Mistrals Kiss   ::   Гамильтон Лорел

“Her two hands of power are flesh and blood,” Doyle said. “Those are not Seelie magicks.”

“I came to the princess for aid for Nerys’s people, but I would not risk her now, not for a house full of traitors,” said Mistral.

“If we save them, they won’t be traitors,” I said.

“They still believe that your mortality is contagious,” Rhys said. “They still think that if you sit on the throne, we will all begin to age and die.”

“Do you think that Nerys’s court still has enough honor to realize that I’m trying to ensure that their rulers’ sacrifice wasn’t for nothing? Nerys gave her life so her house would not die, and I want that to mean something.”

The men seemed to think about it for a moment. Finally Doyle said, “They have honor, but I do not know if they have gratitude.”



CHAPTER 9

“DEITY MAGIC BROUGHT US HERE,” RHYS SAID, “BUT HOW DO WE get out? There’s no door anymore to the dead gardens.”

“Meredith,” Frost said.

I looked at him.

“Ask the sithen to give us a door leading out of here.”

“Do you think it will be that easy?” Rhys said.

“If the sithen wishes Merry to save Nerys’s people, yes,” said Frost.

“And if it doesn’t wish them saved, or if it doesn’t care?”

Frost shrugged. “If you have a better suggestion, I am listening.”

Rhys spread his hands as if to say no.

I looked out at the dark wall and said, “I need a door that leads out of here.”

The darkness grew less, and a door — a large golden door — appeared in the cave wall. I almost said, Thank you, but some of the older magicks don’t like to be thanked — they take insult from it. I swallowed, and whispered, “It’s a lovely door.”

Carving appeared around the door frame, vines drawn through the wood as if by an invisible finger. “That’s new,” Rhys whispered.

“Let us go through, before it decides to vanish,” Frost said.

He was right. He was most certainly right. But strangely, none of us wanted to pass through the door until the invisible finger had finished drawing its vines. Only when the wood had stopped moving did Doyle touch the golden handle, and turn it. He led the way into a hallway that was almost as black as his own skin. If he stood still, he’d blend into the background.

Rhys touched the wall. “We haven’t had a black corridor like this in the sithen for years.”

“It’s made of the same rock as the queen’s chamber,” I whispered.