"Edghill,.Rosemary.-.Empty.Crown.Trilogy" - читать интересную книгу автора (Edghill Rosemary)

Deliberately she did not think. Why borrow trouble when the universe
gave so much of it away free? She achieved her door (7A), unlocked two
more locks, and was in.

One carpet, indifferent khaki. The entryway was a clutter of
inadequate mismatched bookshelves covered with trinkets, souvenirs, and
just plain junk. The living room was an antiseptic horror of
"furniture-provided-by-the-college"; vinyl-covered and mended in
tape.

She and Naomi had put throws on the couch and chairs; fake fur and
patchwork, tie-dye and corduroy. Melior stepped into the middle of it
like an insulted cat, senses straining at normalcy.

In the overhead light of her own living room, Ruth got her first good
look at her rescue project. Forced herself to look; confronting the
unwelcome head-on with iron determination, just as she had every day
for the last four years. Beyond which point lay that undiscovered
country from which no traveler returneth, thank you very much, and this
was a hell of a time for her thoughts to lead her down that particular
primrose path. She turned her attention back to her guest.

This was nothing ordinary in the way of Upper Manhattan mugging
victims. Where it wasn't bruised, Melior's skin was as smooth and
blemishless as a child's; pale as the lily. He looked foreign to this
place, but whether his own place was Graustark or Elfland Ruth wasn't
prepared to say.

It began to seem even less likely that this was a long, careful
entrapment, a way to gain access to a woman alone, and Ruth felt
herself begin to relax.

"Make yourself comfortable," Ruth said. Belatedly she became aware of
half a pint of Haagen-Dazs, unconsumed, slowly melting in her hand.

"I'll put on tea," she said, retreating.

The kitchen, bereft of elves, was soothing. She put the ice cream
carton into the tiny freezer compartment of the antique refrigerator
and put the kettle on the stove, then sluiced one tea towel to sopping
and filled another with ice cubes. She put both into a bowl and
returned, reluctantly, to the living room.

Melior was standing in the middle of the living room, his back to
her.

He'd removed his cloak and belt, and had pulled up his shirt to inspect
reddened ribs that would probably be gloriously black by morning. When
he heard her come in, he smoothed his clothes down and turned to greet
her.