A Stroke Of Midnight   ::   Гамильтон Лорел

I touched the moth on me, and itstill flicked its wings, irritated at the touch. “Mine’s still alive.”

Doyle crawled up on the bed, and for once I moved back from him. “Explain, Doyle.” I put a hand up, not touching, but ready to keep him away from my body.

“It may be that your mark of power simply struck out in irritation. They can do such things.” He was above me now, on all fours, so that his body straddled mine but did not quite touch me. “But if it is a calling, then it will enable you to do just what you wish. You will be able to find Rhys in the dark or the light. You will have only to think of him, and your mark will guide you to him. Some of them would alert the bearer of the mark if the one they had called was in danger or injured.”

“A true calling could do many things,” Frost said.

“There has not been a true calling among us for centuries,” Hawthorne said.

“How can you doubt,” Adair said, and he had removed his helmet, so I could see him smiling. He looked so sure of it all. “She is our ameraudur.”

Doyle started to lie down on top of me, but I kept my hand in the way. I had more questions before we continued with our little experiment. The moment my hand touched his bare chest, the pain was sharp and immediate. But it wasn’t my hand that hurt, it was my chest, exactly where I touched Doyle. Blood trickled down his chest, just below the silver nipple ring. Other than a tightness around his eyes, he didn’t react to the pain at all.

“That answers one question.” Nicca moved to the far side of the bed, lounging and seemingly perfectly at ease. “It isn’t just the mark not wanting to be touched.”

Doyle bent down to give me a quick kiss. Nothing hurt, and a tightness in my shoulders eased that I hadn’t even realized was there.

He smiled down at me, a quick flash in his dark face. “You did say you wanted a kiss.”

“Why does this please you so much? It bloody hurts.”

The smile faded. “I am never happy to cause you pain, Meredith, but that you are marking us, that is a great thing.”

“Why?” I asked.

“It means you are a power.” Rhys did not look pleased. “Once I marked others, but when I joined the queen’s service, she marked me. Then even that faded, and there were no more marks, not like this.” He ran his fingers lightly over the raised and reddened skin.

Hafwyn spoke in a low voice. “Do you want me to bandage them?”

“Until they heal, yes,” Doyle said, and slid off the bed.