"Andre Norton & Lackey, Mercedes - Elvenbane 1 -The Elvenbane" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

Not that it mattered to Serina; the mother was hardly a rival for Dyran's
fickle affections, nor, in an odd way, was the son. Dyran cared nothing for
his son, except as a possession, the all-important heir, and that was where his
interest in him ended. There had been a brief flurry of activity when the child
was brought to the manor and installed in the nursery; after that, everything
went back to normal. And that was all Serina knew or cared. Thanks to the
drugs in every human concubine's food, she would never be pregnant, except
at the Lord's orders, and then only by another human.

Still, keeping Dyran's attention could be terribly wearing...

She found herself eyeing one of the Lord's elite guards; a handsome brunette
youngster, firmly muscled, with a strong chin and earnest dark eyes, and
young enough that he might not be so hardened a beast as some of the
gladiators. In general, the guards were more personable than the duelists,
though they were just as well rewarded, and just as proud of their status.
There were weeks, months, when Dyran was away, that time sat heavy on
her hands, and the nights, especially, seemed to take forever to pass. No
elven lord took his concubines with him when he traveled; that would be
insulting the hospitality of his host. No matter how indispensable Serina
thought she had made herself, in the end, it seemed, she could be done
without...

Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to find herself a handsome young stud and
have herself assigned to him, to gracefully slip into retirement... Perhaps if
she pleased Dyran enough, when he tired of her, he would permit her to have
a mate of her own choosing. A youngster like that, perhaps, fresh enough to
be pliant to her wishes--

Demons! What was she thinking? Fool! That was a certain way to be
supplanted!

She strengthened her resolve never to even think of being replaced. It would
be better to die than become a breeder.

And as she schooled her expression into that sensuous smile Dyran liked, she
swore that she would keep Dyran's interest, no matter what it took.

A stumble over something hidden in the sand brought her to her hands and
knees, and brought an end to her drift into memory. Memory that was kinder
than reality...

She tried, and failed, to get to her feet, as the sun punished her unprotected
back.

It would be easy to give up; to lie in the sand and wait for death. She
wondered why she had ever thought death preferable to disgrace and
displacement. Death was no easy slide into sleep--it was the parched pain of
a dry throat and mouth, a need for water driving out all thoughts, the agony