Elvenblood by Mercedes Lackey, Andre Norton Read Free Book Online Page A

That, Rena reflected, was probably a good thing. She had visited other manors where one never knew what was going to lie just outside a door—sometimes it might be a hallway, sometimes a ballroom, sometimes a precipice. Not a
real
precipice, of course, but the illusion of one was quite enough to frighten Rena out of her wits for a moment or two—which had been the whole point of the so-called joke.
    No, this was a perfectly ordinary pink marble hallway, lined with alabaster ums, which led to an ordinary pink marble staircase, which descended in a gentle curve to the next floor. Her own escort of human guards fell in behind her as she passed them just before she got to the landing of the staircase, moving silently. And hopefully Lord Tylar and Lady Viridina would be waiting for her at the foot of it,
having just
arrived there from their own preparations. Rena had been counting on her father's vanity to keep him at his preening—
    She paused at the head of the stairs and took a deep, steadying breath.
Head high. Walk slowly. Try to remember that stupid train; try to forget about the stupid escort. Pause between each step
…
    She took each stair of the curving staircase carefully, and stopped at the halfway point to listen to the voices ahead of her. Lord Tylar was holding forth on something, but he sounded pompous, not irritated, which meant she wasn't late.
    Thank goodness for small favors.
    She took the rest of the stairs at the same deliberate pace, knowing that if she rushed and looked the least bit undignified, Lord Tylar would be annoyed with her. He was going to have enough to be annoyed with her about before the evening was over; best not to give him more than she could manage.
    He
was
watching for her; her heart sank as she saw him turn toward the staircase as soon as she came into sight, and examine her every move with a critical eye. Her stomach tightened and she found it hard to take those deep, serene breaths.
    He's going to hate the dress, the hair, the cosmetics… he's going to hate how I'm walking
.… It was an automatic reaction, one she had every time she had to confront him. How could she help it? All he ever invoked in her was dread.
    He was a handsome man, even by elven standards, but even by those standards his expression and bearing were chill and detached. He stood much taller than Viridina and his daughter, by a head-and-a-half. His pale gold hair was worn as his grandfather had worn
his
, as if to invoke the memory of that formidable man; cut unfashionably short, and without the usual diadem or fillet that current mode dictated. His long, chiseled face bore no signs of emotion whatsoever, but Rena knew him well enough to be aware that the slight narrowing of his brilliant green eyes meant he was looking for faults to criticize.
    He and Lady Viridina were dressed in the same colors—or rather, lack of them—of ice-white and gold.
His
costume hinted at armor without actually
being
armor, hers was a more elaborate version of the same gown Rena wore. On Lady Viridina, however, the gown of pearly-white silk with iridescent moonbirds looked beautiful. The only touch of color that either of them wore was in the emeralds and beryls of their jewels; again, the Lady's jewels were copies of Rena's, but she carried them as if she did not notice their weight in the slightest Lord Tylar's jewels were simpler and fewer; belt, a single ring, a single armband, and a torque about his neck.
    Rena paused on the last stair to wait, trembling inside, for her father to speak.
    Silence stretched the moment into an eternity, as she strove to keep her trembling invisible.
    "Good," he said, finally, with grudging approval. "You are actually presentable."
    She kept her relief as invisible as her trembling, and took the last few steps across the marble between them. "Thank you, my Lord Father," she whispered. She hadn't
meant
to whisper, but somehow she couldn't raise her voice any further than that.
    "Well, let's not stand