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Mistrals Kiss :: Гамильтон Лорел
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“I would not ask that ofanyone,” Sholto said. He lowered his head, and a sound escaped him. It was almost a sob. I wanted to hug him, but I didn’t want to anger his hags any further. Besides, they were partially right — I could touch him now without flinching. Still, I saw it for what it was, something cruelly done — an amputation. I had felt those muscular tentacles on my body — just a touch, but they had been real — and they’d had uses, which he now had lost.
Sholto spoke low. “The Seelie said they were doing me a favor. That if I healed without the deformity coming back, the lady in question would keep her word and bed me for a night.”
In sympathy, I started to touch him where the bits had been, then stopped because the wound was bleeding and raw, and touching it must hurt. “But the tentacles are part of you. It is like cutting off an arm, or worse.”
“Do you know how often I have dreamt of looking like them?” He motioned at the men at my back. “Agnes is right. I have dreamt of looking fully sidhe for so long, and now it is as you say, I have lost pieces of myself. I have lost arms, and more.”
“The queen does not know this,” Doyle said.
“Are you certain of that, Darkness? Beyond doubt?”
Doyle started to simply say yes, then stopped himself. “No, I am not certain, but she has not told us otherwise; nor have rumors to the contrary touched our court.”
“Wars have begun over less than this, Darkness. Wars between the courts of faerie.”
Doyle nodded. “I know.”
“Agnes says that Andais had to have given Taranis her approval — even if just tacitly — or Taranis would not have risked it. Do you think my hag is right? Do you think the queen allowed this to happen?”
“The sluagh are too important to the queen, King Sholto. I cannot imagine a set of circumstances in which Andais would risk such hurt to the sluagh’s vows to her court. I think it more likely that this was done, at least partially, in a bid to strip our queen of your might. Why didn’t you tell the queen, the court?”
“I thought she must know. That she must have given permission. I agreed with the hags — I did not think even Taranis would dare to do this without Andais’s knowledge.”
“I cannot argue your reasoning, but I do not believe she knows,” Doyle said.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Sholto?” I asked. “You once said to me that only the two of us understand what it is like to be almost sidhe. Almost tall enough, slender enough, almost — but not quite pure enough to be accepted.
“I would not ask that ofanyone,” Sholto said. He lowered his head, and a sound escaped him. It was almost a sob. I wanted to hug him, but I didn’t want to anger his hags any further. Besides, they were partially right — I could touch him now without flinching. Still, I saw it for what it was, something cruelly done — an amputation. I had felt those muscular tentacles on my body — just a touch, but they had been real — and they’d had uses, which he now had lost.
Sholto spoke low. “The Seelie said they were doing me a favor. That if I healed without the deformity coming back, the lady in question would keep her word and bed me for a night.”
In sympathy, I started to touch him where the bits had been, then stopped because the wound was bleeding and raw, and touching it must hurt. “But the tentacles are part of you. It is like cutting off an arm, or worse.”
“Do you know how often I have dreamt of looking like them?” He motioned at the men at my back. “Agnes is right. I have dreamt of looking fully sidhe for so long, and now it is as you say, I have lost pieces of myself. I have lost arms, and more.”
“The queen does not know this,” Doyle said.
“Are you certain of that, Darkness? Beyond doubt?”
Doyle started to simply say yes, then stopped himself. “No, I am not certain, but she has not told us otherwise; nor have rumors to the contrary touched our court.”
“Wars have begun over less than this, Darkness. Wars between the courts of faerie.”
Doyle nodded. “I know.”
“Agnes says that Andais had to have given Taranis her approval — even if just tacitly — or Taranis would not have risked it. Do you think my hag is right? Do you think the queen allowed this to happen?”
“The sluagh are too important to the queen, King Sholto. I cannot imagine a set of circumstances in which Andais would risk such hurt to the sluagh’s vows to her court. I think it more likely that this was done, at least partially, in a bid to strip our queen of your might. Why didn’t you tell the queen, the court?”
“I thought she must know. That she must have given permission. I agreed with the hags — I did not think even Taranis would dare to do this without Andais’s knowledge.”
“I cannot argue your reasoning, but I do not believe she knows,” Doyle said.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Sholto?” I asked. “You once said to me that only the two of us understand what it is like to be almost sidhe. Almost tall enough, slender enough, almost — but not quite pure enough to be accepted.