"Jennifer Fallon - Second Sons 02 - Eye of the Labyrinth" - читать интересную книгу автора (Fallon Jennifer)

of a man who had been trained to handle weapons as soon as he was old enough to pick up a blade. The
men of the Queen’s Guard were competent, he decided, but not outstanding. There was not a man he
could see that he did not feel he could best. “So this is Antonov’s cub.”

They stopped and turned toward the voice. The man who had spoken was about the same height as
Kirsh, but of a much heavier build. He had tossed his shirt aside to train, and his well-developed muscles
glistened with sweat. He had a head of thick dark hair and a scowl that made Kirsh wonder if he
practiced it in the mirror each morning when he shaved. He glanced around to find all activity in the yard
had come to a halt. Everyone was staring at him. “This is our master-at-arms, Dargin Otmar,” the Lord
Marshal explained with a nod to the other man. “He’s all yours, Dargin. Try not to break him. Or
damage that pretty face of his. I believe the Princess Alenor may have a use for him someday.”

Kirsh stared after the Lord Marshal as he turned and headed back to the barracks.

“I hear you think you’re pretty good,” Dargin remarked, wiping his hands on his discarded shirt and
throwing it aside.

“I never claimed to be anything of the kind,” Kirsh answered, glancing around warily. The other men had
abandoned their training and were leaning on the railing of the yard, watching him with interest. He smiled
disarmingly. “Perhaps my reputation has preceded me.”
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“Oh, your reputation has preceded you, Latanya, I can promise you that.” Kirsh grinned and flexed his
fingers in anticipation. “What’s this then? The traditional let’s-beat-the-crap-out-of-the-new-boy
ceremony?” “No,” Dargin replied, “it’s more along the lines of a
let’s-make-certain-the-Lion-of-Senet’s-cub-knows-his-place ceremony. We’ve no room in the Queen’s
Guard for cowards, boy. It’s time to see if you’re a better man than your father.”

Kirsh’s grin faded. “I may be sworn to serve the Queen of Dhevyn, sir, but I’ll not allow you to insult my
father.”

“You’re not sworn to the queen, boy. That’s a privilege you’ve yet to earn. All you’re sworn to do is
stand at stud for the crown princess.” The rest of the guard roared with laughter. Kirshov looked around
him, hoping to see even the slightest hint that one of these men was on his side. It was an idle hope. Kirsh
looked back at Dargin and then nodded and began to unbutton his coat. “Very well. Which one of you is
it to be?” Dargin laughed harshly. “Either you really are as good as you think, or you’re a damn fool,
boy.”

Kirsh threw his jacket over the railing and shrugged his shoulders a few times to loosen them up, before
smiling coldly at the master-at-arms. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

Dargin’s fist was like a sledgehammer. It took Kirsh completely by surprise. He staggered backward,
blinking back the white spots that danced before his eyes, derisive laughter ringing in his ears. His jaw felt
as if it had been relocated on the other side of his head. Kirsh shook his head groggily, quashing the
anger that threatened to make him lose his temper, and turned to face Dargin. The metallic tang of blood
filled his mouth.