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A Stroke Of Midnight :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 28 из 293But a good forensics team might.”
“There are spells for tracing a wound to the weapon that made it,” Doyle said.
“Yes, and you tried those spells when you found my father’s body in the meadow. You did your spells, yet you never found the weapons that killed him.” I did my best to make those words empty, to have nothing in my head with them. My father’s death, like the capital of Spain. Just a fact, nothing more.
Doyle drew a deep breath. “I failed Prince Essus that day, Princess Meredith, and you.”
“You failed because it was sidhe that killed him. It was someone who had enough magic to thwart your spells. Don’t you see, Doyle, whoever did this is as good at magic as we are. But they won’t know modern forensics. They won’t be able to protect themselves against science.”
Onilwyn stepped away from the guards. He was blockier than any of the other sidhe, tall but stocky, and yet he always moved with grace, as if he’d borrowed his movements from someone more slender. His hair fell in a long wavy ponytail over the back of his black suit and white shirt. Black, the queen’s color, and Prince Cel’s color. A very popular color here at the Unseelie Court. His hair was a green so dark it had black highlights. His eyes were pale green with a starburst in the center around his pupil.
“You cannot mean to bring human warriors into our land?”
“If you mean human policeman, yes, that is exactly what I mean to do.”
“You will open us up to that over the death of one human and the death of a cook?”
“Do you think the death of a human is less important than the death of a sidhe?” I looked him straight in the face and was happy to see that he realized his faux pas. I watched him remember that I was part human.
“What is one death, even two, over the damage it will do to our court in the eyes of the world?” He tried to recover, and it wasn’t a bad job of it.
“Do you think the death of a cook is less important than the death of a nobleman?” I asked, ignoring his attempt to fix things.
He smiled then, and it was arrogant, and so very Onilwyn. “Of course, I believe that the life of a noble-born sidhe is worth more than the life of a servant, or a human. So would you if you were pure sidhe.”
“Then I’m glad that I’m not pure sidhe,” I said. I was angry now, and I fought not to have it translate to power, not to start to glow, and raise the stakes of this fight.
“There are spells for tracing a wound to the weapon that made it,” Doyle said.
“Yes, and you tried those spells when you found my father’s body in the meadow. You did your spells, yet you never found the weapons that killed him.” I did my best to make those words empty, to have nothing in my head with them. My father’s death, like the capital of Spain. Just a fact, nothing more.
Doyle drew a deep breath. “I failed Prince Essus that day, Princess Meredith, and you.”
“You failed because it was sidhe that killed him. It was someone who had enough magic to thwart your spells. Don’t you see, Doyle, whoever did this is as good at magic as we are. But they won’t know modern forensics. They won’t be able to protect themselves against science.”
Onilwyn stepped away from the guards. He was blockier than any of the other sidhe, tall but stocky, and yet he always moved with grace, as if he’d borrowed his movements from someone more slender. His hair fell in a long wavy ponytail over the back of his black suit and white shirt. Black, the queen’s color, and Prince Cel’s color. A very popular color here at the Unseelie Court. His hair was a green so dark it had black highlights. His eyes were pale green with a starburst in the center around his pupil.
“You cannot mean to bring human warriors into our land?”
“If you mean human policeman, yes, that is exactly what I mean to do.”
“You will open us up to that over the death of one human and the death of a cook?”
“Do you think the death of a human is less important than the death of a sidhe?” I looked him straight in the face and was happy to see that he realized his faux pas. I watched him remember that I was part human.
“What is one death, even two, over the damage it will do to our court in the eyes of the world?” He tried to recover, and it wasn’t a bad job of it.
“Do you think the death of a cook is less important than the death of a nobleman?” I asked, ignoring his attempt to fix things.
He smiled then, and it was arrogant, and so very Onilwyn. “Of course, I believe that the life of a noble-born sidhe is worth more than the life of a servant, or a human. So would you if you were pure sidhe.”
“Then I’m glad that I’m not pure sidhe,” I said. I was angry now, and I fought not to have it translate to power, not to start to glow, and raise the stakes of this fight.