JК
A Kiss Of Shadows :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 220 из 338I've seen the dying orchards and flower gardens with a few straggling blossoms, but no underground moon or sun. The rooms are bigger and more square than they should be, and the blueprint of the interior seems to change at random, sometimes with you walking through it, like walking through a fun house made of stone instead of mirrors. But there are no meadows, or none that I've seen. I'm more than willing to believe that the others are keeping secrets from me. That wouldn't surprise me in the least, but to my knowledge there are no worlds under the ground, just stone and rooms.
Doyle offered me his arm, very formally. I took his arm lightly, out of habit mostly.
There was a sharp bend to the corridor. I heard footsteps coming toward us. Doyle pulled gently on my arm. I stopped and looked at him. "What is it?" I asked.
Doyle led me back down the corridor. I walked backward with him, and he stopped abruptly. He grabbed a handful of my dress and raised the skirt enough to bare my ankles, and the gun. "It wasn't your heels setting you off balance on the stones, Princess." He sounded angry with me.
"I'm allowed weapons."
"No guns inside the mound," he said.
"Since when?"
"Since you killed Bleddyn with one."
We looked at each other for a frozen second, then I tried to move away, but his hand closed over my wrist.
With footsteps coming ever closer, Doyle jerked me off balance so that I fell against him. He pinned me to his body with an arm across my back. He opened his mouth to speak, and the footsteps turned the corner.
We were left standing in full sight, Doyle pinning me to his body, the other hand on my wrist. It looked like an interrupted fight or the beginning of one.
The two men that stepped around the corner fanned out so that they covered as much of the corridor as possible with space to spare for fighting.
I looked up into Doyle's face and tried to put the request into one glance. I begged him with my eyes not to tell about the gun and not to take it.
He put his mouth against my cheek, and whispered, "You will not need it."
I just looked up at him. "Will you give me your oath on that?"
The anger tightened the muscles in his jaw, thrummed down his arms. "I will not give my oath on the queen's whim."
"Then let me keep the gun," I whispered.
He moved to stand between me and the other guards. He still had the grip on my arm. All the others could see was the sweep of Doyle's cape.
"What's wrong, Doyle?" one of the men asked.
"Nothing," he said.
Doyle offered me his arm, very formally. I took his arm lightly, out of habit mostly.
There was a sharp bend to the corridor. I heard footsteps coming toward us. Doyle pulled gently on my arm. I stopped and looked at him. "What is it?" I asked.
Doyle led me back down the corridor. I walked backward with him, and he stopped abruptly. He grabbed a handful of my dress and raised the skirt enough to bare my ankles, and the gun. "It wasn't your heels setting you off balance on the stones, Princess." He sounded angry with me.
"I'm allowed weapons."
"No guns inside the mound," he said.
"Since when?"
"Since you killed Bleddyn with one."
We looked at each other for a frozen second, then I tried to move away, but his hand closed over my wrist.
With footsteps coming ever closer, Doyle jerked me off balance so that I fell against him. He pinned me to his body with an arm across my back. He opened his mouth to speak, and the footsteps turned the corner.
We were left standing in full sight, Doyle pinning me to his body, the other hand on my wrist. It looked like an interrupted fight or the beginning of one.
The two men that stepped around the corner fanned out so that they covered as much of the corridor as possible with space to spare for fighting.
I looked up into Doyle's face and tried to put the request into one glance. I begged him with my eyes not to tell about the gun and not to take it.
He put his mouth against my cheek, and whispered, "You will not need it."
I just looked up at him. "Will you give me your oath on that?"
The anger tightened the muscles in his jaw, thrummed down his arms. "I will not give my oath on the queen's whim."
"Then let me keep the gun," I whispered.
He moved to stand between me and the other guards. He still had the grip on my arm. All the others could see was the sweep of Doyle's cape.
"What's wrong, Doyle?" one of the men asked.
"Nothing," he said.