Игра престолов

Catelyn

           Lysa,freshlyscrubbedandgarbedincreamvelvetwitharopeofsapphiresandmoonstonesaroundhermilk-whiteneck,washoldingcourtontheterraceoverlookingthesceneofthecombat,surroundedbyherknights,retainers,andlordshighandlow.Mostofthemstillhopedtowedher,bedher,andruletheValeofArrynbyherside.FromwhatCatelynhadseenduringherstayattheEyrie,itwasavainhope.

           AwoodenplatformhadbeenbuilttoelevateRobert’schair;theretheLordoftheEyriesat,gigglingandclappinghishandsasahumpbackedpuppeteerinblue-and-whitemotleymadetwowoodenknightshackandslashateachother.Pitchersofthickcreamandbasketsofblackberrieshadbeensetout,andtheguestsweresippingasweetorange-scentedwinefromengravedsilvercups.Afool’sfestival,Bryndenhadcalledit,andsmallwonder.

           Acrosstheterrace,LysalaughedgailyatsomejestofLordHunter’s,andnibbledablackberryfromthepointofSerLynCorbray’sdagger.TheywerethesuitorswhostoodhighestinLysa’sfavor...today,atleast.Catelynwouldhavebeenhard-pressedtosaywhichmanwasmoreunsuitable.EonHunterwasevenolderthanJonArrynhadbeen,half-crippledbygout,andcursedwiththreequarrelsomesons,eachmoregraspingthanthelast.SerLynwasadifferentsortoffolly;leanandhandsome,heirtoanancientbutimpoverishedhouse,butvain,reckless,hot-tempered...and,itwaswhispered,notoriouslyuninterestedintheintimatecharmsofwomen.

Настройки
Фон страницы
Размер шрифта
Межстрочный интервал
Фразовые глаголы
Показать / Скрыть меню
Шрифт
Roboto Lora
Уведомления
Страница 570 из 1073