A Stroke Of Midnight   ::   Гамильтон Лорел

” She purred at me, a voice that was anger, seduction, and the promise of pain all rolled into one.

Rhys tightened his arms around me, his body tensing. I said, “We hate each other, auntie dearest, we always have.”

“And the fact that I would force you into my bed, how does that make you feel?”

“That I would rather be queen sooner than later.”

There were gasps. Andais laughed. “Are you threatening me?”

“No. When I held Galen’s dying body in my arms, I thought it was too dear a price to be queen of any court. I still think it, but thank you, auntie dearest, for reminding me that I will be queen, or I will die.”

“Coming to my bed is not death, Meredith.”

“Some deaths, auntie dearest, are of the soul rather than the body.”

“Are you saying that if I force you it will kill your soul?” She laughed again.

“I am saying that it will kill something inside me, and you will enjoy its death.”

“Yes,” she said, “I will.”

I smelled roses then, a soft, gentle perfume.

Andais looked around her. “What is that smell?”

“Flowers,” I said.

“There are no flowers here.”

I looked into her gore-soaked face. “There will be.” Those three simple words held a promise of weight and power.

“Roses are fragile things, Meredith. They do not grow outside of walls without the skill of gardeners.”

“The wild rose needs no walls to protect it,” Doyle said.

She turned and looked at him. “What are you babbling about, Darkness?”

“Can you not smell it, Queen Andais? It is the scent of the meadow rose, the bramble rose, and it needs no walls to protect it, nor gardener to tend it. In fact, it is almost impossible to dig out or destroy once it takes root.”

“I did not know you had such an interest in gardening, Darkness.”

“This is a rose that makes its own garden wherever it happens to grow.”

She stared at him, studying his impassive face, as if she saw something there that I could not read. “Do not fall too far in love with the rose, Darkness, for it has thorns.”

“Yes,” he said, “we must all beware the thorns when we seek to pick the rose.”

“And will you prick me with your thorn, Darkness?”

“What good is a thorn to the rose, if it does not draw blood.”

“Is that a threat?” she asked.

“What if that piece of her soul that you steal away is the piece that calls to the sithen? What if the piece of her happiness that you destroy is the very piece the Goddess calls to? Would you destroy all that has been awakened for a dark whim?”

“I am queen here, Darkness.”

“And your brother Essus loved you well,” he said.

That seemed odd even to me, and the queen frowned. “Why do you speak of my brother?”

“Why was Essus not king?” he asked in that empty voice.

She frowned at him. “He refused the throne.”

“Not true,” he said.

She licked her lips. “He would not kill me to get the throne.”

“Essus loved you too well,” Doyle said.

She turned back to me. “And his daughter does not love me at all. Is that what you mean, Darkness?”

“Meredith, daughter of Essus, does not love you, Andais, Queen of Air and Darkness.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You are threatening me.”

“I am saying that those who would have seen Essus on your throne were stopped by his love of you, and now there is no love to stand between you and harm.”

I wished that I could have read her face better, but the blood masked much of it. “I thought you served me out of duty, Darkness.”

“No, my queen, not out of duty.”

“But you do not love me now, Darkness.”

“No,” he said, “you killed that part of me long ago.”

“And if I say Meredith will never have my throne, never be queen, what say you to that?”

“Then we will go, all of us who wish to, and we will take exile in the lands to the west.”

“You cannot mean that.”

“I mean everything I say, Andais, Queen of Air and Darkness. I have always meant everything I have ever said to you.” And a soft sound escaped him. It was a sob, and a tear glittered down his cheek.

“I did not…” She stopped and tried again. “I did not know.”

“You did not see me,” he said, and his voice was steady now.

“But you were always by my side.”

“But you did not see me.”

“Does she see you, Darkness? Does she really see you?”

He nodded. “Yes, she sees me. She sees us all.”

They stared at each other for a space of heartbeats, and it was she who turned away first. “Go, and take your rose and her new thorns with you. All of you, go.”

She did not have to ask us twice. Rhys started carrying me toward the far door. I was pretty sure I could have walked, but being carried in his arms sounded just about right. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and gazed back over his broad shoulder at my aunt.

The people who had been with her were still hesitating, waiting, unsure if they’d had their orders. She screamed at them, “Go, go! All of you, go!” They went, hurrying off. Even Gwennin tried to crawl away from her. She put a foot on the long thick strings of his intestines, and her voice came in an evil whine, “Not you, Gwennin, not you.”

We made the far doors, were through them, and had them closing behind us as the first ragged scream cut the air. If I could have taken him with us, I would have. For I would not have left anyone to the queen’s mercy.

Doyle suddenly shoved me behind him. I heard it a second later: running. A group of people running this way. Adair and Amatheon had no weapons to draw, so they gave me their bodies as living shields. I could not see around all the broad backs and drawn weapons. I had to wait, surrounded by men whom I no longer wished to put between me and danger. I needed guards that I didn’t like quite so much. I heard Galen’s voice, “Where’s Merry?” Amatheon and Adair almost slumped with relief on either side of me. I fought the urge to laugh, or cry, or just push everyone away so I could see. But we all waited for Doyle to tell us to move, or not.

The men farther from us parted like a curtain, and only then did Amatheon and Adair move to frame me instead of shield me. Galen and everyone that we had left in the room were in the hallway, coming toward us. Doyle was assuring them that I was fine.

Galen pushed his way through the other men and paused before hugging me. He laughed. “What have you guys been doing, playing in the mud?”

The three of us exchanged glances. “We were playing in the mud,” Adair said. “Amatheon was the mud.”

Galen frowned at him.

“Later,” I said. I had noticed a newly healed face among the guard: Onilwyn.