JК
The Floodgate :: Каннингем Элейн
Страница: 100 из 212Very well, I will see thiswizard and learn what I can."
Acting on impulse, Tzigone threw her arms around Matteo's neck. From the corner of her eye, she noted two white-clad men coming from the palace gate. Mischief seized her, and she let herself drop. Matteo's arms went instinctively around her to keep her from falling. After a moment she released him and stepped back, her eyes twinkling and her lips curved in a lazy, replete smile.
"Oh no, my lord," she protested breathlessly as she handed him back his own coin bag. "Who could put a price on such mastery?"
She heaved a deep sigh and smoothed her hair. Then, turning, she sauntered off with a doxie's undulating swish.
She glanced back and grinned when she noted the respectful stares the other jordaini sent Matteo. One of the men clapped him on the shoulder in comradely fashion as he passed.
Matteo glowered at her and closed the distance between them with a few quick strides. "You were worried about your reputation," Tzigone said innocently, backing up to keep her distance. "It seems to have risen a trifle."
His stern expression wavered, and his lips twitched in a reluctant smile. Quickly he reclaimed his scowl and snatched up a melon from a passing cart. He tossed a coin to the protesting merchant, and then hefted the melon and aimed it at Tzigone.
She fled with a startled squeal, scurrying into an alcove in the thick wall of the palace. When no missile hurtled by, she chanced a glimpse out.
Matteo stood a few paces away. He held out a neatly carved slice. "Breakfast?"
Tzigone took the offered fruit and patted the bench beside her. Matteo settled down. In companionable silence, the queen's counselor and the painted street waif shared the fruit and split the loaf that Tzigone produced from her bag. For once, Matteo didn't ask her how she'd come by it. Nor did he comment upon the strange looks that passersby sent the mismatched pair.
They did not speak of the differences that separated them or the troubles that bound them. Nonetheless, by the time the sun edged over the eastern wall of the city, the darkness had likewise lifted from Tzigone's heart.
Chapter Twelve
Matteo went directly to Dhamari Exchelsor’s tower, confident that he would be received. No one refused the queen's jordain, though the reasons for this hospitality varied. Matteo was well accustomed to receptions that ranged from extreme wariness to blatant ambition, depending upon which sort of news was anticipated.
Acting on impulse, Tzigone threw her arms around Matteo's neck. From the corner of her eye, she noted two white-clad men coming from the palace gate. Mischief seized her, and she let herself drop. Matteo's arms went instinctively around her to keep her from falling. After a moment she released him and stepped back, her eyes twinkling and her lips curved in a lazy, replete smile.
"Oh no, my lord," she protested breathlessly as she handed him back his own coin bag. "Who could put a price on such mastery?"
She heaved a deep sigh and smoothed her hair. Then, turning, she sauntered off with a doxie's undulating swish.
She glanced back and grinned when she noted the respectful stares the other jordaini sent Matteo. One of the men clapped him on the shoulder in comradely fashion as he passed.
Matteo glowered at her and closed the distance between them with a few quick strides. "You were worried about your reputation," Tzigone said innocently, backing up to keep her distance. "It seems to have risen a trifle."
His stern expression wavered, and his lips twitched in a reluctant smile. Quickly he reclaimed his scowl and snatched up a melon from a passing cart. He tossed a coin to the protesting merchant, and then hefted the melon and aimed it at Tzigone.
She fled with a startled squeal, scurrying into an alcove in the thick wall of the palace. When no missile hurtled by, she chanced a glimpse out.
Matteo stood a few paces away. He held out a neatly carved slice. "Breakfast?"
Tzigone took the offered fruit and patted the bench beside her. Matteo settled down. In companionable silence, the queen's counselor and the painted street waif shared the fruit and split the loaf that Tzigone produced from her bag. For once, Matteo didn't ask her how she'd come by it. Nor did he comment upon the strange looks that passersby sent the mismatched pair.
They did not speak of the differences that separated them or the troubles that bound them. Nonetheless, by the time the sun edged over the eastern wall of the city, the darkness had likewise lifted from Tzigone's heart.
Chapter Twelve
Matteo went directly to Dhamari Exchelsor’s tower, confident that he would be received. No one refused the queen's jordain, though the reasons for this hospitality varied. Matteo was well accustomed to receptions that ranged from extreme wariness to blatant ambition, depending upon which sort of news was anticipated.