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A Stroke Of Midnight :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 269 из 293Frost came as the first of the guardsthat just carried weapons. He looked at me, and gave me a smile that seemed to be reserved just for me. If he had any of Doyle’s qualms about the new “tattoos” of power, they did not show. Maybe he was simply too relieved to see me awake. Or perhaps he worried less about power than Doyle did. Or maybe I didn’t understand my two men as much as I thought I did. Me, not understanding the men in my life? That I believed.
CHAPTER 37
THE STEW WAS THICK WITH BEEF, THE BROTH DARK AND HEAVY with a faint tang of some meaty ale to balance the sweetness of the onions. Maggie May knew my favorite dishes, and this one had been on the list since before my father and I left faerie for the human world, when I was six. My eyes got hot, and my throat tight. It was the same stew it had always been, and it was nice to have something that hadn’t changed, something that was the same as it had always been.
“Merry,” Galen said, “are you crying?”
I shook my head, then nodded.
He put his butterfly-free arm around my shoulders, hugging me close. I must have bent over too much, because the moth on my stomach fluttered frantically. The feel of it struggling in my skin made the good stew roll uneasily. I sat up very straight. I had good posture, but until the moth was truly a tattoo, no slumping.
“Do you hurt?” Doyle asked.
I shook my head.
“You flinched,” he said.
“The moth didn’t like me slumping,” I said. My voice was much steadier than my eyes. My voice didn’t sound like I was crying, not one little bit.
Kitto moved between the table he’d set up, and raised his finger to my face. He came away with a tear shining on the tip of his finger. He raised it to his lips, and licked my tear from his skin.
It made me smile, and the tears fell a little faster because of it, as if I’d been holding my eyes very still to keep the tears from falling. “The stew is one of my favorite dishes. It hasn’t changed. Everything else is changing, and I’m no longer certain that all the changes will be good.”
I leaned into the warmth of Galen’s body, and gazed at the others. I suddenly knew what I wanted. “Kiss me,” I said.
“Who are you speaking to?” Frost asked.
“All of you.”
Galen bent down toward me, and I raised my face to him. His lips touched mine, and my body moved of its own volition. My arms swept up his body, and we embraced as we kissed.
CHAPTER 37
THE STEW WAS THICK WITH BEEF, THE BROTH DARK AND HEAVY with a faint tang of some meaty ale to balance the sweetness of the onions. Maggie May knew my favorite dishes, and this one had been on the list since before my father and I left faerie for the human world, when I was six. My eyes got hot, and my throat tight. It was the same stew it had always been, and it was nice to have something that hadn’t changed, something that was the same as it had always been.
“Merry,” Galen said, “are you crying?”
I shook my head, then nodded.
He put his butterfly-free arm around my shoulders, hugging me close. I must have bent over too much, because the moth on my stomach fluttered frantically. The feel of it struggling in my skin made the good stew roll uneasily. I sat up very straight. I had good posture, but until the moth was truly a tattoo, no slumping.
“Do you hurt?” Doyle asked.
I shook my head.
“You flinched,” he said.
“The moth didn’t like me slumping,” I said. My voice was much steadier than my eyes. My voice didn’t sound like I was crying, not one little bit.
Kitto moved between the table he’d set up, and raised his finger to my face. He came away with a tear shining on the tip of his finger. He raised it to his lips, and licked my tear from his skin.
It made me smile, and the tears fell a little faster because of it, as if I’d been holding my eyes very still to keep the tears from falling. “The stew is one of my favorite dishes. It hasn’t changed. Everything else is changing, and I’m no longer certain that all the changes will be good.”
I leaned into the warmth of Galen’s body, and gazed at the others. I suddenly knew what I wanted. “Kiss me,” I said.
“Who are you speaking to?” Frost asked.
“All of you.”
Galen bent down toward me, and I raised my face to him. His lips touched mine, and my body moved of its own volition. My arms swept up his body, and we embraced as we kissed.