She did so, in clear, succinct, but on the whole polite terms. Liss’s eyes grew bright as the stars outside, as she listened attentively. Ista was relieved, though not surprised, that Liss seemed neither confused nor shocked. Ista hadn’t quite expected enthusiastic, however. She found herself swept within, and the door firmly closed behind her, almost before she’d finished speaking.
“I think I shall go sit on the steps a while, dear Royina,” Liss’s voice called back faintly through the wood. “It’s cooler. I think I shall like to sit out for quite a long time.” Ista heard the outer door close, as well.
Illvin’s eyes were crinkling with silent laughter. He held out one of the fruits to her; she took it, her hand jerking a little when her fingers accidentally brushed his. “Well,” he said, raising his to his lips. “Let us both be brave, then …”
She matched his bite. The apricot tasted as wonderful as it looked and smelled, and despite her attempts at daintiness, she ended with juice dribbling down her chin. She dabbed at it. “Oh, dear …”
“Here,” he said, moving closer, “let me help you …”
The kiss lasted quite a long time, with his apricot-scented fingers winding pleasurably in her hair. When they paused for breath, she remarked, “I always feared it would take divine intervention to find me a lover … I do believe I was right.”
“Tch, tch, look at yourself, bittersweet Ista. Saint, sorceress, dowager royina of all Chalion-Ibra, converses with gods, when not cursing them—a man would have to be maniacally intrepid to even think of you in that rude way… . This is good. It will cut down on my rivals.”
She couldn’t help it; she giggled. She heard herself, and laughed, in wonder, in joy, in huge surprise. He tasted her laughter, too, as though it were miraculous apricots.
And I was afraid I wouldn’t know how to do this.
He’d looked tall and splendid, in the long sweep of black tunic and trousers and boots, but he looked even better out of them, she thought, as she pulled him down beside her on her bed. The warm night demanded neither sheets nor blankets. She left a brace of candles burning, the better to see the god’s gifts.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lois McMaster Bujold, a four-time Hugo and two-time Nebula award winner, burst upon the science fiction world in 1986 with the first of the Miles Vorkosigan Saga novels, Shards of Honor. The mistress of cult classics now takes up her prolific pen to produce a romantic epic of the most fantastic magnitude, which commences with The Curse of Chalion and Paladin of Souls, both available from HarperCollins e-books. Please visit her at www.dendarii.com.
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OTHER BOOKS BY
Lois McMaster Bujold
The Curse of Chalion
Paladin of Souls
The Curse of Chalion
The Spirit Ring
Falling Free
Shards of Honor
Barrayar
The Warrior’s Apprentice
The Vor Game
Cetaganda
Ethan of Athos
Borders of Infinity
Brothers in Arms
Mirror Dance
Memory
Komarr
A Civil Campaign
COPYRIGHT
PALADIN OF SOULS. Copyright © 2003 by Lois McMaster Bujold. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition © SEPTEMBER 2003 ISBN: 9780061748905
Version 09282012
FIRST EDITION
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
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Paladin of Souls (Curse of Chalion) Page 49
