"Marco,.John.-.Tyrants.And.Kings.3.-.Saints.Of.The.Sword" - читать интересную книгу автора (Marco John)

blast. Down the hall, he could see the man who was not his father
give him a peripheral glare of disgust. Elrad Leth snorted and
turned his attention back to his own window. He wasn't speaking to
anyone tonight, not even the king, and Alazrian knew that Elrad Leth
was a million miles away, preoccupied with things more important
than his wife's impending death. He had his hands behind his back,
the way he always did when he was contemplative, slapping one
into the palm of the other. His long body swayed a little as if he was
enjoying music, but his eyes never hinted at anything but disdain.
Elrad Leth cared for nothing, least of all his wife and "son," both of
whom he beat regularly. He took no joy in food or pageants or
expensive clothing, and the only time he smiled was when he
sensed his power over others. The way the storm lit his face was
frightful.

Elrad Leth, Governor of Aramoor province, waited impatiently for
King Tassis Gayle to conclude his last encounter with his daughter.
The family was dwindling now. Tassis Gayle had already lost his
son, and Alazrian worried that this new loss would send the old
man over the edge. Some were saying he had already passed it.
But if that was true, then Elrad Leth would be there at the bottom,
waiting for him.

But even in his grief, Tassis Gayle was different these days. As
Calida faded, the king grew vital, as if through some vampiric
magic he stole her years. Sorrow had given his life purpose, a
dimension it hadn't had for a decade. Grief had straightened his
spine and strengthened him, quelled his coughing fits. These days,
Tassis Gayle resembled the blood-thirsty warlord he had been in
his youth.

Leth paid his son no regard as they both stared out at the stormy
night. Alazrian could feel the man's disappointment. He had wanted
a strong son, like himself. Instead, Calida had delivered him a
bastard, and a weakling, too. Leth could prove nothing of Alazrian's
fatherhood, and Tassis Gayle would brook no talk against his
daughter's virtue. So Leth and Calida and Alazrian all kept up the
pretense, each of them knowing the truth, but Leth still smouldered
when he looked at the thin-boned son that was not his own.
Someday, Alazrian knew, the dam of his hatred would burst and
Alazrian would have nowhere to hide.

"Alazrian," called Leth from across the hall. "Come here."

The summons made Alazrian weak-kneed. He hated speaking to
Leth. He hated being around him. But he picked his way cautiously
across the hall and stood beside his so-called father, who sighed
as he contemplated the rain. Alazrian waited. Finally the governor
spoke.