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A Stroke Of Midnight :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 115 из 293He flung the lesser white of his cloak back over one arm, and that arm was bare. I had a moment to wonder what he was wearing under the long cloak and above the boots that I could see. His arm shone in the light, like white metal, a gleam that no true flesh ever held.
The woman’s gaze went to him again, as if she could not help herself.
“Stop it, all of you,” I said. “Leave her alone.”
“I am doing nothing to her,” Frost said.
I looked at his arrogant face and knew he believed that. Knew that some part of him never understood how handsome he was, not really. The queen’s centuries of rejection had left their scars on our Killing Frost.
I patted his arm and turned to Rhys. “Since she seems less impressed with you and Arzhel, one of you gets to shepherd her through faerie.”
“Me, too,” Galen said.
I looked at him.
He gave a wry smile. “She isn’t drooling over me either.”
“Which one of us do you want to assign to her?” Rhys was shaking his head watching Carmichael look from one to the other of the men. The look on her face was somewhere between a kid overwhelmed in a candy store, or a small animal surrounded by predators; half eager yet half afraid.
“You choose, Rhys. You’re in charge of guarding the police while they’re inside.”
“Not Frost?”
“He’s in charge of guarding me until Doyle gets back.” The words made me wonder again where my Darkness was, and where his spell had led him.
It was as if Frost read my mind, because he said, “I will send someone to see where he is.”
I nodded.
“Galen,” he said. “Find out where Doyle is, and what he has discovered.”
I almost protested. If Doyle, Usna, and Cathbodua were all outgunned, then Galen was not enough to tip the balance, or so I feared.
I actually took a breath to say something, but Galen turned to me with a smile that wasn’t entirely happy. “It’s okay, Merry, I’ll do whatever needs doing to bring him back safe to you.”
I opened my mouth, and he touched his fingers to my lips. “Shhh,” he said, and leaned in to lay a kiss where his fingers had laid their warmth. “You showed the world how you feel about me. That’s enough. I don’t have to own your whole heart.” He left us at a jog, hand on his sword hilt, the thin braid of his hair bouncing against his back.
“Galen!” I said. But he didn’t look back, and then the hallway turned, and he was gone. A feeling of foreboding came over me.
The woman’s gaze went to him again, as if she could not help herself.
“Stop it, all of you,” I said. “Leave her alone.”
“I am doing nothing to her,” Frost said.
I looked at his arrogant face and knew he believed that. Knew that some part of him never understood how handsome he was, not really. The queen’s centuries of rejection had left their scars on our Killing Frost.
I patted his arm and turned to Rhys. “Since she seems less impressed with you and Arzhel, one of you gets to shepherd her through faerie.”
“Me, too,” Galen said.
I looked at him.
He gave a wry smile. “She isn’t drooling over me either.”
“Which one of us do you want to assign to her?” Rhys was shaking his head watching Carmichael look from one to the other of the men. The look on her face was somewhere between a kid overwhelmed in a candy store, or a small animal surrounded by predators; half eager yet half afraid.
“You choose, Rhys. You’re in charge of guarding the police while they’re inside.”
“Not Frost?”
“He’s in charge of guarding me until Doyle gets back.” The words made me wonder again where my Darkness was, and where his spell had led him.
It was as if Frost read my mind, because he said, “I will send someone to see where he is.”
I nodded.
“Galen,” he said. “Find out where Doyle is, and what he has discovered.”
I almost protested. If Doyle, Usna, and Cathbodua were all outgunned, then Galen was not enough to tip the balance, or so I feared.
I actually took a breath to say something, but Galen turned to me with a smile that wasn’t entirely happy. “It’s okay, Merry, I’ll do whatever needs doing to bring him back safe to you.”
I opened my mouth, and he touched his fingers to my lips. “Shhh,” he said, and leaned in to lay a kiss where his fingers had laid their warmth. “You showed the world how you feel about me. That’s enough. I don’t have to own your whole heart.” He left us at a jog, hand on his sword hilt, the thin braid of his hair bouncing against his back.
“Galen!” I said. But he didn’t look back, and then the hallway turned, and he was gone. A feeling of foreboding came over me.