"Kate Elliott - Jaran 4 - The Law of Becoming" - читать интересную книгу автора (Elliott Kate)

A shudder shook through Vasha, so hard that at first he thought he could not walk. But Nadine
Orzhekov was all he had. When she swept the entrance flap aside and ducked in, he followed tight
against her, practically hugging her side. Vasha had never felt more afraid in his life.

Two men stood on either side of a table in the outer chamber. In that first instant, glimpsing
them—one dark and stern, one fair and breathtakingly handsome—either one could have been the
man he had dreamed of all these years. Dressed simply, and yet gifted with the commanding presence
a general and great leader must have. Both tall. Both of them radiant. He could have fallen at the feet
of either of them, and been happy to gain their notice. He clenched his hands and fought back tears.
And remembered that his mother had always spoken of Bakhtiian as a dark-featured man.

Like an answer to his thought, the dark man started forward and embraced Nadine. "Dina! Have
you just ridden in? Where is the prince?"

"About two days behind us, with the pack train. I rode ahead, Uncle."

Oh, gods. Bakhtiian looked past her. It took every ounce of courage that Vasha possessed to hold
his ground against that severe gaze. Bakhtiian had dark hair, a beard, and eyes that pierced right
through him. "Who is this?" he demanded of his niece, without taking his eyes off of Vasha.

"I see I've come at just the right time," replied Nadine sarcastically. "Where is Tess?"

"Come here. What's your name?"

Vasha gulped down a breath and stepped out from behind Nadine, into the full force of Ilyakoria
Bakhtiian's stare.

"Vasha, this is Bakhtiian," said Nadine brusquely. "Pay your respects."

All the years of waiting and dreaming weighed on him. He had never believed it would come to
this. How badly he wanted to make a good impression. "I am Vassily Kireyevsky," he said softly,
because it was all the volume he could manage. "My mother was Inessa Kireyevsky."

"Inessa Kireyevsky! Gods." Bakhtiian stared at him, and Vasha wanted only to drown, to spin
away into the air, into nothing. The haze descended once again, and although he knew the others went
on talking, he paid no attention to them, he only stared at Bakhtiian, memorizing him, the man he had
never seen and yet knew as well as .. . his own father. But a spark rose burning within, fighting his
paralysis: Bakhtiian remembered Inessa Kireyevsky. That was hopeful.

The curtain into the inner chamber stirred and opened, and a woman stepped out. "Isn't Inessa
Kireyevsky the one you lay with out on the grass, under the stars?" Her voice was low, touched with a
kind laughter, generous and full.

Bakhtiian did not shift his gaze from Vasha, and the boy felt smothered under the weight of his
stare. "You've a good memory, my wife," he said in that same even voice that smothered the turmoil in
its depths.

"For some things," she replied.

An odd accent graced her voice, light, even pleasing, but obvious. Vasha tore his gaze away from