Book: Kiss the winner

Another bird of prey with a sharp beak flew up on the battlements and gazed at Arina with her head. Her claws clung to the stone. Feathers lace veil of snow.
The message that brought this hawk was brief.
"ARIN,
let me in.
Kestrel".

You are Emperor. Did You mean public opinion?

"I want to Express my gratitude," said the dressmaker.
"I don't deserve her," replied God.
"However, I want to thank you."
God did not answer. Dressmaker hand did not move.
God said, "Then weave me the cloth of yourself."
The dressmaker put their hands in it. She kissed God, and he took her.

Once in the world lived the dressmaker, who was able to weave the matter of feelings. She sewed gowns of delight: a lightweight, lustrous and smooth. Kroil ambition and passion, calmness and ingenuity. Now, she in a measure mastered his craft that it drew the attention of one of the gods. He decided to use her services.
- What is God?
- Shh, - she said Iney. As happens in dreams, Kestrel found herself in his baby bed, which was decorated with carved animals. Of Iney sat beside her, straightening his shoulders elegantly. This posture Kestrel has always tried to adopt. Nanny continued his tale: - God came to the seamstress and said, "I want a shirt of appeasement".
"Gods don't need such things," replied the dressmaker. God looked at her in the face.
The girl recognized in his eyes the threat.
She obeyed his request, and when God wore a shirt, that fit him perfectly. Color transformed him, and his face no longer seemed so pale. The dressmaker looked at God and thought about what to say did not dare.
God has generously paid her in gold, though the seamstress didn't ask for money. He was happy with.
However, all is not over. God returned and demanded that the tailor made him a coat of affection. No sooner had the girl to answer as he left. They both knew that she'd obey.
The seamstress finished the hem of the cloak, when the day came, the old woman and began to examine those things that could not afford it. She reached over the counter, which worked as a dressmaker. Wrinkled fingers froze over the cloak of affection. In the dim eyes there was a sparkle of such anguish that the dressmaker gave the old woman a Cape and asked for nothing. She could sew another one and quickly.
But God was even more rapid. He returned to the village earlier than promised. Who did he see, if not sleeping by the fire the old woman, wrapped in a cloak, which was way too big for her? What he felt, if not the grip of betrayal, sharp and deep stab of jealousy, which he should be ashamed?
Quiet as usual, he reappeared in the shop of a dressmaker, like the night cold. "Give me my cloak" he demanded.
Dressmaker clutching a needle. She was barely able to protect themselves from God. "He's not ready," she said.
"The liar".
The word Kestrel pressed her weight, and she asked:
In this tale I am the dressmaker or God?

Of Iney said:
- Tell me a tale to make you feel better.
- I'm not sick.
- No, ill.
I don't need fairy tales. I have to Wake up.
- And then what?
Kestrel didn't know.

- Who Are You?
- I am lady Kestrel, - she croaked. Unbidden, horrible, wrong, she broke memorized words, and before she could stop them: - the Daughter of General Trajan. Garanty captured Peninsula...

She was memorizing the words that will tell when it reaches the port of the capital. "I am lady Kestrel, the daughter of General Trajan. Garanty seized the Peninsula. You must recall my father from the East and send him to suppress the rebellion.
Should".

Didn't matter that on the trail Kestrel was ahead of him. ARIN could zip through the city in the open, while Kestrel crept through the alleys.
Their eyes met, and Kestrel felt completely defenseless.
But she had a weapon. He's not at least in sight. Her hand instinctively fell to the jagged blade of the knife.
ARIN saw it. Kestrel didn't know what came to the surface before: it is a sharp pain, so evident and strong, or confident, equally clear, equally strong, that she can never raise a gun at him.

The girl slipped into the shadows of the city.
If they were created by magic. If germanskie the gods have turned away from his people. No one noticed the Kestrel while it was sneaking along the walls, and didn't hear under her weight cracked the ice on puddles. Neither a wanderer looked in her face and didn't recognize her valerianka. No one saw the General's daughter. Kestrel reached the harbour and went down to the pier.
Where was waiting for ARIN.

Kestrel raced through the Garden district, directing the cavalry at Javelina trails to downtown. She has almost reached it lights when from the hills behind her came the clatter of hooves of another horse with the rider.
The spine Kestrel swept cold. The fear that this rider was ARIN.
Fear excited by sudden hope that it was really him.

"Say," murmured they.
"Say," asked kiss.

You're a terrible. So help me gods if I cross your path, Kestrel.
- Have you moved, said the girl.
But am I your enemy? - ARIN crossed the distance between them and softly said, - the Enemy.

You know, no matter how well you sing at nine years old, if you are a boy. When there is a change, we can only hope for the best...hope that your voice will be the way you will again be able to love him. My voice started to crack two years after the invasion. Oh gods, I squeaked. And when my voice was established, it seemed like a trick. He was too good. I didn't know what to do with it. I was so happy that I have this gift...and was angry because it meant so little. And now...

What would her father say if he knew how she hesitated, how near sometimes the desire to remain a privileged prisoner? He'd disowned her. His child would never submit to.