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A Stroke Of Midnight :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 85 из 293“Mug?”
Galen had to say, “The princess is asking you a question, Mug.”
She’d been too busy playing in the curls at the back of his neck to pay attention to anything else. She wasn’t stupid, but I’d seen her like this before, as if the touch of a sidhe was intoxicating to her.
She peered around his neck, her wings flicking nervously. “What?” she asked.
“Did Beatrice have a lover that you know of?”
She pointed to Harry. “Him.”
“Did she have a sidhe lover?” I asked.
Mug’s eyes went wide. “A sidhe for a lover? Beatrice…” She shook her head. “If I had known, I would have asked her to let me touch him.”
“Beatrice would never have told Mug,” Peasblossom said.
I looked for her and found her perched on the pots that hung from hooks on the near wall. “Did she tell you?”
“She did.”
“Who was her sidhe lover?” Harry asked, voice eager.
None us said anything, because it was one of the things we all wanted to know.
“She wouldn’t tell me, said he made her promise not to tell anyone or he would break off the relationship.”
“Why would that end the relationship?” Doyle asked. “Unless…”
Frost said it. “Unless he was a royal guard.”
“Who would risk death by torture for less than sidhe flesh?” Amatheon said.
I gave him an unfriendly look.
“I do not deserve that look, Princess; it is only truth.”
I started to argue but hesitated. I had had lesser fey lovers in Los Angeles, and it had been wonderful, but… but I had craved other flesh. Once you have had the full attention of another sidhe, all else was truly lesser. I wanted to argue with Amatheon, but I could not, not and be truthful.
“I will not argue with you, Amatheon,” I said.
“Because you cannot,” he replied. He kept his grip on Onilwyn, but his attention seemed all for me.
I acknowledged the truth of it with a nod.
“But if not a guard,” Galen asked, “then why would he care if others knew of his relationship with Beatrice?”
I looked at him, searching his face for any hint that he knew how naïve that question was, but there was nothing in his face that said he understood anything.
Mug cuddled in against his neck and spoke for most of us. “That is so sweet.”
“What?” Galen asked.
“A fair few dabble among us lesser folk,” Maggie May said, “but few wish to acknowledge us publicly.”
Galen frowned.
Galen had to say, “The princess is asking you a question, Mug.”
She’d been too busy playing in the curls at the back of his neck to pay attention to anything else. She wasn’t stupid, but I’d seen her like this before, as if the touch of a sidhe was intoxicating to her.
She peered around his neck, her wings flicking nervously. “What?” she asked.
“Did Beatrice have a lover that you know of?”
She pointed to Harry. “Him.”
“Did she have a sidhe lover?” I asked.
Mug’s eyes went wide. “A sidhe for a lover? Beatrice…” She shook her head. “If I had known, I would have asked her to let me touch him.”
“Beatrice would never have told Mug,” Peasblossom said.
I looked for her and found her perched on the pots that hung from hooks on the near wall. “Did she tell you?”
“She did.”
“Who was her sidhe lover?” Harry asked, voice eager.
None us said anything, because it was one of the things we all wanted to know.
“She wouldn’t tell me, said he made her promise not to tell anyone or he would break off the relationship.”
“Why would that end the relationship?” Doyle asked. “Unless…”
Frost said it. “Unless he was a royal guard.”
“Who would risk death by torture for less than sidhe flesh?” Amatheon said.
I gave him an unfriendly look.
“I do not deserve that look, Princess; it is only truth.”
I started to argue but hesitated. I had had lesser fey lovers in Los Angeles, and it had been wonderful, but… but I had craved other flesh. Once you have had the full attention of another sidhe, all else was truly lesser. I wanted to argue with Amatheon, but I could not, not and be truthful.
“I will not argue with you, Amatheon,” I said.
“Because you cannot,” he replied. He kept his grip on Onilwyn, but his attention seemed all for me.
I acknowledged the truth of it with a nod.
“But if not a guard,” Galen asked, “then why would he care if others knew of his relationship with Beatrice?”
I looked at him, searching his face for any hint that he knew how naïve that question was, but there was nothing in his face that said he understood anything.
Mug cuddled in against his neck and spoke for most of us. “That is so sweet.”
“What?” Galen asked.
“A fair few dabble among us lesser folk,” Maggie May said, “but few wish to acknowledge us publicly.”
Galen frowned.