"Norton, Andre - Mercedes Lackey - Elvenblood" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

If only she could be outside! Sitting watching the butterflies in that meadow
Lorryn discovered--or riding along the wall around the estate--she thought
wistfully. For a long moment she was lost in her dreams of escape, her mind far
from this room and all it contained, as she imagined herself riding Lorryn's
spirited gelding in a headlong chase along the sandstone wall, the wind in her face,
and Lorryn only a pace or two ahead of her--

Lorryn, if only you could come and rescue me from this.1 Oh, that is a foolish
thought, you cannot even rescue yourself from the bindings of custom.

Two of her own chief attendants--castoffs from her father's harem, twin redheads
whose names she could never keep straight--said something to her directly and
waited for a response, shaking her out of her dreams. She shook her head slightly
and emerged from her thoughts.

"Please, my lady, it is time for the undergown," the right-hand girl repeated
quietly, with no expression whatsoever. Sheyrena stood up and allowed them to
bring the undergown to her. The slaves were all used to the way she sank into half-
trances by now, and if they felt any impatience with her, they were too well
trained to show it. No slave in the household of V'layn Tylar Lord Treves would
ever dare to display anything so insubordinate, as impatience with one of his elven
masters. Sheyrena's handmaids always wore the identical expressions of insipid
and vacuous pleasantry that one would find on the face of a formal portrait. That
was the way her father wanted it, but it always unnerved Sheyrena; she could
never tell what they were thinking.


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 Norton, Andre & Lackey, Mercedes - Elvenblood


If I knew what they were thinking, I would at least have some idea of how to think
of them. Then again, I doubt that their thoughts would be very flattering. There is
not much in me, I fear, to inspire a good opinion.

Obedient to their directions, she turned toward the four who bore the gown as
carefully as a holy relic, and lifted her arms. Silk slid softly against her flesh,
muffling her head for a breath, as three slaves pulled the sinuous, soft folds of the
sea-green undergown over her head and arms. They drew it down in place,
allowing the skirt to billow out around her bare feet. The sleeves and body were
cut to fit tightly with a plunging decolletage, the skin flared out from the hips,
billowing out into a long trailing train in the latest style--

So that I look like a green twig being tossed atop a wave. Very attractive. How can
they keep from laughing at me? Another selection by Lord Tylar, of course, to
show that his daughter was no stranger to the highest of fashion. Never mind that
the highest of fashion looked ridiculous on her. On the other hand, did she really
want to look attractive?