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A Stroke Of Midnight :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 182 из 293Itwasn’t for my consort of years but for the flavor of the day. Consort of the moment, perhaps.
The last time I’d sat here, the consort’s chair had been occupied by Sholto, Lord of That Which Passes Between. It was only as I took my throne that I realized that Sholto and his sluagh weren’t at their table near the door. Nor were they at the queen’s back as guards. The sluagh were not here. He was king of his own court. The goblins were not here either, but they were often absent unless it was a planned event or a major holiday. This was neither, but Sholto never missed an occasion at court. He wanted too desperately to be accepted as sidhe to miss one.
Tyler, the Queen’s pet human, curled at her feet. She asked, “Where is your little goblin?”
She meant Kitto. “He is helping Rhys watch over the police while they are inside faerie.”
“Has there been some problem?” She was letting Kieran sweat, or seeing whether he would. Madenn was openly weeping, and if she hadn’t been part of a plot to kill Galen, I might have felt sorry for her.
I told her briefly of the effect the entrance to faerie had had on Walters and his people. She seemed most interested.
“I wouldn’t think that your little goblin would be a good choice to protect the police.”
“He’s almost guaranteed not to bespell anyone by accident.”
“Not sidhe enough for that,” she said.
I controlled the spurt of anger that followed her comment. “He became fully sidhe during an earthquake in California.”
“The earth moved for you, how charming.” She was being both terribly urbane and slyly insulting. I wasn’t sure my nerves were good enough to keep up the small talk for much longer.
“Have you fucked anyone else today besides Mistral?” she asked.
“Actual intercourse, no.”
“Then, Mistral, take your place on the dais, for Goddess knows it will probably be your last chance to sit here.” I didn’t like the implied threat in her words, but I couldn’t argue that Mistral deserved the chair.
Frost had led the other men to fan out around me like good guards—that is, those who weren’t guarding our prisoners. Barinthus was left standing on the floor. She looked at him, and it was not friendly. “Take your place with her guards, Barinthus. For it is where you have chosen to stand.”
He hesitated a moment, then bowed and went wide around her, to stand on the far side of my guards. I think he was going to try to be as invisible as he could manage until we could figure out what had angered her.
The last time I’d sat here, the consort’s chair had been occupied by Sholto, Lord of That Which Passes Between. It was only as I took my throne that I realized that Sholto and his sluagh weren’t at their table near the door. Nor were they at the queen’s back as guards. The sluagh were not here. He was king of his own court. The goblins were not here either, but they were often absent unless it was a planned event or a major holiday. This was neither, but Sholto never missed an occasion at court. He wanted too desperately to be accepted as sidhe to miss one.
Tyler, the Queen’s pet human, curled at her feet. She asked, “Where is your little goblin?”
She meant Kitto. “He is helping Rhys watch over the police while they are inside faerie.”
“Has there been some problem?” She was letting Kieran sweat, or seeing whether he would. Madenn was openly weeping, and if she hadn’t been part of a plot to kill Galen, I might have felt sorry for her.
I told her briefly of the effect the entrance to faerie had had on Walters and his people. She seemed most interested.
“I wouldn’t think that your little goblin would be a good choice to protect the police.”
“He’s almost guaranteed not to bespell anyone by accident.”
“Not sidhe enough for that,” she said.
I controlled the spurt of anger that followed her comment. “He became fully sidhe during an earthquake in California.”
“The earth moved for you, how charming.” She was being both terribly urbane and slyly insulting. I wasn’t sure my nerves were good enough to keep up the small talk for much longer.
“Have you fucked anyone else today besides Mistral?” she asked.
“Actual intercourse, no.”
“Then, Mistral, take your place on the dais, for Goddess knows it will probably be your last chance to sit here.” I didn’t like the implied threat in her words, but I couldn’t argue that Mistral deserved the chair.
Frost had led the other men to fan out around me like good guards—that is, those who weren’t guarding our prisoners. Barinthus was left standing on the floor. She looked at him, and it was not friendly. “Take your place with her guards, Barinthus. For it is where you have chosen to stand.”
He hesitated a moment, then bowed and went wide around her, to stand on the far side of my guards. I think he was going to try to be as invisible as he could manage until we could figure out what had angered her.