"01 - Shadowdale - Richard Awlinson 2.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Avatar Trilogy)

Then Adon felt the hands of the guards on him, and before he could react, he was thrown forward. His lean yet muscular body absorbed most of the fall as he rolled and sprang into a fighting position just in time to hear a steel door swing shut. The lessons Adon had suffered through on the art of self defense would have come in handy had he realized the situation earlier.

He cursed himself for surrendering his war hammer so easily and, just for a moment, cursed his own vanity that had clouded his reason. These rogues were loyal to Knightsbridge! The cleric was sure that his compatriots, Kelemvor and Cyric, would soon be joining him.

We were fools, Adon thought. How could we have believed the threat to be over simply because one man had been driven off?

There was no light in the room, as Adon dusted off his fine clothing. He had worn his favorite silks and carried a handkerchief laced with gold Ч in case the lady became overwhelmed with tears when he accepted her proposal and became royal consort. His boots were shined, and even the tiniest glint of light reflected off them, despite the filth he had been forced to walk through.

"I'm a fool," Adon said to the darkness.

"So I'm told," a woman's voice answered behind him. "But we all have our weak points." Then Adon heard the striking of flint and a torch was lit, revealing the bearer of the light, a beautiful dark-haired woman.

Myrmeen Lhal.

Her eyes caught the reflection of the flames, and the flickers of fire seemed to dance just to celebrate her beauty. She wore a dark cloak, parted at the waist, and Adon stared at the fullness of her proud bosom that heaved in its chain mail dress.

Adon opened his arms and walked forward to his love, a warrior woman who had the courage and the wisdom to control a kingdom.

Life was better than good.

"Stand your ground unless you relish the idea of leaving here as naught but a stuck pig."

Adon held his ground. "Milady, I Ч "

"Do me the honor," Myrmeen said angrily, "of limiting your answers to 'yes, milady' or 'no, milady.' "

The ruler of Arabel moved forward and the cleric felt the cold tip of a blade pressed against his stomach.

"Yes, milady," Adon said, then was silent.

Myrmeen moved back and studied his face. "You are fair," she said, though she was in truth being kind. The cleric's mouth was a trifle large, his nose a shade from perfect, and his jaw was far too angular to be considered particularly pleasing. Still, there was a boyish, mischievous quality that lurked behind his far too innocent to be believed eyes, and a soul that sought adventure, both in service to his goddess and to many of the fair ladies of Arabel Ч if rumors were to be believed.

Adon allowed himself a smile that quickly vanished as the knife point found a new home somewhat lower. "A fair face, coupled with a healthy, serviceable body. . ."

Serviceable? Adon began to wonder.

"And an ego the size of my kingdom!"

Adon drew back as Myrmeen shouted at him, her torch held dangerously close to his face. The cleric felt sweat form on his brow.

"Is this not so?"

The cleric swallowed. "Yes, milady."

"And was it not you who spent all of yestereve bragging that you would bed me before this month was out?"

Adon stayed silent.

"No matter. I already know it to be so. Now listen here, foolish man. When and if I choose to take a lover is my business and mine alone! It has been, and shall ever be!"