Where Demons Dare. Kim Harrison
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Название: Where Demons Dare
Автор: Kim Harrison
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Эзотерика
isbn: 9780007283286
isbn:
The pale woman caught her emotions, clearly embarrassed. Her eyes flicked to my reddened wrist, and I hid it under the table. I felt guilty about the stand I was taking to stay out of the ever-after, even if it was a smart decision. I wanted to help Ceri, and I felt like a coward. “I’m sorry,” I said, then reached for the teapot, wanting a cup of something to hide behind. “I feel like a pile of chicken crap.”
“Don’t,” Ceri said shortly, and my eyes met hers. “This isn’t your war.”
“It used to be,” I said, my thoughts going to the widely accepted theory that the witches had abandoned the ever-after to the demons three thousand years before the elves gave up. Before that, there was no witch history except what the elves remembered for us, and very little elf history either.
Ceri intercepted my reach for the teapot, pouring it out for me and carefully handing me the cup and saucer with the grace of a millennium of practice. I accepted it and took a sip. It wasn’t coffee, but I could still feel the caffeine rush, and I eased into the wicker and crossed my legs. I had time, and Ceri, nervous and flustered, clearly was in no state for me to leave yet.
“Ceri,” I said, putting a tone of pride in my voice. “You’re something else. If I found out that I was pregnant unexpectedly, I’d be falling apart. I can’t believe Trent did this to you.”
Ceri hesitated over her cup, then took a delicate sip. “He didn’t.”
I shook my head. “You can’t take the blame for this. I know you’re a grown woman and you make your own decisions, but Trent is devious and manipulative. He could charm a troll out of her bridge if he tried.”
A faint rose color tinged her cheeks. “I mean, it’s not Trenton’s child.”
I stared at her. If it isn’t Trent’s …
“It’s Quen’s,” she said, her eyes on the swaths of fabric fluttering overhead.
“B-But …” I stammered. Oh, my God. Quen? Suddenly his awkward silences and stiff looks meant something completely different. “Trent never said anything! Neither did Quen. They just stood there and let me believe—”
“It’s not their place to say anything,” Ceri said primly, then set her teacup down with a sharp clink.
The breeze shifted the wispy strands of her hair that had slipped her braid as I realigned my thinking. That’s why Quen had gone behind Trent’s back to ask for my help. That’s why he’d seemed guilty. “But I thought you liked Trent,” I finally managed.
Ceri made a face. On me it would have looked ugly; on her, it looked comely. “I do,” she said sourly. “He is kind with me, and gentle. He is clever with words and quick to follow my thoughts, and we enjoy each other’s company. His bloodline is impeccable …” She hesitated, her eyes going to her fingers, now sitting still in her lap. A deep breath lifted through her and was gone. “And he won’t touch me without fear.”
My brow furrowed in anger.
“It’s the demon smut,” she said distantly, shame in her gaze darting about. “He thinks it’s the bloody kiss of death. That I’m filthy and foul, and that it’s catching.”
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