"MacAllister - 04 - Midsummer's Knight" - читать интересную книгу автора (MacGregor Kinley)

the Saracens.
It was then she'd known who this man was. Edward had spoken of Stryder's right
hand. The one man who had stayed in the shadows while Stryder had gained fame
and renown. He was one of the men who had never allowed others to know his name,
but who had comforted and protected them just the same.
"You are the Wraith."
He'd looked instantly uncomfortable at her words. "How do you know that name?"
"My brother never spoke to anyone other than me about your Brotherhood," she'd
hastened to assure him. "We never kept secrets, he and I. And I've never spoken
of his tales to another living soul. I promise you. He only wanted me to know of
you before he died so that I could uphold his foresworn oath."
The stranger had winced at her news as if someone had struck him. It had made
her feel even more tender toward him that he, too, shared her grief at the loss
of so noble a man.
"Edward is dead? How?"
"Of illness. He took a pox last spring."
"I'm sorry for your loss, my lady. Edward was a good man." He'd closed his hand
over the badge and started away from her. "I shall return this to Stryder and
tell him the news."
"Wait."
He'd paused and looked back at her.
"I don't know your name."
All emotion had vanished from his face, and he'd become the man of legend right
before her eyes. "I am the Wraith, my lady. I have no real name. Not in this."
"Can you at least get me close enough to Lord Stryder to thank him for
protecting my brother while you were imprisoned?"
He looked away at that. "Stryder doesn't like personal thank yous."
"May I at least write him then?"
The Wraith had nodded. "Aye. I shall see he receives it."
He had left her so quickly that she hadn't even had the chance to thank the
mysterious knight.
But then that was why they'd called him the Wraith. Her brother had told her
many stories of the Brotherhood of the Sword—the men who had banded together to
escape the Saracen prison where all of them had been held.
Lord Stryder had been called the Widow-maker due to his strength of arm and
willingness to kill whoever threatened those who fell under his protection.
The Wraith had been the one to gather information for them and run interference
with the guards. He'd been punished countless times so that their captors would
be distracted while the others tunneled their escape.
Even now, after spending a year of her life writing letters to Stryder, Kenna
didn't know the name of that mysterious knight. She'd asked Stryder for it only
once, and his response had been very curt and odd.
He is naught of consequence, my lady. Only a hollow, haunted ghost who is best
left to the memories of the past. Let us not speak of him.
She had never questioned it further. Her thoughts had quickly been taken over by
the fantasy of the fearless knight who wrote to her. Of the man who told her so
much of his heart that she had been powerless against the love that overwhelmed
her.
Perhaps Caledonia was right.
Stryder had shared so much with her that maybe her appearance had shocked him.