Поцелуй разочaрования

Pearson Mary E, “The kiss of deception”, public translation into English from English More about this translation.

Another translations: into Russian. Translate into another language.


NastyaSS 6191 points
Michaboulali 783 points
Atkachova 488 points
And others...
Join Translated.by to translate! If you already have a Translated.by account, please sign in.
If you do not want to register an account, you can sign in with OpenID.
Pages: previous Ctrl next next untranslated

I sat up, disoriented. The sun was peeking through the west window. I had slept the whole afternoon. Another tap. “Berdi?”

“It’s only me. I’ll just leave this out here.”

“No. Wait,” I called.

I jumped up and limped to the door, my ankle more painfully stiff now than it had been earlier. Rafe stood there with his finger hooked through the strings of the two bundles I had dropped in the forest. I took them from him and set them on the bed, and when I turned to face him again, he was holding out two delicate garlands, one pink, one lavender. “I think these are like the ones you had?”

I bit my lip and then finally whispered a small inadequate thank-you as he placed them in my hands. An awkward moment passed, both of us looking at each other, looking away, and then looking back again.

“Your neck?” he finally asked turning his head to the side to look at my bandage. I remembered how, only hours ago, his thumb slid across my skin and he held his kerchief to the wound.

“Berdi said the cut was no bigger than a fleabite. Mostly a bad scrape.”

“But you’re limping.”

I rubbed my shoulder. “I hurt all over.”

“You fought hard.”

“I had no choice,” I said. I stared at his clothes. He had changed. No trace of a corpse’s blood or the method he used to take care of the body. I was afraid to ask but also afraid not to. “The body?”

“Don’t ask, Lia. It’s done.”

I nodded.

He started to leave, then stopped himself. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” I asked.

“I wish I—” He shook his head. “Just sorry,” he repeated and left down the path. Before I could call after him, I spotted Pauline coming toward the cottage. I ducked back inside, grabbed my bloodied shirt from floor, and looked for a place to hide it. In our small quarters, that could only mean the wardrobe. I flung open the door and stuffed the shirt into the dark corner, pushing some other things in front of it. I’d retrieve it later to be washed. Pauline had enough worries in her life right now without me adding to them. Among the clutter in the bottom, I spotted the basket Walther had given me. I had been so consumed with the news he had brought that day, I had hastily tucked it away and forgotten it. He’d said he put a morsel in the bottom to tide me over, but surely it was spoiled by now. I imagined more of the lovely fig cheese gone to waste and braced myself for the smell as I pushed aside the napkin covering the bottom. It wasn’t fig cheese.

Pages: previous Ctrl next next untranslated