"Nancy Springer - Chains Of Gold" - читать интересную книгу автора (Springer Nancy)

lay in the straw trying to quiet my breathing, trying to listen above the clamor of my heart.
тАЬLonn?тАЭ a voice said softly, a masculine voice full of beauty and ardor, as if a song echoed in it. An
unaccountable thrill and yearning took hold of me at the mere sound of that voice.

He walked past me and stood at the door, whoever he was, seeming to find his way quite surely even in
the dense darkness. Who might he be, there in the deep of night? He stood for a while as if waiting, and
then he sighed, and I wondered the more. Idly he moved off, patting horses and whispering to them.

A light floated past the window, lantern glow, and the door opened.

тАЬLonn.тАЭ The same melodious voice spoke, gladness and relief in it.

тАЬWho else?тАЭ Lonn retorted lightly. He closed the door behind him, hung his lantern on a hook, and
unshielded it. I flattened myself in terror of the light.

тАЬI knew you would come.тАЭ The other strode over to stand beside him.

тАЬAnd I knew you would be here, taking comfort in the steeds. You have always been besotted by
animalsтАж Arlen, have you yet found yourself a modicum of sense?тАЭ

I shivered with surprise. It was the winterking himself, he who was destined to wed me and the!
Forthwith I moved, feeling that I must see him. Risking noiseтАФthe wailing of the wind masked most
noise, anywayтАФI sat up, inched forward, and found a crack in the boards, looked through itтАж

Great Mother of us all! No one had told me that he was young and tall and beautiful; how was I to
know? I had thought Lonn fair, but AdenтАЩs extravagant beauty stunned me. Some wanton energy filled
him so that his every move sang to me; he seemed godlike, almost shining, his very hair crisp and alive, as
if he wore a crown of flameтАФit was red, that marvelous many-tinged red of a chestnut horse in sunlight.
And the features of his face, surpassingly lovely, their symmetry, the fawn-hued sheen of his skin, and his
eyesтАФhis eyes were as green as green springtime grass. And I gasped in glad pain at the pathos of his
sad, smiling mouth.

Arlen of the Sacred Isle. With an eerie insight I knew, even then, that I would love him till I died.




TWO



тАЬA modicum of sense?тАЭ Arlen said, and he shook his glorious head, his hair shining like a red hawkтАЩs
feathers in firelight. тАЬWhat has sense to do with what is happening?тАЭ

Little enough, I thought, gasping again with the pain of my thawing feet. Little enough sense. They had
not heard me; my noise was lost in the sound of wind outside. Arlen smiled and sat on a barley bin, and
Lonn sat beside him, looking commonplace next to his splendor.

тАЬEven so, I must ask you yet once more to think,тАЭ said Lonn in that warm, steady way of his, and Arlen
glanced at him in annoyance.