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A Kiss Of Shadows :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 131 из 338"How did he get inside when I could not?"
"I am sidhe," Doyle said.
"So am I," Sholto said. The anger in his face hardened just a bit.
I slapped Doyle's shoulder, hard enough to sting. He didn't turn, but he winced. "Don't bait him, Doyle."
"I was not baiting, merely stating a fact."
This entire fight was beginning to feel very personal, as if there was business between the two of them that had nothing to do with me. "Look, I don't know what you have against each other, but call me selfish, I don't care. I want out of this damn bathroom alive, and that takes priority over whatever personal vendetta the two of you have. So stop acting like little boys and start behaving like members of the royal bodyguards. Get me out of here in one piece."
"She's right," Doyle said, softly.
"The great Darkness, bowing out of a fight? Inconceivable. Or is it that I'm the one with the sword now?" Sholto moved the sword a fraction forward, touching the tip to the indentation in Doyle's upper lip. "A sword that can kill any fey, even a sidhe nobleman. Oh, I forget, you're not afraid of anything." There was a bitterness, a mockery, to Sholto's voice that said without doubt that I'd stepped into an old grudge.
"I fear many things," Doyle said, his voice calm, neutral. "Death is not one of them. But the ring on your finger is something that I am wary of. How did you get Beathalachd? I have not seen it used in centuries."
Sholto raised his hand so the dark bronze of the ring glimmered dully in the lights. It was a heavy piece of jewelry, and I would have noticed it on his hand if it had been there earlier. "It was the queen's gift to show her blessing on this hunt."
"The queen did not give you Beathalachd, not personally." Doyle sounded very sure of that.
"What is Beathalachd?" I asked.
"Vitality," Doyle said. "It steals the very life and skill of your opponent, which is the only way that he bested me in a fight."
Sholto flushed. It was considered a sign of weakness to need more magic than you had in your own body to defeat another sidhe. Basically, Doyle had said that Sholto couldn't win a fair fight, and had had to cheat. But it wasn't cheating—just less than chivalrous. Fuck chivalry, come back alive. It was what I'd told any man I'd ever loved, including my father, before every duel.
"The ring proves that I have the queen's favor," Sholto said, his face still colored by his anger.
"The ring did not come from the queen's own hand to yours," Doyle said, "any more than your order to kill the princess came from her mouth.
"I am sidhe," Doyle said.
"So am I," Sholto said. The anger in his face hardened just a bit.
I slapped Doyle's shoulder, hard enough to sting. He didn't turn, but he winced. "Don't bait him, Doyle."
"I was not baiting, merely stating a fact."
This entire fight was beginning to feel very personal, as if there was business between the two of them that had nothing to do with me. "Look, I don't know what you have against each other, but call me selfish, I don't care. I want out of this damn bathroom alive, and that takes priority over whatever personal vendetta the two of you have. So stop acting like little boys and start behaving like members of the royal bodyguards. Get me out of here in one piece."
"She's right," Doyle said, softly.
"The great Darkness, bowing out of a fight? Inconceivable. Or is it that I'm the one with the sword now?" Sholto moved the sword a fraction forward, touching the tip to the indentation in Doyle's upper lip. "A sword that can kill any fey, even a sidhe nobleman. Oh, I forget, you're not afraid of anything." There was a bitterness, a mockery, to Sholto's voice that said without doubt that I'd stepped into an old grudge.
"I fear many things," Doyle said, his voice calm, neutral. "Death is not one of them. But the ring on your finger is something that I am wary of. How did you get Beathalachd? I have not seen it used in centuries."
Sholto raised his hand so the dark bronze of the ring glimmered dully in the lights. It was a heavy piece of jewelry, and I would have noticed it on his hand if it had been there earlier. "It was the queen's gift to show her blessing on this hunt."
"The queen did not give you Beathalachd, not personally." Doyle sounded very sure of that.
"What is Beathalachd?" I asked.
"Vitality," Doyle said. "It steals the very life and skill of your opponent, which is the only way that he bested me in a fight."
Sholto flushed. It was considered a sign of weakness to need more magic than you had in your own body to defeat another sidhe. Basically, Doyle had said that Sholto couldn't win a fair fight, and had had to cheat. But it wasn't cheating—just less than chivalrous. Fuck chivalry, come back alive. It was what I'd told any man I'd ever loved, including my father, before every duel.
"The ring proves that I have the queen's favor," Sholto said, his face still colored by his anger.
"The ring did not come from the queen's own hand to yours," Doyle said, "any more than your order to kill the princess came from her mouth.