"Rosenberg,.Joel.-.Guardians.Of.The.Flame.06.&.07.-.To.Home.And.Ehvenor" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dragon Stories)

"I haven't been hunting in a long time," Jason said, tossing the weight of the world from his shoulders for
a moment. He relaxed, just a trifle.
I was tempted to turn this into a lesson about not assuming an invitation, but decided to let it pass. Ever
since Jason had traded the silver crown of the Emperor of Holtun-Bieme in on the barony, he hadn't had
a lot of time to relax, and he deserved a morning off.
"Sure," I said. "Come on."
"Good morning," Aeia Cullinane said as she walked into the breakfast room, my daughter Janie at her
side, the two of them complicating my day while they brightened it.
"Morning, Daddy. Morning, all." Janie bent to kiss me on the cheek. Short black hair and bangs that
always try to cover the eyes, thin limbs fleshing out almost daily, mannish leather breeches covered by a

muslin shirt belted tight to show slim waist and slender curves: my teenage daughter. Sixteen, barely, but
This Side sixteen, not Other Side sixteen. They seem to grow up faster here than I remember them doing
there.
"Morning, sweetness," I said.
She slipped into the chair next to Jason and reached for a hunk of bread while Aeia struck a pose while
pretending to decide where to sit. I didn't mind; I was enjoying the view.
There's a sharp mind behind the bright eyes that have just a touch of a slant to them. Part of her
sunbleached hair was bound behind her in a ponytail, leaving the rest to frame her face, wisps of hair
touching at high cheekbones. She was dressed, to the extent that shewas dressed, in a short white silk
robe, its hem cut diagonally, about knee-length on the left side, mid-thigh on the right. It was a great
view, but a bad idea, probably; the guards were a rough lot.
Jason frowned at his adopted sister. "Do me a favor?"
She tilted her head to the side. "Depends."
"Put some clothes on before you come out of your room, eh?" The master-of-the-house voice didn't
quite fit, not yet, but it was getting better.
"What do you call this?" she brushed a hand down one side.
"Trouble. I don't know what you've been doing in Biemestren, but that doesn't go here."
"Oh," she said, dismissing the point rather than acknowledging it. She smiled at me as she sat down next
to me, resting warm fingers on my arm for a moment as she pressed her leg up against mine. Not teasing,
just touching.
Explain something to me: why are women two degrees warmer than men are?
And why do I keep getting in trouble over women?
It's real simple, most of it: Ilike the ones I sleep with, whether or not they've got their clothes on,
whether or not they're willing to take them off. Add to that a certain amount of grooming and, er, charm,
and subtract the sense of desperation that most men have around pretty women, and I do okay, or get
into trouble, depending how you look at it.
Tennetty eyed her own fingernails. "I wouldn't worry. If there's anybody here who doesn't know what
happens if he lays a hand on Aeia or Janie, I'll explain it—"
"Thanks much, Ten," Janie said from around a bite of bread, "but I can explain things myself."
"—and if I need help, Dunne, Kethol, and Pirojil are always available." Tennetty considered the edge of
a knife I hadn't seen her draw. Like I say, I'm too slow in the morning. "I don't think I'll need help."
Jason brushed the objection away. "That wasn't what I meant. I don't want to have Bren jumping up and
down every time somebody looks crosswise at her."
"Not to worry." Aeia smiled, amused by the thought of Bren Adahan being jealous. "Maybe he'll be too

busy watching me to put his hands on Janie's bottom. It's important to keep the menfolk busy, Janie told
me last night."
She glanced over at Jason, then turned to me, to see if I noticed. I pretended not to, which only made
her smile more.