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A Stroke Of Midnight :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 205 из 293Though trapped in her human-sized form, she was demi-fey. Beatrice was cursed but she was not Andais’s or yours. The murderer is one of mine, the victim is one of mine, and you did not give me even the courtesy of a message. No other court would have been so ignored.” She moved close enough that the air from her wings brushed my hair against my face. “You would have at the very least contacted Kurag, Goblin King. He would not have had to learn of such a thing from rumor and gossip as I did. Sholto, King of the Sluagh, sat in the consort’s throne for you last night. You would not have arrested his people without asking him first.” She flew to the ceiling, and stayed there fluttering like an angry butterfly back and forth above us.
I watched her, all white and glittering, all hurt pride and wounded arrogance, and fear. Fear that her court had become so little among us that she truly was queen in name only. She was right.
“I should have sent you a messenger when we arrested Peasblossom. I should have sent you a message when we discovered that one of the murdered was a demi-fey. You are right, I would have notified Kurag, Goblin King. I would have contacted Sholto. I would not have done to them what I have done to you.”
“You are a princess of the sidhe,” Frost said. “You explain yourself to no one.”
I shook my head and patted his arm. “Frost, I spend a great deal of time explaining myself to everyone.”
“Not to demi-fey,” he said, and his face was arrogant, cold, and heartbreakingly handsome.
“Frost, either the demi-fey are a court unto themselves, worthy of respect, or they are not. Queen Niceven is within her rights to be angry about this.”
His hand gripped the hilt of his sword, but he didn’t say anything. To insult them beyond a certain point was to break them as a court, as a people. He wasn’t willing to do that.
“Merry’s right.” Galen stood slowly, being as careful where he put his feet as I had been. He still held the tiny brown winged fey asleep in his hand. “I may not like Queen Niceven and the demi-fey, but she is a queen and they are a court. We should have sent someone to tell her what was happening.” He gazed up at the tiny queen. “I don’t know if you care what I think, but I’m sorry.”
She came slowly down from the ceiling. Her wings had slowed, fanning gently, so that the illusion of some graceful moth was back. “After what we did to you, it is you who offers us an apology.” She looked at him, as if she had never truly seen him before. “You fear us, hate us.
I watched her, all white and glittering, all hurt pride and wounded arrogance, and fear. Fear that her court had become so little among us that she truly was queen in name only. She was right.
“I should have sent you a messenger when we arrested Peasblossom. I should have sent you a message when we discovered that one of the murdered was a demi-fey. You are right, I would have notified Kurag, Goblin King. I would have contacted Sholto. I would not have done to them what I have done to you.”
“You are a princess of the sidhe,” Frost said. “You explain yourself to no one.”
I shook my head and patted his arm. “Frost, I spend a great deal of time explaining myself to everyone.”
“Not to demi-fey,” he said, and his face was arrogant, cold, and heartbreakingly handsome.
“Frost, either the demi-fey are a court unto themselves, worthy of respect, or they are not. Queen Niceven is within her rights to be angry about this.”
His hand gripped the hilt of his sword, but he didn’t say anything. To insult them beyond a certain point was to break them as a court, as a people. He wasn’t willing to do that.
“Merry’s right.” Galen stood slowly, being as careful where he put his feet as I had been. He still held the tiny brown winged fey asleep in his hand. “I may not like Queen Niceven and the demi-fey, but she is a queen and they are a court. We should have sent someone to tell her what was happening.” He gazed up at the tiny queen. “I don’t know if you care what I think, but I’m sorry.”
She came slowly down from the ceiling. Her wings had slowed, fanning gently, so that the illusion of some graceful moth was back. “After what we did to you, it is you who offers us an apology.” She looked at him, as if she had never truly seen him before. “You fear us, hate us.