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Mistrals Kiss :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 80 из 148The guard stared at me with his face that looked only half formed, the nostrils mere slits. I did not look away. I stared, memorized his face, for I had never seen another quite like it.
“You do not find me ugly.” The guard’s voice held that edge of twittering — almost bird-like, but deeper.
“No,” I said.
“Do you know what I am?”
“The eyes are goblin blood, but the face is nightflyer. I’m not sure about the rest,” I said.
“I am half-goblin and half-nightflyer.”
“Ivar and Fyfe are my uncles on my father’s side,” Sholto said.
The second guard spoke for the first time. His voice was deeper, more “human.” He gave me the full gaze of his face. His eyes were the same oblongs of color, a deep rich blue, but he had more nose, more lower jaw. If he’d been taller, he might have passed for a goblin. But the skin wasn’t quite the right texture. “I am Fyfe, brother to Ivar.” He gave the hags an unfriendly look. “Our king felt the need of some male guards, who were not conflicted about what to do with his body. We guard it, and that is all.”
“This insult was not for lack of our ability to guard,” Agnes said. “You, too, will be helpless when he chases his next bit of sidhe flesh. He won’t want an audience, and he will go with her alone.”
“Enough, Agnes. Enough, all of you.” Sholto pressed my hand tighter against his face. “Why didn’t I tell you, Princess? How could I admit that Seelie did this to me? That I was not warrior enough to save myself? That I fell into their trap, because they offered me what you had promised? Agnes is right in one thing: I am near blinded by my desire to be with another sidhe, so blinded that I let a Seelie woman bind me. So blinded I believed her lie that she was fascinated with my bits, but afraid of them, too.” He shook his head. “I am King of the Sluagh, and even bound I should have had enough magic to save myself from this.” He let go of me, stepped back.
“The Seelie have magic that we do not,” Frost said.
“The sluagh have magic that the Seelie have never possessed,” I said. I touched Sholto’s arm. He flinched, but didn’t pull away. I squeezed his arm, and wanted so badly to hold him, to try to chase this pain away. I rested my head against his bare arm. My throat closed up, and I was suddenly choking on tears. I began to weep, clutching at his arm. I couldn’t stop.
He pulled me away from him enough to see my face. “You waste tears on me — why?”
I had to struggle to speak. “You are beautiful, Sholto, you are — don’t let them make you think otherwise.
“You do not find me ugly.” The guard’s voice held that edge of twittering — almost bird-like, but deeper.
“No,” I said.
“Do you know what I am?”
“The eyes are goblin blood, but the face is nightflyer. I’m not sure about the rest,” I said.
“I am half-goblin and half-nightflyer.”
“Ivar and Fyfe are my uncles on my father’s side,” Sholto said.
The second guard spoke for the first time. His voice was deeper, more “human.” He gave me the full gaze of his face. His eyes were the same oblongs of color, a deep rich blue, but he had more nose, more lower jaw. If he’d been taller, he might have passed for a goblin. But the skin wasn’t quite the right texture. “I am Fyfe, brother to Ivar.” He gave the hags an unfriendly look. “Our king felt the need of some male guards, who were not conflicted about what to do with his body. We guard it, and that is all.”
“This insult was not for lack of our ability to guard,” Agnes said. “You, too, will be helpless when he chases his next bit of sidhe flesh. He won’t want an audience, and he will go with her alone.”
“Enough, Agnes. Enough, all of you.” Sholto pressed my hand tighter against his face. “Why didn’t I tell you, Princess? How could I admit that Seelie did this to me? That I was not warrior enough to save myself? That I fell into their trap, because they offered me what you had promised? Agnes is right in one thing: I am near blinded by my desire to be with another sidhe, so blinded that I let a Seelie woman bind me. So blinded I believed her lie that she was fascinated with my bits, but afraid of them, too.” He shook his head. “I am King of the Sluagh, and even bound I should have had enough magic to save myself from this.” He let go of me, stepped back.
“The Seelie have magic that we do not,” Frost said.
“The sluagh have magic that the Seelie have never possessed,” I said. I touched Sholto’s arm. He flinched, but didn’t pull away. I squeezed his arm, and wanted so badly to hold him, to try to chase this pain away. I rested my head against his bare arm. My throat closed up, and I was suddenly choking on tears. I began to weep, clutching at his arm. I couldn’t stop.
He pulled me away from him enough to see my face. “You waste tears on me — why?”
I had to struggle to speak. “You are beautiful, Sholto, you are — don’t let them make you think otherwise.