"Nancy Springer - Isle 03 - The Sable Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Springer Nancy)

He will come for them on the morrow, she thought, and the thought made her glad to overflowing. She
undressed in the dark and lay awake on her narrow bed, feeling the touch of his kiss still on her lips. It
was the first kiss she had ever known.
All the way back to the manor, Trevyn berated himself. It was mad and cruel, he scolded, to give the girl
hopes. For surely he could have no serious thoughts of her! She was a



commoner, without education, dower, or social grace. And she was homely, or at least so he had once
thought. . . . But he was the Prince of the realm, gifted with knowledge, power, and beauty. Surely there
would be a princess for him, a woman worthy of his regardтАФperhaps an elfin princess in fair Elwestrand
across the sea! He must not see Meg again, he decided, not even for parting. He did not care to cause a
scene.

When he reached his chamber, he found Gwern lounging on his bed, looking more presentable since his
bath. The fey youth sat up to greet Trevyn with a perfectly unreadable face. Trevyn meant to ask him
how he knew about the ancient sword of Lyrdion, why he had sung his eerie song. But Gwern spoke
first.

"Meg is a beautiful girl," he said. There was no trace of mockery in his voice, and Trevyn knew by now
that Gwern only spoke the most straightforward truth. Such truth sent a pang through him.

"What of it?" he retorted gruffly.

"I would like to know her better. Where does she live?"

"You!" Trevyn flared in sudden anger. "You are only fit to consort with pigs! Stay away from her!"

Gwern gravely rose from the bed. "Why, she is only a commoner, and you think she is homely," he
replied without heat. "And you have decided to cast her aside. Do you grudge me your castoffs?"

"I grudge you life and breath," grated Trevyn between clenched teeth. He was white with rage; he had
never felt such rage. "Stay away from her, I say!"

"Why, you need not worry," Gwern remarked reasonably. "She is the Maiden, you know. Where she
would not have you, she will not have me."

Trevyn sprang at him, knocking him to the floor with one smashing fist. Blood trickled from Gwern's
nose. But this time he did not punch back. Trevyn stood panting, helpless to vent his wrath, and vaguely
ashamed.

Gwern got up, taking no notice of his gory nose. He went to the door. "I will tender her your parting
regards," he told Trevyn levelly, "since you will not face her." There was no fight in his words, only fact.
Desperately, Trevyn hit him



again, hard enough to split his own knuckles. Gwern stag┬мgered and shrugged off the blow.