"Paul Thompson - [Elven Nations Trilogy 1] - Firstborn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Thompson Paul B)

"And stop following me!"
The servants halted as if arrow-shot. Prince Kith-Kanan rattled down
the stone steps into the palace. As it was early summer, all the window
shutters were open, flooding the interior corridors with light. He strode
along, scarcely acknowledging the bows and greetings of the servants and
courtiers he met. The length of the shadows on the floor told him he was
late. She would be angry, being kept waiting.
Kith-Kanan breezed out the main entrance of the palace. Guards in
burnished armor snapped to attention as he passed. His mood lightened
with every step he took toward the Gardens of Astarin. So what if his
father dressed him down later? It wouldn't be the first time, by any means.
Any amount of lecturing was worth his hurried flight home to be on time
for his rendezvous with Hermathya.
The gardens bulked around the base of the great tower. Not long after
Silvanos, founder of the elven nation, had completed the Tower of the
Stars, priests of the god Astarin asked for permission to create a garden
around the structure. Silvanos gladly granted their request. The clerics laid
out a garden in the plan of a four-pointed star, each point aligned with one
of the cardinal directions. They wove spells granted to them by Astarin,
the Bard King, spells that formed the trees and flowers in wonderful ways.
Thornless red and white roses grew in delicate spirals around the trunks of
evergreen oaks. Wisteria dripped purple blossoms into still, clear pools of
water. Lilacs and camellias drenched the air with their perfume. Broad
leaves of ivy spread over the garden paths, shading them and protecting
strollers from all but the harshest rains. And most remarkably, laurels and
cedars grew in circular groves, their tops coming together to form perfect
shelters, where elves could meditate. Silvanos himself had favored a grove
of laurels on the west side of the garden. When the august founder of the
elven nation had died, the leaves on the laurels there changed from green
to gold, and they remained that way ever after.
Kith-Kanan did not enter the Gardens of Astarin by one of the paths.
In his deerskin boots, he crept silently beside the shoulder-high wall of
spell-shaped mulberry. He hoisted himself over the wall and dropped
down on the other side, still without a sound. Crouching low, he moved
toward the grove.
The prince could hear the impatient rustle of footsteps inside the
golden grove. In his mind he saw Hermathya pacing to and fro, arms
folded, her red-gold hair like a flame in the center of the gilded trees. He
slipped around to the entrance to the grove. Hermathya had her back to
him, her arms folded tight with vexation. Kith-Kanan called her name.
Hermathya whirled. "Kith! You startled me. Where have you been?"
"Hurrying to you," he replied.
Her angry expression lasted only a moment longer, then she ran to
him, her bright blue gown flying. They embraced in the arched entry of
Silvanos's retreat. The embrace became a kiss. After a moment,
Kith-Kanan drew back a bit and whispered, "We'd best be wary. My father
is in the tower. He might see us."
In answer, Hermathya pulled the prince's face down to hers and kissed
him again. Finally, she said breathlessly, "Now, let us hide." They entered
the shelter of the laurel grove.