A Stroke Of Midnight   ::   Гамильтон Лорел

Doyle looked a question at me, and I gave a nod. At a gesture from Doyle, Adair and he parted like a curtain to reveal Mistral.

His hair was the grey of a sky that promised rain, held back from his face in a ponytail. I had only a glimpse of his storm cloud grey eyes before he dropped to one knee and gave me only the back of his head. It was the first time that another sidhe, any sidhe, had voluntarily showed me such… respect. I stared down at the broad sweep of his shoulders in their tight leather armor, and wondered why he’d done it.

“Get up, Mistral.”

He shook his head, sending his grey hair like a fall of water down his back, barely held in check by the leather thong that held it at the nape of his neck. “I owe you this at the very least, Princess Meredith.”

I had no idea what he meant by that.

I looked at Doyle. He gave a small raise of an eyebrow, a slight turn of the head, his version of a shrug.

“Why do you owe me such a bow?” I asked.

He raised his head just enough so he could roll his eyes at me. “If I had dreamt that you would take one look from me so seriously, I would have been more careful of you, Princess. My oath on that.”

I knew what he meant then, for it had been the look of contempt on Mistral’s face the night before that had helped me be brave enough to confront Andais when she was in the grip of an evil spell. A spell that had made her slaughter her own men, and be a danger to anyone near her. It had been a very clever assassination ploy. Mistral had told me with his eyes alone that I was just another useless royal, and he hated us all. It wasn’t the hatred, but the uselessness that had moved me to action. Because I agreed with him. In that moment I had decided that I would rather die than see them slaughtered.

“Are you so certain one glance from you was what moved me forward?” I meant it to be a joke, but I’d forgotten how long it had been for some of the Queen’s Ravens since they’d had a woman joke with them.

He lowered his face quickly, his voice uncertain and uncomfortable. “I am sorry, Princess, I presumed too much.”

My kidding had not only fallen flat but embarrassed him. I’d had no idea my words had such power over Mistral. I touched his bowed head, the queen’s ring on my right hand. Mark of her rulership, her first gift to me, and an artifact of power.

My fingers brushed his face a breath before the metal of the ring did. He turned those storm-grey eyes up to me.