"David Eddings. Castle of wizardry enchanters' end game (The Belgariad, Part two)" - читать интересную книгу автора

perfidious young man. She had known it would happen. The minute she had
let him out of her sight, he had run headlong into the arms of the first
girl who happened by. How dared he? How dared he!
As the group on the far side of the lake began to come across the
causeway, Ce'Nedra's heart sank. The tall girl was lovely. Her dark hair
was lustrous, and her features were perfect. Desperately, Ce'Nedra looked
for some flaw, some blemish. And the way the girl moved! She actually
seemed to flow with a grace that nearly brought tears of despair to
Ce'Nedra's eyes.
The greetings and introductions seemed hardly more than some incoherent
babble to the suffering princess.
Absently she curtsied to the king of the Algars and his lovely queen.
Politely she greeted the lushly beautiful woman - Taiba, her name was -
whom Lady Polgara introduced to her. The moment she was dreading was
approaching, and there was no way she could forestall it.
"And this is Adara," Lady Polgara said, indicating the lovely creature
at Garion's side. Ce'Nedra wanted to cry.
It wasn't fair! Even the girl's name was beautiful. Why couldn't it
have been something ugly?

"Adara," Lady Polgara continued, her eyes intently on Ce'Nedra's face,
"this is her Imperial Highness, the Princess Ce'Nedra."
Adara curtsied with a grace that was like a knife in Ce'Nedra's heart.
"I've so wanted to meet your Highness,"
the tall girl said. Her voice was vibrant, musical.
"Charmed, I'm sure," Ce'Nedra replied with a lofty superiority. Though
every nerve within her screamed with the need to lash out at this detested
rival, she held herself rigid and silent. Any outburst, even the faintest
trace of dismay showing in her expression or her voice would make this
Adara's victory complete. Ce'Nedra was too much a princess - too much a
woman - to permit that ultimate defeat. Though her pain was as real as if
she were in the hands of a torturer, she stood erect, enclosed in all the
imperial majesty she could muster. Silently she began to repeat all of her
titles over and over to herself, steeling herself with them, reminding
herself grimly just who she was. An Imperial Princess did not cry. The
daughter of Ran Borune did not snivel. The flower of Tolnedra would never
grieve because some clumsy scullery boy had chosen to love somebody else.
"Forgive me, Lady Polgara," she said, pressing a trembling hand to her
forehead, "but I suddenly seem to have the most dreadful headache. Would
you excuse me, please?" Without waiting for an answer, she turned to walk
slowly toward the Gorim's house. She paused only once, just as she passed
Garion. "I hope you'll be very happy," she lied to him.
He looked baffled.
It had gone too far. It had been absolutely necessary to conceal her
emotions from Adara, but this was Garion, and she had to let him know
exactly how she felt. "I despise you, Garion," she whispered at him with a
terrible intensity, "and I don't ever want to lay eyes on you again."
He blinked.
"I don't think you can even begin to imagine how much I loathe the very
sight of you," she added. And with that she continued on into the Gorim's