JК
Mistrals Kiss :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 115 из 148Was this the same man who had refused to sacrifice me just moments ago? Who had looked on me with such tenderness? The magic was indeed working powerfully in him, to make this change.
Rhys’s voice came, cautious: “You wear a crown of flowers, King Sholto. Are you so certain that the wild hunt will recognize you as sluagh?”
“I am their king.”
“You look sidhe enough to be welcome in the queen’s bed right now,” Rhys said.
Sholto touched his flat stomach with its healed flesh and tattoo. He hesitated, then shook his head. “I will call the wild magic. I will call the hunt. If they see me as prey and not as sluagh, then so be it.” He smiled, and even in the uncertain light it didn’t look particularly happy. He laughed, and the night echoed with it. There was the call of some sweet-voiced bird, sleepy from the distant shore.
Sholto spoke again. “It is a long tradition among us, Lord Rhys, to slay our kings to bring back life to the land. If by my life, or my death, I can bring my people back to their power, I will do it.”
“Sholto,” I said, “don’t. Don’t say that.”
“It is done,” he said.
Doyle started moving us toward the other side of the island. “Short of killing him, we cannot stop him,” he told me. “You both reek of the oldest of magicks. I am not certain that he can be killed right now.”
“We need to leave then,” Rhys said.
Abeloec was finally pulling himself up on the shore. He still had his cup in his hand, and it seemed as if the weight of it had kept him from coming sooner. “Don’t tell me I have to get back in the lake,” he said. “If she’s touched with the magic of creation, let her create a bridge.”
I didn’t wait. I said, “I want a bridge to the shore.” A graceful white bridge appeared, just like that.
“Cool,” Rhys said. “Let’s go.”
Sholto spoke in a ringing voice. “I call the wild hunt, by Herne and huntsman, by horn and hound, by wind and storm, and wreck of winter, I call us home.”
The dark near the roof of the cavern split open as if someone had cut it with a knife. It split open and things boiled out of it.
Doyle turned my face away and said, “Do not look back.” He began to run, dragging me with him. We all began to run. Only Sholto and his uncles stayed on the island as the night itself ripped open and poured nightmares behind us.
CHAPTER 17
WE MADE THE FAR SHORE, BUT I TRIPPED ON A SKELETON buried in the ground. Doyle picked me up and kept running.
Rhys’s voice came, cautious: “You wear a crown of flowers, King Sholto. Are you so certain that the wild hunt will recognize you as sluagh?”
“I am their king.”
“You look sidhe enough to be welcome in the queen’s bed right now,” Rhys said.
Sholto touched his flat stomach with its healed flesh and tattoo. He hesitated, then shook his head. “I will call the wild magic. I will call the hunt. If they see me as prey and not as sluagh, then so be it.” He smiled, and even in the uncertain light it didn’t look particularly happy. He laughed, and the night echoed with it. There was the call of some sweet-voiced bird, sleepy from the distant shore.
Sholto spoke again. “It is a long tradition among us, Lord Rhys, to slay our kings to bring back life to the land. If by my life, or my death, I can bring my people back to their power, I will do it.”
“Sholto,” I said, “don’t. Don’t say that.”
“It is done,” he said.
Doyle started moving us toward the other side of the island. “Short of killing him, we cannot stop him,” he told me. “You both reek of the oldest of magicks. I am not certain that he can be killed right now.”
“We need to leave then,” Rhys said.
Abeloec was finally pulling himself up on the shore. He still had his cup in his hand, and it seemed as if the weight of it had kept him from coming sooner. “Don’t tell me I have to get back in the lake,” he said. “If she’s touched with the magic of creation, let her create a bridge.”
I didn’t wait. I said, “I want a bridge to the shore.” A graceful white bridge appeared, just like that.
“Cool,” Rhys said. “Let’s go.”
Sholto spoke in a ringing voice. “I call the wild hunt, by Herne and huntsman, by horn and hound, by wind and storm, and wreck of winter, I call us home.”
The dark near the roof of the cavern split open as if someone had cut it with a knife. It split open and things boiled out of it.
Doyle turned my face away and said, “Do not look back.” He began to run, dragging me with him. We all began to run. Only Sholto and his uncles stayed on the island as the night itself ripped open and poured nightmares behind us.
CHAPTER 17
WE MADE THE FAR SHORE, BUT I TRIPPED ON A SKELETON buried in the ground. Doyle picked me up and kept running.