Read Online Roberson, Jennifer - Cheysuli 05 by A Pride of Princes (v1.0) - Free Book Online

her
lumped in the center of his draperied bed. She was little more than a knot of
red fur, with sharp jet nose tucked firmly beneath a black-tipped tail.
                Corin sighed and sat down on the
edge of the bed, staring disconsolately at his wrist as she worked the fingers.
I have involved myself in a tavern brawl, which is beneath me—or so I am told
by my jehan—and have drawn Caledonese blood, which may result in damaged trade
ties between Homana and Caledon . He paused. I have also been incredibly rude and disrespectful to my
jehan.
                Have you?
                "Aye," he said aloud, with
conviction. "Kiri, why is it I always say things I regret? Especially to
my jehan?”
                Because your mouth works
independently of your.brain.
                The vixen rose, shook her glossy red
pelt into order, came over to sit beside her lir. Her expression was made quizzical
by black mask and slanted amber eyes. Lir, one day you will learn,
                "Will I?" He sighed and
flopped backward, stretching out on the huge bed. "He threatens to send me
to Atvia in two or three years, lir ... and the gods know I have no wish to
go."
                Atvia is your place, the fox said.
You will be its king. Is that not a fine thing, and worth much pride?
                "A fine thing, aye," Corin
said on a deeper sigh, "and undoubtedly worth much pride. The trouble is,
I have little enough of that. I look at Hart and Brennan and see real warriors
and princes, while I am left to feel inferior,"
                All nonsense. Kiri settled her chin
on his muscular thigh, slanted eyes closing. You have a lir . . . you have
me—how could you possibly feel inferior?
                "A habit that often happens
when a warrior receives his lir late," Corin retorted. "I was
sixteen, Kiri, as you should well recall—both my rujholli were thirteen. I had
three years in which to fear I would never receive one, while Brennan flaunted
Sleeta and Hart learned to fly with Rael."
                And the Mujhar had nineteen years.
Kiri's tone plainly said Conn 's complaint had no foundation.
                A fist banged on the door. Corin
knew the sound extremely well. "Keely," he called, "now is not
the time to gloat."
                There came a muffled shout from the
other side. "I am not here to gloat—" His sister's voice broke off a
moment, then renewed itself. "What have you done now, Corin, that would
cause me to gloat?" Without waiting for his leave to enter, she pushed open
the heavy wooden door and slipped through, shutting it decisively. She stopped
dead; elbows jutted out as she locked hands on hips. "Oh, rujho . . . not
another fight."
                "No." Corin struggled up.
"I am in this state of disrepair because Deirdre's ladies could not keep
themselves from me." He looked down at his torn, soiled russet doublet- He
smelled of wine, smoke and lantern oil.
                "Did you win?" Keely
asked.
                "All three of us won."
                "Three . . ." Her blue
eyes, so like his own, narrowed.
                "Hart, of course . . . and
Brennan? Brennan?"
                "Brennan." Corin began to
work at his right boot, desiring to strip it off. "He came with us to keep
us from trouble, he said—and then promptly began the fight with Reynald."
                "Reynald? Einar's
brother?"
                "Cousin." A twinge of pain
shot through his injured wrist, and he swore. "The ku'reshtin tried to
force himself on a wine-girl, and then when she refused his attentions he
slapped her. She broke a jug and cut her hand."
                "And Brennan came to her
rescue." Keely's tone was dry; her expression indicated she, as much as
Corin, was less than enamored of Brennan's status as eldest—and