"MacAllister - 04 - Midsummer's Knight" - читать интересную книгу автора (MacGregor Kinley)

Blackmoor.
Draven and Sin had allowed him to survive the horrors of his childhood at
Ravenswood, and Stryder had been the one who had kept him sane and whole while
living in the hell that was a Saracen prison.
There was nothing he wouldn't do for them.
"Si?"
Simon looked to Stryder, who was to his right, mounting his horse.
Once settled on his horse, Stryder flashed him a taunting grin. "Are you
daydreaming again, man? Pick up your sword and stand ready."
Simon scoffed at him. "Daydreaming? Ha! Merely plotting the way I intend to
spend my winnings this day when I unhorse you."
Stryder laughed aloud at that. He inclined his head toward the red ribbon Simon
had tied around his biceps. "Who's the fortunate lady?"
"She's no concern of yours."
He smiled knowingly. "Mayhap I'll take a bit of pity on you then and let you get
in a few blows before I undignify you. With any luck, she might be willing to
kiss your injuries."
If only Simon could be so lucky.
But alas, his lady was far away from him.
She would always be so. It wasn't possible for a pebble to touch a star. And she
was a star. Bright, shining. Yet so far above him that he dare not even look at
her because in the end, he could never lay claim to her.
He glanced down at the ribbon and his heart ached.
The heralds called them to field, and the day proved to be a long one.
How Simon grew weary of the tournament circuit. Unlike Stryder, he saw no use in
it. But he stayed out of loyaltyЧStryder needed someone to protect him who was
beyond bribery.
And for the price on Stryder's head, those people were far too few and rare.
As the day finally drew to a close, Simon found himself with Stryder and
Christopher, walking toward their tents as women tried to grab Stryder and
proposition him.
"It's a sad sight, isn't it?" Christopher asked wearily. "Methinks I should have
the armorer make a larger helm for tomorrow so that it can fit over Stryder's
big head."
Simon laughed at that. "Indeed, but I fear a shortage in steel might occur if we
tried to accommodate his ugly noggin."
Stryder scoffed. "You're both just jealous. I have my choice of bedmates, while
the two of you sleep alone."
Simon passed a knowing look to Christopher. "It seems to me, Kit, that there's
only enough room in his bed for him and his ego. It makes one wonder how he ever
manages to squeeze a woman in."
Christopher laughed.
"A pox on both of you," Stryder said.
Simon smiled. "And one on your ego."
Stryder grunted, walking with his head down as he fumbled with a knotted lace on
his cuirass.
When they rounded a tent, a shadow caught Simon's eye. He barely had time to
react as a man came rushing at Stryder with a drawn dagger.
Before the assassin could reach his friend, Simon grabbed him and, after a brief
struggle, threw the man to the ground. Simon disarmed him quickly and held him