught me that. Taught me that before an assassin had killed him. I pushed the thought away, and went to stand by my Killing Frost.
I would be the queen that my father had raised me to be. I would not embarrass Doyle by being less than he'd told me I could be.
I stood straight, drawing myself up to every inch of height that I had. The three-inch heels helped, although standing beside Frost's tall figure, I couldn't help but seem delicate.
But I stood there and did my duty and it tasted like ashes in my mouth.
CHAPTER 7
SIR HUGH BELENUS GAVE A LOW BOW THAT SHOWED THAT HIS fire-colored hair had started the day in a complicated braid, but singed ribbons trailed from its remnants. When he stood up, I could see that the front of his tunic, all the way through two layers of undershirts, had been blasted apart to expose the pale golden skin underneath. The clothing was ruined, scorched, but his body seemed untouched.
"Sir Hugh stood in front of Taranis at the end," Frost said. "He took the brunt of the blow meant for Abeloec." Frost said.
"What am I to say to that?" I asked, and my voice sounded completely normal. The very normality of it was almost shocking. A little voice in my own head thought, how can I sound so calm? Training? Shock?
"If Sir Hugh were not one of the elder sidhe, you could thank him for risking himself to save our warriors," Frost said.
I looked up at the tall man beside me. I stared all the way up to those gray eyes and found that they reflected a bare tree in a winter landscape, like a tiny snow globe caught in his eyes. Only his own magic or anxiety would fill his eyes with that image. Always before it had dizzied me to stare into Frost's eyes when they filled with that other place. Today, it seemed cool, calming. Today, he had the icy strength of winter in his eyes. A coldness that protected you, kept your emotions from eating you alive. I understood in that moment part of what had let Frost survive the queen's petty torments. He had embraced the coldness inside.
I touched his arm, and the world was a little steadier. There was something moving in the landscape of his eyes; something white, and horned. I had a glimpse of a white stag before Frost bent to kiss me. It was a chaste kiss, but that one gentle touch let me know that he understood what the calmness cost me. That kiss let me know that he understood what Doyle meant to me, and what he meant to me, and what he did not.
I turned back to the mirror with Frost's hand in mine.
I would be the queen that my father had raised me to be. I would not embarrass Doyle by being less than he'd told me I could be.
I stood straight, drawing myself up to every inch of height that I had. The three-inch heels helped, although standing beside Frost's tall figure, I couldn't help but seem delicate.
But I stood there and did my duty and it tasted like ashes in my mouth.
CHAPTER 7
SIR HUGH BELENUS GAVE A LOW BOW THAT SHOWED THAT HIS fire-colored hair had started the day in a complicated braid, but singed ribbons trailed from its remnants. When he stood up, I could see that the front of his tunic, all the way through two layers of undershirts, had been blasted apart to expose the pale golden skin underneath. The clothing was ruined, scorched, but his body seemed untouched.
"Sir Hugh stood in front of Taranis at the end," Frost said. "He took the brunt of the blow meant for Abeloec." Frost said.
"What am I to say to that?" I asked, and my voice sounded completely normal. The very normality of it was almost shocking. A little voice in my own head thought, how can I sound so calm? Training? Shock?
"If Sir Hugh were not one of the elder sidhe, you could thank him for risking himself to save our warriors," Frost said.
I looked up at the tall man beside me. I stared all the way up to those gray eyes and found that they reflected a bare tree in a winter landscape, like a tiny snow globe caught in his eyes. Only his own magic or anxiety would fill his eyes with that image. Always before it had dizzied me to stare into Frost's eyes when they filled with that other place. Today, it seemed cool, calming. Today, he had the icy strength of winter in his eyes. A coldness that protected you, kept your emotions from eating you alive. I understood in that moment part of what had let Frost survive the queen's petty torments. He had embraced the coldness inside.
I touched his arm, and the world was a little steadier. There was something moving in the landscape of his eyes; something white, and horned. I had a glimpse of a white stag before Frost bent to kiss me. It was a chaste kiss, but that one gentle touch let me know that he understood what the calmness cost me. That kiss let me know that he understood what Doyle meant to me, and what he meant to me, and what he did not.
I turned back to the mirror with Frost's hand in mine.