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A Stroke Of Midnight :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 283 из 293“Yes, aunt, I find itterrible.”
“But you cannot argue with the results, aye?”
I could have, but I chose to be indirect about it. “If you tell me it’s Gwennin, then I will believe you, but in truth I would not have known him.”
“Oh, it is he.” She looked down at the figure at her side, tightening her grip on his body. He moaned, and that did not make her happy enough. She jerked again, and that made him scream again. That pleased her.
“What reason did he give for killing Beatrice?” I asked the question without implying that everyone standing there would have confessed to anything, from the Kennedy assasination to the rape and pillage of Rome, to make the pain stop. No one could have withstood what she had done to him.
“She had come to his bed, then suddenly she began to refuse him.”
“He killed Beatrice because she refused to continue as his lover?” I fought to keep the incredulity out of my voice.
Andais pulled, sharp and sudden, tearing another shriek from his throat. “Tell her what you told me,” she said.
He coughed to clear his throat, and the sound was wet. He spat blood, then finally managed to speak. His voice was as broken as his body, hoarse and raw from screaming. “I did not mean for her to die. She is fey, immortal. I did not use cold iron or steel. It should not have been a killing blow.” He coughed again, and started to fall flatter to the ground, but Andais kept her grip on his intestines, so he struggled to prop himself up on one skinless arm.
When he had recovered a bit, I asked, “You stabbed her in the back because she refused to continue as your lover?”
“She was a distraction, not a lover.”
“A distraction?” I said. “Because she was lesser fey, and they can’t be lovers?”
“Yes,” he said in that raw voice.
Strangely, I wasn’t feeling as sorry for him as I had moments ago. It was still pitiable, and no one deserved such treatment, but… “If she meant nothing to you, then why did her refusal of your attentions drive you to murder her?”
“I did not mean her death.” His voice broke, not from tears but from the abuse Andais had forced on him.
“But, Gwennin, if she truly was only a distraction, you could have found a dozen like her. Many lesser fey would have jumped at the chance to bed a sidhe lord.”
His formless face, that held only the shadow of his bone structure to let me know it was indeed him, could give me no emotion. Andais had stripped that away with his skin and flesh. But his voice held something.
“But you cannot argue with the results, aye?”
I could have, but I chose to be indirect about it. “If you tell me it’s Gwennin, then I will believe you, but in truth I would not have known him.”
“Oh, it is he.” She looked down at the figure at her side, tightening her grip on his body. He moaned, and that did not make her happy enough. She jerked again, and that made him scream again. That pleased her.
“What reason did he give for killing Beatrice?” I asked the question without implying that everyone standing there would have confessed to anything, from the Kennedy assasination to the rape and pillage of Rome, to make the pain stop. No one could have withstood what she had done to him.
“She had come to his bed, then suddenly she began to refuse him.”
“He killed Beatrice because she refused to continue as his lover?” I fought to keep the incredulity out of my voice.
Andais pulled, sharp and sudden, tearing another shriek from his throat. “Tell her what you told me,” she said.
He coughed to clear his throat, and the sound was wet. He spat blood, then finally managed to speak. His voice was as broken as his body, hoarse and raw from screaming. “I did not mean for her to die. She is fey, immortal. I did not use cold iron or steel. It should not have been a killing blow.” He coughed again, and started to fall flatter to the ground, but Andais kept her grip on his intestines, so he struggled to prop himself up on one skinless arm.
When he had recovered a bit, I asked, “You stabbed her in the back because she refused to continue as your lover?”
“She was a distraction, not a lover.”
“A distraction?” I said. “Because she was lesser fey, and they can’t be lovers?”
“Yes,” he said in that raw voice.
Strangely, I wasn’t feeling as sorry for him as I had moments ago. It was still pitiable, and no one deserved such treatment, but… “If she meant nothing to you, then why did her refusal of your attentions drive you to murder her?”
“I did not mean her death.” His voice broke, not from tears but from the abuse Andais had forced on him.
“But, Gwennin, if she truly was only a distraction, you could have found a dozen like her. Many lesser fey would have jumped at the chance to bed a sidhe lord.”
His formless face, that held only the shadow of his bone structure to let me know it was indeed him, could give me no emotion. Andais had stripped that away with his skin and flesh. But his voice held something.