"Fiona McIntosh - The Quickening - 02 - Blood and Memory" - читать интересную книгу автора (McIntosh Fiona)Chapter 37 Aremys waited outside the great doors that led into Cailech’s… Chapter 38 Wyl was admiring Elysius’s handiwork. “You did this?” he asked… Chapter 39 Fynch sat quietly with Elysius outside his small mud cottage… Epilogue The corpse of the former Duchess of Felrawthy had been… About the Author Also by Fiona McIntosh Credits About the Publisher Prologue He slid off the saddle to unsteady feet. Too flustered to tether the horse, Wyl trusted it to remain where he left it as he stumbled deeper into the copse and retched. The sickening need to be rid of the curse seemed to last an eternity as he desperately tried to yield it, rip the sorcery free from its sinister grip. At the rim of his addled mind Wyl acknowledged that this cold, moonlit night was too beautiful for death…once again. He believed he could taste the taint of the magic that had claimed his body hours earlier. Wyl did not want to remember it, but it was so fresh, so horrific, so ugly in his mind, he could not banish it. Commander Liryk of Briavel has smiled when the man called Romen Koreldy, newly banished from the realm, had suggested the Forbidden Fruit for their overnight stay before leaving for whichever border he chose. He had smiled in understanding, knowing that the mercenary had decided to drown his sorrows within the soft and welcoming embrace of a whore in the region’s well-known brothel. And he had smiled more widely when Romen had accepted the offer of Hildyth. The Commander had sampled her on a previous occasion and had known there could be no better place for his grieving companion to lose himself for a few hours. Wyl Thirsk, trapped in Koreldy’s body, had felt the same until the stiletto had buried itself deep into his heart, trying to take his life. Except it had not. Romen’s body released its trapped guest so it could travel…travel into Hildyth and claim her life instead. It was not a new experience for Wyl. He had felt that same wrenching sense of despair once before and even now could hardly believe it had happened once again. He was dry-retching now; knew he must |
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