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Mistrals Kiss :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 84 из 148His voice came clear and unemotional; you would never have known the pain in his eyes from that voice. “Do you ask for healing, or for death, Segna?”
“Healing,” she managed to say.
He shook his head. “Get her off the bones.” He looked at Fyfe. “Go help them.”
Fyfe hesitated for a moment then slid, carefully, down the slope to join his brother in the still, thick water. The three of them managed to slide Segna free of most of the bones. One of them seemed caught on Segna’s own ribs, and Agnes snapped that spine so that they could lower her into their arms. She was writhing in pain, and coughing blood.
Agnes raised a tearstained face. “We are not the people we once were, King Sholto. She dies.”
Segna reached a shaking hand out to him. “Mercy.”
“We cannot save you, Segna. I am sorry,” said Sholto, for it now seemed clear that this was the case.
“Mercy,” she said again.
Agnes said, “There is more than one kind of mercy, Sholto. Would you leave her to a slow death?” Her voice managed to be both tear-choked and hot with hatred. Such words should burn coming out.
Sholto shook his head.
Ivar’s high-pitched voice came. “It is your kill, Sholto.”
“ Their kill — the king’s and the princess’s,” Agnes said, giving me a look of such venom that I fought not to flinch. If a look could still kill among us, I would have died from that look in her eyes. She spat into the water.
“She did not strike the blow, I did,” Sholto said as he came to his feet. He actually stumbled, and I caught him, helped him stand. He didn’t jerk away, which let me know he was badly hurt. I could see the bleeding wound that Segna had made, but I didn’t think it was that wound that made me him stumble. Nor was it the amputation that weakened him now. There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.
“My apologies, Sholto, but the hag is right,” Ivar’s high voice said reluctantly, “Segna bled you both. If the princess was not a warrior, then she would be free of this, but she is a sidhe of the Unseelie Court, and all who claim that are warriors.”
“The princess has killed more than once in challenge,” Fyfe said.
“If she will not help finish Segna, then she will never be acknowledged as queen of the sluagh,” Agnes said. She stroked Segna’s face, a surprisingly gentle gesture given her dagger-like talons.
I heard Doyle sigh.
“Healing,” she managed to say.
He shook his head. “Get her off the bones.” He looked at Fyfe. “Go help them.”
Fyfe hesitated for a moment then slid, carefully, down the slope to join his brother in the still, thick water. The three of them managed to slide Segna free of most of the bones. One of them seemed caught on Segna’s own ribs, and Agnes snapped that spine so that they could lower her into their arms. She was writhing in pain, and coughing blood.
Agnes raised a tearstained face. “We are not the people we once were, King Sholto. She dies.”
Segna reached a shaking hand out to him. “Mercy.”
“We cannot save you, Segna. I am sorry,” said Sholto, for it now seemed clear that this was the case.
“Mercy,” she said again.
Agnes said, “There is more than one kind of mercy, Sholto. Would you leave her to a slow death?” Her voice managed to be both tear-choked and hot with hatred. Such words should burn coming out.
Sholto shook his head.
Ivar’s high-pitched voice came. “It is your kill, Sholto.”
“ Their kill — the king’s and the princess’s,” Agnes said, giving me a look of such venom that I fought not to flinch. If a look could still kill among us, I would have died from that look in her eyes. She spat into the water.
“She did not strike the blow, I did,” Sholto said as he came to his feet. He actually stumbled, and I caught him, helped him stand. He didn’t jerk away, which let me know he was badly hurt. I could see the bleeding wound that Segna had made, but I didn’t think it was that wound that made me him stumble. Nor was it the amputation that weakened him now. There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.
“My apologies, Sholto, but the hag is right,” Ivar’s high voice said reluctantly, “Segna bled you both. If the princess was not a warrior, then she would be free of this, but she is a sidhe of the Unseelie Court, and all who claim that are warriors.”
“The princess has killed more than once in challenge,” Fyfe said.
“If she will not help finish Segna, then she will never be acknowledged as queen of the sluagh,” Agnes said. She stroked Segna’s face, a surprisingly gentle gesture given her dagger-like talons.
I heard Doyle sigh.