A Kiss Of Shadows   ::   Гамильтон Лорел

The bedspread was a deep, rich burgundy with a mound of pillows: burgundy, purple, mauve, pink, and a few black, just a few. The mirrored dresser was cherry wood, varnished so dark it was almost black. The dresser near the window matched it. Jeremy said that my bedroom looked like a man's room with a few touches added by his girlfriend. There was a black lacquer cabinet in the corner farthest away from the bathroom door. The cabinet was Oriental, with cranes and stylized mountains. The crane had been part of my father's livery. When I bought it, I remembered thinking he would have liked it. There was a philodendron plant on top of it, grown so long that the vines fell like green hair around the beautiful wood.

I looked around the room, and suddenly it felt like it wasn't mine and I didn't belong here. I turned back to Doyle. "As if it makes a difference to you what color my bedroom is."

He didn't flinch, but his face became even more unreadable, more passive, a trace of arrogance creeping in, and it reminded me of Sholto's courtly mask.

The comment had been mean, and meant to be. I was angry with him. Angry with him for not killing Nerys for me. Angry with him for forcing me to do what had to be done. Angry with him for everything, even the things that weren't his fault.

He watched me with cool eyes. "You're quite right, Princess Meredith, your bedroom is no concern of mine. I am a court gelding."

I shook my head. "No, that's the problem. You're not a gelding; none of you are. She just won't share."

He shrugged, making it look graceful. The movement caused him to wince.

"How is your wound?" I asked.

"You were angry with me seconds ago, now you are not. Why?"

I tried to put it into words. "It's not your fault."

"What is not my fault?"

"You did not endanger me. You saved my life. You didn't send the sluagh after me. You didn't cause the hand of flesh to manifest tonight. It's not your fault. I'm angry, and I want someone to blame, but you shouldn't pay the price for other people's shit."

He raised black-on-black eyebrows at that. "A most enlightened attitude for a princess."

I shook my head. "Drop the title, Doyle. I'm Meredith, just Meredith."

The eyebrows went up even farther, until his eyes looked impossibly wide, and his expression actually made me laugh. The laughter sounded normal, felt good. I sat down on the edge of the bed and shook my head. "I didn't think I'd be laughing tonight."

He knelt in front of me. "You have killed before—why is this different?"

I looked at him, surprised that he'd understood exactly what was bothering me.