"Michelle West - Winter Death" - читать интересную книгу автора (West Michelle)

passage through Evandale...then you are more than just her daughter." Gisel
walked away from the window and the light in the room grew. It was a cold light.
"There are people who are born with other talents; you must have heard their
stories. Some can summon fire; some can work great magic; some can heal with a
touch; some can hear the words that men don't speak aloud. Any of these,
untrained, are a danger to themselves, or to others. But Empaths can exist without
such training; they are often sympathetic, or perhaps skittish, because of what they
can sense. Feelings often run deeper than words; most men and women never
really learn how to adequately speak of what they feel.
"I have wine here, and water; would you care for either?"
Kayla shook her head.
"As you wish. I intend to have a great deal of the former before this is over." True
to her word, she poured herself a glass of a liquid that was a deep crimson, and
stared at its surface as if she could glean information from it.
"An Empath can do these things. It is why empaths have often made better
diplomats than those whose Gift it is to read the thoughts, the unspoken words of
others."
Kayla had only barely heard of people like that, and she had always feared them.
She said nothing.
"You'll be given your grays, and settled in, but you won't have the chance to train
and learn with the newest of the Chosen. Your work is already waiting, and—I'm
sorry child—but we don't have the time it would take to prepare you.
"This is a risk. I apologize for forcing you to take it. You know that the King has
three sons, yes?"
"And two daughters. Which is more children than—"
"Yes, yes."
"And they've all survived," Kayla added, unable to keep the bitterness out of the
words.
"It depends. The youngest of his sons was a...difficult lad. He doted on his
mother, the Queen. When she passed away, he drifted, and his father was not a
sensitive man; the running of the Kingdom during the border skirmishes kept him
away from the capital for much of the year.
"But Gregori was Chosen, in spite of his black moods and his despondency. His
Companion—" and here, she did flinch, "was Rodri. Rodri was as sensitive as
Gregori, and gentle in a way Gregori was not, and when Rodri did Choose him, we
rejoiced." Again the words were bitter.
"We rejoiced anew when we discovered that Gregori was Gifted; that he was an
Empath of exceptional power. It was part of the reason he was so withdrawn and
so moody as a child; he could not bear the constant anger, fear, and hatred that he
felt around him.
“The court...is not a suitable place for a child of such sensitivity."
"It's not just those things."
"What isn't?"
"That you feel. That I feel. There's more. There's joy. There's silliness."
"Magda did teach you, even if she didn't tell you what it was she was teaching."
"Rodri did teach Gregori to listen to those things, and Gregori—flourished. We
were grateful. The King was grateful."
She knew that the story was going someplace bad, and she almost raised a hand
to stem the flow of this autocratic woman's words. But she knew that would be a
mistake.