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night? Do not ask again for sex with the princess, for that is not going to happen."
Sage crossed his arms and did a very good imitation of a child's pout, complete with the chocolate
mustache on his mouth, but I'd seen him with my blood smeared across his tiny mouth too many times to
fall for it. He acted cute because it was what was left to the demi-fey, but he wasn't. He was dangerous,
treacherous, lecherous, and spiteful, but not cute.
"How about the blood of a god?" Rhys asked.
Sage turned in midair like some fantastic helicopter to face Rhys. "Are you offering Maeve's blood, or
Frost's?"
"Mine."
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He shook his head. "You are no god."
"My power has returned. Doyle called me Cromm Cruach again this day."
Sage turned to Doyle. "Is this true, Darkness?"
Doyle nodded. "I give you my word that I called him Cromm Cruach this day."
Sage hovered in front of Rhys so that the white curls moved around Rhys's face. He went close and
closer until his body almost touched Rhys. He darted in and licked Rhys's forehead, then darted away
before Rhys could catch him, or swat him. Though Rhys didn't try for either. Galen would have, but
Galen had the same reason to hate the demi-fey that Rhys had to hate the goblins, and it had been much
more recent.
"You don't taste like a god, Rhys. You taste good, powerful, but not a god."
"When's the last time you tasted a god?" Rhys asked.
Sage fluttered over toward Frost, though he stayed out of reach. Frost wasn't tolerant of unwanted
touch from anyone. Centuries of forced celibacy had made him most un-fey-like in that regard. I could
touch him, but few others could.
"Let me taste your skin, Frost. No blood, not yet."
Frost scowled up at the little man, and shook his head. "I am no one's blood whore."
"What does that make me?" I asked, and my voice was as cold as my anger was hot. I'd had about all I
could handle of Frost's moods for one day. I was the one who'd almost died; when was it my turn to be
in a mood?
Frost looked confused. "I didn't mean . . ."
I walked toward him. "If I'm willing to donate a little blood for the cause, then what makes you too good
to do it?"
He motioned at the hovering demi-fey. "I do not want that laying its mouth on me."
"I do it once a week, Frost. If it's good enough for a princess, it's good enough for you."
His face was the arrogant mask he wore when he was hiding what he was thinking. "Are you ordering
me to do it?" His voice was very cold, and I knew that here could be something that would drive a
wedge between us, maybe for a day, maybe forever. You never knew with Frost.
I stepped close to him, and when he jerked away, I let my hand fall to my side. "Not exactly, but I am
asking you to please do this. Please help us."
"I don't want to . . ."
I touched his lips with my fingertips and he let me. His breath was warm on my skin. "Please, Frost,
please, it is a small thing. It hurts only a little, and Sage is very good at glamour. He can make it hurt not
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at all."
"I have not agreed that Frost's blood will buy my silence," Sage said. "I have not tasted him. He may be
no more godling than Rhys."
"Both of us," Rhys said, "both Frost and me, and all you do is wait to tell your queen until we arrive at
the courts in person." Rhys moved so that he was staring up at the small hovering man. "The blood of two
sidhe nobles for less than twenty-four hours of silence. It's not a bad deal."
Sage slowed his wings enough that you could see the eyes of red on the inside of them, and the blue
iridescence that matched the broader blue stripe on the outside. It was almost as if he floated rather than
flew toward where Galen stood.
Galen leaned with his back to the far cabinets, arms crossed. The look on his face was as hostile as it
ever got. "Don't even  ask." His voice held a note of enraged finality that caused Sage to sink for a
moment toward the floor, like a human might stumble.
He regained his height, then added more so he was close to the ceiling, out of reach. "But you were so
tasty."
Galen looked at me. "Why don't we just bespell him for twenty-four hours?"
"Tempting as it is," I said, "Niceven might consider hostile magic on her proxy to be a violation of our
treaty."
"It would solve the problem," Rhys said.
"Very well," Sage said. "For a taste of Frost and a taste of the white knight, I will agree to hold my
tongue until I see my queen."
"In the flesh at her court," I added.
He whirled up near the ceiling like some lazy bird. He laughed and came to hover near me. "Are you
afraid I will cheat?"
"Say the words, Sage," I said.
He gave me a smile that said he would do what I wanted, but he would be a pain in the ass while doing
it. It was his way. In fact, it was the way of a lot of the Unseelie demi-fey. A cultural thing, perhaps.
He put his wee hand over his tiny chest and stood straight in midair, toes pointed downward. "For the
blood of both men, I will wait to tell my queen about the chalice until face to face and true flesh to true
flesh we are." He darted upward, so that I had to crane my neck to keep track of him near the ceiling.
"Satisfied?"
"Yes," I said.
"I have not agreed to this," Frost said.
"I'll be there," Rhys said.
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I slid my arm through Frost's arm, over the silk and the pull of his muscles. "I'll be there, too."
"Frost," Doyle said.
The two men looked at each, and something passed between them, some knowledge, some comfort. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]