"Rebecca Neason - 13th Scroll 02 - The Truest Power" - читать интересную книгу автора (Neason Rebecca)

pots soon, if you want to look at it first.”
“No,” Lysandra replied, heading for the cupboard where she kept her dishes stored.
“I’m sure you’ve done it right. You’ve learned a great deal in the short time you’ve been
here. But come, let’s have some tea. There are things we must say.”
Cups now in hand, she turned and saw that Selia’s aura had already begun to darken,
as if a bank of clouds was moving to block her inner sun. She knows what is coming,
Lysandra thought. Of course she does... her own heart is telling her, just as ours are
telling Renan and me. How can I get her to listen to what she knows but does not want
to hear?
Lysandra put the mugs down and opened the cupboard where she kept the herbs she
used for tea. She chose her favorite, a blend of wood betony and chamomile she kept
already mixed. Betony strengthened both the body and mind, and chamomile relaxed
while promoting clear thoughts and insight.
A kettle of hot water was always on the back of the stove, ready for use. Lysandra
bent her attention to the necessities of the tea, studiously ignoring the continued
darkening of Selia’s humor. Finally, steaming mugs in hand, she went to the table and sat,
willing her own calm to reach out and at least touch, if not envelop, her companion.
“Bring the honey with you,” she said in an even voice that, though soft, was a tone that
left no room for argument My mother’s voice, Lysandra thought with a small and wistful
smile, grateful that she could think of her family again. That, too, was part of her healing.
Selia brought the honey as asked, her footsteps speaking her reluctance as clearly as
any word. For a few minutes more, the silence continued as each woman fixed her tea the
way she liked it Then, finally, Selia drew a deep breath.
“I know what you’re going to say,” she began. “Father Renan has already said it ‘It’s
time to go, to leave here and continue with the task ahead.’ But I don’t want to go—and I
don’t want to finish anything that will make me be Queen.”
Lysandra said nothing. She sipped her tea and waited, letting Selia say everything,
logical or otherwise, that was boiling around inside her.
“You live a good life,” Selia continued when Lysandra did not speak. “You help others
here—people, animals, anyone who comes to you. The good you accomplish is tangible.
That’s something I want—not some abstract ‘good of the kingdom.’ I want to stay here, to
learn what you do and help you do it I’ve thought all about it and I don’t see any reason...
eventually you’ll need someone here. I mean, you’re not old or anything—yet—but what if
you were injured or sick? You need to have someone here, instead of living all alone...”
Her voice trailed off into the silence of both women unconvinced. Again, Lysandra
waited passively, giving Selia a chance to continue if she wanted. But now the younger
woman said nothing.
“Yes,” Lysandra affirmed softly. “I do live a good life here. Peaceful, meaningful... but
it is my life, Selia, and you cannot live it. Your own life awaits.”
Selia pushed her chair back abruptly and began to pace. “I don’t want that life,” she
said as she walked. “I don’t care about prophecies and Holy Words—or about what my
being Queen might mean. I don’t know how to be a Queen.”
“And that is one of the greatest gifts you’ll bring to the people,” Lysandra answered.
“This kingdom has had too many rulers who thought they knew what being a sovereign
meant—and to them it meant only power and profit. They ruled with greed instead of
wisdom, and for their own pleasure instead of the people’s good.
“But if it is too ‘abstract’ for you,” Lysandra quoted Selia’s word back to her, “to think
of the mothers who have put their children to bed hungry because the tax collectors have
taken every penny they needed to buy food, or what it will mean to this kingdom to suffer
a civil war until one Baron vanquishes the others and claims the crown—then think of