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told." The anger was mere sullenness now, showing the edge of fear that had
been there all along.
He looked at me, and he wasn't angry with me; he just seemed tired and beaten.
"So here I am, and the queen wishes me to touch the ring. If it does not react
to my skin, then after we deliver you safely to the court, I am free to leave
this guard detail, but if it sings to my touch . . ." He looked down at the
floor, and his hair spilled around his face. He looked up abruptly, combing
his fingers through the hair to keep it back. "I must touch the ring. I must
see what happens. I have no choice, and neither do you." He sounded so unhappy
that it made me like him better than I ever had before. Not like him enough to
take him to my bed, but I always had trouble hating people if they showed me
something that wasn't hateable inside them. Andais had seen that as a
weakness; my father had seen it as a strength. I still hadn't decided.
Without taking his gaze from Amatheon, Doyle asked, "Do you wish to allow it?"
Frost moved closer to me so that his coat enveloped me like a cloud.
"Allowing him to touch the ring means nothing, costs us nothing," I said.
"When I speak to the queen about him, I would rather have done everything she
wished, up to that point."
"She will not allow either of us to pass on this, Princess." His hand went to
his hair, and he stopped himself with a visible effort. "She will have us bed,
if the ring knows me."
I wanted badly to ask him again, why, but believed he knew no more of Andais's
logic than did I. "What happens after will be a problem for another day." I
stepped up to touch Doyle's arm. "Let him pass."
Doyle glanced at me, as if he wanted to argue, but he didn't. He simply
stepped aside, allowing me to step forward, but Frost did not move back. He
stayed so close that the line of his body touched mine.
"Frost," I said, "we need a little more space."
He glanced down at me, then at Amatheon, then he took a small step to the
side, his face its best
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arrogant mask. Neither he nor Doyle liked Amatheon. Maybe it was something
personal, or maybe, like me, they didn't like the idea of someone who was
Cel's man being near me.
"Frost," I said again, "what if the ring picks up on you, and not Amatheon?
Give us enough room so we know that the reaction is for him alone."
"I will give half an arm's length of room, but no more. He has been Cel's cat
for far too long."
Amatheon gazed up at the slightly taller man. "The princess is under the
queen's protection, magically given. If I raised a hand to her, then my life
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would be forfeit, and the queen would make me beg for death long before she
gave it." His eyes looked haunted. "No, Frost, I would not go back under the
queen's tender care, not even to keep this half-human mongrel off our throne."
"Oh, nice," I said.
Amatheon sighed. "You know how I feel, Princess Meredith. How I've always felt
about you and your being in line to the throne. If I suddenly said you were
wonderful and a perfect future queen, would you believe me?"
I just shook my head.
"The queen has . . . persuaded me that my beliefs are not so precious as my
flesh and my blood." His face seemed to crumble for a moment, almost as if he
would cry. He regained himself, but the eyes that turned to me were raw with
emotion. What had Andais done to him?
"You should have just agreed, like I did." The other guard I could have done
without seeing was
Onilwyn. He was handsome, but there was a roughness to his face, an almost
unfinished quality, so that although he was handsome by human standards, by
sidhe standards he was coarse. He was broad of shoulder, and muscular; even
just a glimpse of his clothed body framed by the long fur coat, and you had a
sense of the power of him. He was so thick through the shoulders and chest
that he seemed shorter than the others, but it was illusion. Onilwyn's thick
wavy hair was tied back in a ponytail. The hair was a green so dark it held
black highlights when the light touched it just so. His eyes were the color of
green grass with a starburst of liquid gold dancing around the pupils. His
skin was a pale green, but it wasn't a white-green like Galen's, where you
were not sure whether it was white or green. No, Onilwyn's skin was a pale
solid green in the same way Carrow's skin was brown.
"You would agree to anything that saved your hide," Amatheon said.
"Of course I would," Onilwyn said, as he glided toward us. I'd never
understood how such a bulky man managed to glide, but he always did. "So would
anyone with any sense."
Amatheon turned to look at the other man. "Why are you Cel's man? Do you
believe he should be king?
Do you care?"
Onilwyn shrugged thick shoulders. "I prefer Cel king because he likes me, and
I like him. He's promised me many things once he's on the throne."
"He promises many things," Amatheon said, "but that is not why I have been his
follower."
"Then why?" Doyle asked.
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He answered without looking away from Onilwyn. "Cel is the last true sidhe
prince we have. The last true heir to the bloodline that has ruled us for
nearly three thousand years. The day that someone who is part human, and part
brownie, and part Seelie takes our crown is the day we die as a people. We
will be no better than the mongrels in Europe."
Onilwyn smiled, and it was so full of spite that it hurt to see it. "But here
you are, lover of the pure
Unseelie blood, here you are." He stood in front of the taller man, gazing at
him with that cruel, satisfied smile. "Forced to bed one of the mongrel horde.
Knowing that if you get her with child you, personally, will be responsible
for placing her on the throne. Such delicious, thick, spreadable irony."
"You're enjoying this," Amatheon said in a strangled voice.
Onilwyn nodded. "If the ring is alive to our touch, we are free of our
celibacy."
"But only with her," Amatheon said.
The other man shook his head. "What does it matter? She's a woman, and she's
sidhe. This is a gift, not a curse."
"She is not sidhe."
"Grow up, Amatheon, grow up, before this naivete gets you killed." He looked
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at me for the first time.
"May I touch the ring, Princess?"
"What happens if I say no?"
Onilwyn smiled, and it was only a little less pleasant than the smile he'd
given Amatheon. "The queen knew you wouldn't like it, or rather like me. Let [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]