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A Stroke Of Midnight :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 261 из 293The figure was so pale, the room so dark, that it was almost as if the figure materialized from that darkness like a ghost. Though I knew he was not.
The glint of firelight made me certain of who it was. “Ivi,” I said, and was not happy. He had scared me.
“Why unhappy to see me, Princess? I did offer up my cloak to guard your body.”
“Why sit in the corner? And what was funny?”
“To see the fear on your face at waking here. I sat in the dark, because I am too pale to hide closer to the fire.” The smile was gone by the time he came to stand at the foot of the bed. He leaned a shoulder against the big carved bedpost, huddling the cloak around him as if he was cold. His pale hair with its decoration of vines and leaves was trapped inside the cloak, so that it made a sort of hood around his face of his own hair.
“Where is everyone else?” I asked.
“Recruiting,” Ivi said.
Galen raised enough to look at them both. He was lying on his stomach. “Stop being so closemouthed and just tell us what has happened while we slept.” He sounded angry where I had sounded afraid.
I heard the door to the queen’s bathroom open, before I saw by the fire’s glow that it was Rhys in the doorway. He, too, was wearing a cloak around his body so that only his face and hair were bare to the dim light. “You’ve missed lots,” Rhys said. He looked tired.
He came to stand beside the bed a little ahead of Ivi at his corner.
“So much in fact,” Doyle said, “that I am not certain where to begin.”
“Why doesn’t that make me feel better?” Galen asked.
“He didn’t mean it to make us feel better,” Nicca said. “He’s being the Darkness, all dour and frightening.”
I started to sit up, and something moved on my stomach. I jumped, and looked down, and found that I hadn’t dreamed it. There was a moth on me, exactly where the wound had been. I stayed propped on one elbow, and reached cautiously to touch its upper wings, all charcoal grey and black. It flicked its wings at me, as if irritated by the touch, flashing the bright red and black underwings, like blood and darkness turned to glitter. Its wings brushed against my stomach, and I swore I felt something more solid inside me. I reached toward it again, for the head with its feathery antennae. It didn’t react until I touched it, then it flicked its wings again, but it also struggled a little. I felt it move inside me because the lower half of the body was embedded in my flesh.
I drew my fingers back, and I had the color of its wings on my fingertips, as if I’d touched a real moth.
The glint of firelight made me certain of who it was. “Ivi,” I said, and was not happy. He had scared me.
“Why unhappy to see me, Princess? I did offer up my cloak to guard your body.”
“Why sit in the corner? And what was funny?”
“To see the fear on your face at waking here. I sat in the dark, because I am too pale to hide closer to the fire.” The smile was gone by the time he came to stand at the foot of the bed. He leaned a shoulder against the big carved bedpost, huddling the cloak around him as if he was cold. His pale hair with its decoration of vines and leaves was trapped inside the cloak, so that it made a sort of hood around his face of his own hair.
“Where is everyone else?” I asked.
“Recruiting,” Ivi said.
Galen raised enough to look at them both. He was lying on his stomach. “Stop being so closemouthed and just tell us what has happened while we slept.” He sounded angry where I had sounded afraid.
I heard the door to the queen’s bathroom open, before I saw by the fire’s glow that it was Rhys in the doorway. He, too, was wearing a cloak around his body so that only his face and hair were bare to the dim light. “You’ve missed lots,” Rhys said. He looked tired.
He came to stand beside the bed a little ahead of Ivi at his corner.
“So much in fact,” Doyle said, “that I am not certain where to begin.”
“Why doesn’t that make me feel better?” Galen asked.
“He didn’t mean it to make us feel better,” Nicca said. “He’s being the Darkness, all dour and frightening.”
I started to sit up, and something moved on my stomach. I jumped, and looked down, and found that I hadn’t dreamed it. There was a moth on me, exactly where the wound had been. I stayed propped on one elbow, and reached cautiously to touch its upper wings, all charcoal grey and black. It flicked its wings at me, as if irritated by the touch, flashing the bright red and black underwings, like blood and darkness turned to glitter. Its wings brushed against my stomach, and I swore I felt something more solid inside me. I reached toward it again, for the head with its feathery antennae. It didn’t react until I touched it, then it flicked its wings again, but it also struggled a little. I felt it move inside me because the lower half of the body was embedded in my flesh.
I drew my fingers back, and I had the color of its wings on my fingertips, as if I’d touched a real moth.