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Mistrals Kiss :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 20 из 148“Do you propose to spill more of Meredith’s precious blood? That was the price for the roses’ renewal.”
“There are ways to give life that do not require blood,” he said.
“You think you can fuck the gardens back to life?” she asked. She used the edge of the blade to raise Mistral up high on his knees.
Doyle said, “Yes.”
“This, I would like to see,” she said.
“I don’t think it will work if you are here,” Rhys said. A pale white light appeared over his head. Small, round, a gentle whiteness that illumined where he walked. It was the light that most of the sidhe, and many of the lesser fey, could make at will; a small magic that most possessed. If I wanted light in the dark, I had to find a flashlight or a match.
Rhys moved, in his soft circle of light, slowly, toward the queen.
She spoke: “A little fucking after a few centuries of celibacy makes you bold, one-eye.”
“The fucking makes me happy,” he said. “This makes me bold.” He raised his right arm, showing her the underside of it. The light was not strong enough, and the angle not right, for me to see what was so interesting.
She frowned; then, as he moved closer, her eyes widened. “What is that?” But her hand had lowered enough that Mistral was no longer trying to raise himself up on his knees to keep from being cut.
“It is exactly what you think it is, my queen,” Doyle said. He began to move closer to her, as well.
“Close enough, both of you.” She emphasized her words by forcing Mistral back high on his knees.
“We mean you no harm, my queen,” Doyle said.
“Perhaps I mean you harm, Darkness.”
“That is your privilege,” he said.
I opened my mouth to correct him, because he was my captain of the guard now. She wasn’t allowed to simply hurt him for the hell of it, not anymore.
Abeloec tightened his hand on my arm. He whispered against my hair, “Not yet, Princess. The Darkness does not need your help yet.”
I wanted to argue, but his reasoning was sound, as far as it went. I opened my mouth to argue, but as I looked up into his face, the argument fell away from me. His suggestion just seemed so reasonable.
Something bumped my hip, and I realized he was holding the horn cup. He was the cup, and the cup was him, in some mystical way, but when he touched it, he became more. More…reasonable. Or rather his suggestions did.
I wasn’t sure I liked that he could do that to me, but I let it go. We had enough problems without getting sidetracked.
“There are ways to give life that do not require blood,” he said.
“You think you can fuck the gardens back to life?” she asked. She used the edge of the blade to raise Mistral up high on his knees.
Doyle said, “Yes.”
“This, I would like to see,” she said.
“I don’t think it will work if you are here,” Rhys said. A pale white light appeared over his head. Small, round, a gentle whiteness that illumined where he walked. It was the light that most of the sidhe, and many of the lesser fey, could make at will; a small magic that most possessed. If I wanted light in the dark, I had to find a flashlight or a match.
Rhys moved, in his soft circle of light, slowly, toward the queen.
She spoke: “A little fucking after a few centuries of celibacy makes you bold, one-eye.”
“The fucking makes me happy,” he said. “This makes me bold.” He raised his right arm, showing her the underside of it. The light was not strong enough, and the angle not right, for me to see what was so interesting.
She frowned; then, as he moved closer, her eyes widened. “What is that?” But her hand had lowered enough that Mistral was no longer trying to raise himself up on his knees to keep from being cut.
“It is exactly what you think it is, my queen,” Doyle said. He began to move closer to her, as well.
“Close enough, both of you.” She emphasized her words by forcing Mistral back high on his knees.
“We mean you no harm, my queen,” Doyle said.
“Perhaps I mean you harm, Darkness.”
“That is your privilege,” he said.
I opened my mouth to correct him, because he was my captain of the guard now. She wasn’t allowed to simply hurt him for the hell of it, not anymore.
Abeloec tightened his hand on my arm. He whispered against my hair, “Not yet, Princess. The Darkness does not need your help yet.”
I wanted to argue, but his reasoning was sound, as far as it went. I opened my mouth to argue, but as I looked up into his face, the argument fell away from me. His suggestion just seemed so reasonable.
Something bumped my hip, and I realized he was holding the horn cup. He was the cup, and the cup was him, in some mystical way, but when he touched it, he became more. More…reasonable. Or rather his suggestions did.
I wasn’t sure I liked that he could do that to me, but I let it go. We had enough problems without getting sidetracked.