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A Stroke Of Midnight :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 152 из 293“My sweet, tell me, why does Prince Cel want Galen out of Meredith’s bed?”
She swallowed hard enough that I heard it across the room, but she answered, “The prophecy said the green man would bring life back to the court.”
“What prophecy?” Aisling asked.
“Cel paid a prophet to tell him if Meredith would be a true threat. She would bring life back to the court with the help of the green man and the chalice. Galen was the only green man that she took with her. When we saw what she did at the press conference, we knew that he was her green knight.”
“Has it occurred to any of you that green man is a metaphor for vegetative deities, or even another name for the consort?” I asked.
Melangell ignored me, but when Aisling asked the same question, she answered, “Prince Cel said the prophecy meant Galen.”
“And do you believe everything Cel tells you?” I asked. When Aisling repeated the question, she answered, “Yes.”
“Fool,” Hafwyn said from behind us.
“What else did the prophecy say?” Aisling asked.
“That if someone of flesh and blood sat on the throne, Cel would die.”
“What did he think ‘flesh and blood’ meant?”
“Mortal.”
“You all must have been frantic when the princess returned with flesh and blood as her hands of power.”
“Yes,” Melangell said.
“Is there anything else Cel has done that we should know about?” Aisling asked, and I made a mental note that he was a thorough man.
She bent forward as if in pain. Hawthorne had moved back, as if he wasn’t comfortable touching her. His power was not similar to either of theirs, so maybe he was in danger of being bespelled by Melangell. Whatever the reason, when her hands moved, the cloth that tied them unwound, and since Hawthorne was turned away, he did not see it. Aisling went for his sword, but he was kneeling and at a bad angle. Her hands came up, and she clawed her eyes out while we watched. Only when blood and wet liquid ran down her face did she stop.
“You cannot force more secrets from me now,” she said, and her voice was full of her usual rage.
Aisling let his half-drawn sword go back into its sheath. “Melangell, you cannot unsee me. I told you that.”
I couldn’t tell if she was crying or if it was just pieces of her eyes. “The sight of your shining face will be the last thing I will ever see. I hate you for this, but I cannot regret it.”
“Oh, Melangell,” he said, and he touched her face.
She laid her bloody, drenched cheek against his hand the way a lover would.
She swallowed hard enough that I heard it across the room, but she answered, “The prophecy said the green man would bring life back to the court.”
“What prophecy?” Aisling asked.
“Cel paid a prophet to tell him if Meredith would be a true threat. She would bring life back to the court with the help of the green man and the chalice. Galen was the only green man that she took with her. When we saw what she did at the press conference, we knew that he was her green knight.”
“Has it occurred to any of you that green man is a metaphor for vegetative deities, or even another name for the consort?” I asked.
Melangell ignored me, but when Aisling asked the same question, she answered, “Prince Cel said the prophecy meant Galen.”
“And do you believe everything Cel tells you?” I asked. When Aisling repeated the question, she answered, “Yes.”
“Fool,” Hafwyn said from behind us.
“What else did the prophecy say?” Aisling asked.
“That if someone of flesh and blood sat on the throne, Cel would die.”
“What did he think ‘flesh and blood’ meant?”
“Mortal.”
“You all must have been frantic when the princess returned with flesh and blood as her hands of power.”
“Yes,” Melangell said.
“Is there anything else Cel has done that we should know about?” Aisling asked, and I made a mental note that he was a thorough man.
She bent forward as if in pain. Hawthorne had moved back, as if he wasn’t comfortable touching her. His power was not similar to either of theirs, so maybe he was in danger of being bespelled by Melangell. Whatever the reason, when her hands moved, the cloth that tied them unwound, and since Hawthorne was turned away, he did not see it. Aisling went for his sword, but he was kneeling and at a bad angle. Her hands came up, and she clawed her eyes out while we watched. Only when blood and wet liquid ran down her face did she stop.
“You cannot force more secrets from me now,” she said, and her voice was full of her usual rage.
Aisling let his half-drawn sword go back into its sheath. “Melangell, you cannot unsee me. I told you that.”
I couldn’t tell if she was crying or if it was just pieces of her eyes. “The sight of your shining face will be the last thing I will ever see. I hate you for this, but I cannot regret it.”
“Oh, Melangell,” he said, and he touched her face.
She laid her bloody, drenched cheek against his hand the way a lover would.