"Andre Norton & Lackey, Mercedes - Elvenbane 2 - Elvenblood" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

Lorryn, if only you could come and rescue me from this.1 Oh, that is a
foolish thought, you cannot even rescue yourself from the bindings of
custom.

Two of her own chief attendants--castoffs from her father's harem, twin
redheads whose names she could never keep straight--said something to her
directly and waited for a response, shaking her out of her dreams. She shook
her head slightly and emerged from her thoughts.

"Please, my lady, it is time for the undergown," the right-hand girl repeated
quietly, with no expression whatsoever. Sheyrena stood up and allowed
them to bring the undergown to her. The slaves were all used to the way she
sank into half-trances by now, and if they felt any impatience with her, they
were too well trained to show it. No slave in the household of V'layn Tylar
Lord Treves would ever dare to display anything so insubordinate, as
impatience with one of his elven masters. Sheyrena's handmaids always
wore the identical expressions of insipid and vacuous pleasantry that one
would find on the face of a formal portrait. That was the way her father
wanted it, but it always unnerved Sheyrena; she could never tell what they
were thinking.

If I knew what they were thinking, I would at least have some idea of how to
think of them. Then again, I doubt that their thoughts would be very
flattering. There is not much in me, I fear, to inspire a good opinion.

Obedient to their directions, she turned toward the four who bore the gown
as carefully as a holy relic, and lifted her arms. Silk slid softly against her
flesh, muffling her head for a breath, as three slaves pulled the sinuous, soft
folds of the sea-green undergown over her head and arms. They drew it
down in place, allowing the skirt to billow out around her bare feet. The
sleeves and body were cut to fit tightly with a plunging decolletage, the skin
flared out from the hips, billowing out into a long trailing train in the latest
style--

So that I look like a green twig being tossed atop a wave. Very attractive.
How can they keep from laughing at me? Another selection by Lord Tylar,
of course, to show that his daughter was no stranger to the highest of
fashion. Never mind that the highest of fashion looked ridiculous on her. On
the other hand, did she really want to look attractive?

No. No, I don t. I don't want a husband, I don't want any changes; as
pathetic as my life is now, I do not want to find myself the property of some
lord like my father. And since Father chose all of this for me, he can hardly
blame me for looking ridiculous. That, in and of itself, was a relief. If
Sheyrena failed tonight, her father would be looking for someone or
something to blame, and it would be best if she gave him no excuse to place
that blame on her. Lord Tylar had made it clear to his wife and daughter that
this particular fete was of paramount importance to the House of Treves. The
glee on his face when he had received the invitation, not only to attend, but