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A Stroke Of Midnight :: Гамильтон Лорел
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“Two traitors, Dormath, two in one house. How can I trust that there are not more?” She was making idle circles with one finger on the arm of her throne.
“Is not the same thing true of Blodewedd’s house?” he asked.
“Do not drag me into this, Dormath,” Blodewedd said. “You who bear the name of your own dog, for you have shamed your true name.”
“I have shamed nothing.”
“Children,” Andais said, her voice light, almost playful. The sound made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. “You see what mercy gets you as a ruler, Meredith. Do you understand now? Mercy is for the weak, and the dying.”
“I know how Kieran has interpreted your actions.”
She looked at me, and I really didn’t want that much of her attention in this mood, but I had it. “And how is that?”
“That if you would not kill someone for trying to kill me, then you would do even less to someone who tried to kill Galen.”
“Do you think he had the right of that? Do you think he has no punishment coming?”
“I think Siobhan should be executed and Kieran be made an example of.”
“An example how, if not executed?” she asked.
I licked my suddenly dry lips. “I had not thought that far, Aunt Andais.”
“Ah, but I have, and that is the difference between being queen and being princess.” She opened those red, red lips to say something awful, but the big double doors crashed open, and Doyle appeared.
CHAPTER 25
USNA AND CATHBODUA CAME BEHIND DOYLE, DRAGGING SOMEONE between them. Someone wearing a white fur cloak that was decorated with bright spots of crimson.
“Darkness,” Andais said, “how good of you to join us. Who are you bringing so unceremoniously before us?” Her voice still purred with a satisfied tone, promising pain to someone. Doyle had just given her another choice of victims.
“Gwennin, the white lord, a little worse for wear.”
Gwennin, I knew, was no friend of Cel’s. He was no friend of anyone he considered pure Unseelie. He had been one of the last cast out of the Seelie Court, and he still acted as if he might someday go back there. The Seelie might welcome back an exile from among the humans, but once you became Unseelie, you were unclean and unforgivable.
I watched Doyle stalk toward me. He was the tall, dark hunter, the grim figure who had frightened me as a child, but I had to fight an urge to tell him to come to me. I wanted his arms around me. I wanted to be held, to feel safe.
“Two traitors, Dormath, two in one house. How can I trust that there are not more?” She was making idle circles with one finger on the arm of her throne.
“Is not the same thing true of Blodewedd’s house?” he asked.
“Do not drag me into this, Dormath,” Blodewedd said. “You who bear the name of your own dog, for you have shamed your true name.”
“I have shamed nothing.”
“Children,” Andais said, her voice light, almost playful. The sound made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. “You see what mercy gets you as a ruler, Meredith. Do you understand now? Mercy is for the weak, and the dying.”
“I know how Kieran has interpreted your actions.”
She looked at me, and I really didn’t want that much of her attention in this mood, but I had it. “And how is that?”
“That if you would not kill someone for trying to kill me, then you would do even less to someone who tried to kill Galen.”
“Do you think he had the right of that? Do you think he has no punishment coming?”
“I think Siobhan should be executed and Kieran be made an example of.”
“An example how, if not executed?” she asked.
I licked my suddenly dry lips. “I had not thought that far, Aunt Andais.”
“Ah, but I have, and that is the difference between being queen and being princess.” She opened those red, red lips to say something awful, but the big double doors crashed open, and Doyle appeared.
CHAPTER 25
USNA AND CATHBODUA CAME BEHIND DOYLE, DRAGGING SOMEONE between them. Someone wearing a white fur cloak that was decorated with bright spots of crimson.
“Darkness,” Andais said, “how good of you to join us. Who are you bringing so unceremoniously before us?” Her voice still purred with a satisfied tone, promising pain to someone. Doyle had just given her another choice of victims.
“Gwennin, the white lord, a little worse for wear.”
Gwennin, I knew, was no friend of Cel’s. He was no friend of anyone he considered pure Unseelie. He had been one of the last cast out of the Seelie Court, and he still acted as if he might someday go back there. The Seelie might welcome back an exile from among the humans, but once you became Unseelie, you were unclean and unforgivable.
I watched Doyle stalk toward me. He was the tall, dark hunter, the grim figure who had frightened me as a child, but I had to fight an urge to tell him to come to me. I wanted his arms around me. I wanted to be held, to feel safe.