JК
Swallowing Darkness :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 211 из 242The nobles on the ground, who were crawling, limping, and dragging their wounded away from Doyle's still form, had helped bring me to this cold stranger. We would see how cold my heart would stay.
Jonty said, "Princess Meredith, we would protect you from their magic."
I nodded.
"We are protecting the princess," Dawson said.
"They can put their bodies between me and the hands of power of the nobles here. They would kill or maim you, but Red Caps are a tougher lot, Sergeant. They can be our shields."
Dawson looked up at the towering figures. "You'll be our meat shields?"
Jonty seemed to think about it, then nodded.
Dawson glanced at me, then shrugged as if to say, "If they're willing to take the hit, better them than my men."
"Okay" was what he said out loud.
The Red Caps moved around us so that they shielded both me and the soldiers. The humans were a little nervous, and several of them asked, "They're on our side, right?"
Dawson and I assured them that, yes, Jonty and the rest were on our side. I wasn't as reassuring as I might have been, because most of my attention was on the glimpses of Doyle that I kept getting as everyone moved around us. In that moment, I wasn't sure I cared about anything, or anyone else. My world had narrowed down to that spill of black hair on the frost-rimmed grass.
My hands tingled with the need to touch him, long before Dawson and Jonty felt that it was safe. Finally, the way was clear, and I was able to hold up the leather skirt and run to him. I collapsed beside him, the skirt protecting me from the winter-rough grass. I reached for him, then hesitated. It seemed ridiculous that a moment before all I had wanted was to touch him, and now that I could, I was afraid. I was so afraid I could barely breathe through the tightness in my throat. My heart couldn't decide if it was beating too fast, or forgetting to beat, so that my chest hurt with it. I knew that it was the beginning of a panic attack, not a heart attack, but a tiny part of me wasn't sure I cared which it was. If he was dead, and Frost was lost, then...
I fought my breathing until it came more smoothly. I fought until my breath was deeper, more even. I would not lose control of myself. Not in front of the men. Later, in private, if...
I cursed myself for a coward and made myself reach out those last few inches to that long, black hair. The hair was thick and rich and perfect as it moved under my hands, so I could find his neck, and check his pulse. My fingers brushed something hard.
Jonty said, "Princess Meredith, we would protect you from their magic."
I nodded.
"We are protecting the princess," Dawson said.
"They can put their bodies between me and the hands of power of the nobles here. They would kill or maim you, but Red Caps are a tougher lot, Sergeant. They can be our shields."
Dawson looked up at the towering figures. "You'll be our meat shields?"
Jonty seemed to think about it, then nodded.
Dawson glanced at me, then shrugged as if to say, "If they're willing to take the hit, better them than my men."
"Okay" was what he said out loud.
The Red Caps moved around us so that they shielded both me and the soldiers. The humans were a little nervous, and several of them asked, "They're on our side, right?"
Dawson and I assured them that, yes, Jonty and the rest were on our side. I wasn't as reassuring as I might have been, because most of my attention was on the glimpses of Doyle that I kept getting as everyone moved around us. In that moment, I wasn't sure I cared about anything, or anyone else. My world had narrowed down to that spill of black hair on the frost-rimmed grass.
My hands tingled with the need to touch him, long before Dawson and Jonty felt that it was safe. Finally, the way was clear, and I was able to hold up the leather skirt and run to him. I collapsed beside him, the skirt protecting me from the winter-rough grass. I reached for him, then hesitated. It seemed ridiculous that a moment before all I had wanted was to touch him, and now that I could, I was afraid. I was so afraid I could barely breathe through the tightness in my throat. My heart couldn't decide if it was beating too fast, or forgetting to beat, so that my chest hurt with it. I knew that it was the beginning of a panic attack, not a heart attack, but a tiny part of me wasn't sure I cared which it was. If he was dead, and Frost was lost, then...
I fought my breathing until it came more smoothly. I fought until my breath was deeper, more even. I would not lose control of myself. Not in front of the men. Later, in private, if...
I cursed myself for a coward and made myself reach out those last few inches to that long, black hair. The hair was thick and rich and perfect as it moved under my hands, so I could find his neck, and check his pulse. My fingers brushed something hard.