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Advisor's she-wolf Elena Litvinenko

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Title: Advisor's She-Wolf

Elena Litvinenko is a modern Russian writer, known for her literary works written in the fantasy genre. "Lyra" is a sensational series of author's novels, including a book called "The Councilor's Doll", as well as a sequel published in 2016, called "The Councilor's She-Wolf".

In the work “The She-Wolf of the Advisor” we are talking about a fairy-tale country in which the powerful Lord Radu Viore rules. One day he meets a girl on his way who has a fantastic gift for the nameplate. In order not to miss such incredible luck, the ruler takes her to his castle, gives her the name Lyra and assigns teachers and a Mentor to her. However, although the lord takes care of the girl, providing her with everything she needs, he nevertheless has some insidious plans and plans for her.

Over the next ten years of life in the castle, Lyra gradually matures and turns into a real beauty. Now she has to repay the debt to her patron. And this will be very difficult to do, given the exorbitant whims of the lord. To take part in the wars and palace intrigues of Radu Viore, even to become his mistress - isn’t the lord making too many demands on his ward? Will she submit to his will? Or will he rise up, demanding freedom and respect? And what will the ruler himself do in this or that case? However, no matter what happens, the reader is guaranteed intense passions, fantastic incidents and exciting plot twists.

The main character of the book “The Counselor's She-Wolf” is a wonderful girl who has the gift of winning the hearts of people and animals. Elena Litvinenko skillfully builds a storyline around this fact, forcing us to think about the true value of unsolicited gifts and imposed gifts of fate. The theme of forced love runs through the book, inviting the reader to independently resolve this moral issue for himself.

The most incredible adventures await the characters in the book “Advisor's She-Wolf,” framed by love and magic. Wherever the main character goes: in a military camp, in a gypsy camp, and even in a dungeon. The carefully crafted plot of the novel and unique charismatic characters living in an amazing fairy-tale world will not leave anyone indifferent. Elena Litvinenko managed to create a story that strikes readers to the very heart - a real pearl of the fantasy world.

On our website about books lifeinbooks.net you can download for free without registration or read online the book “The Advisor's She-Wolf” by Elena Litvinenko in epub, fb2, txt, rtf, pdf formats for iPad, iPhone, Android and Kindle. The book will give you a lot of pleasant moments and real pleasure from reading. You can buy the full version from our partner. Also, here you will find the latest news from the literary world, learn the biography of your favorite authors. For beginning writers, there is a separate section with useful tips and tricks, interesting articles, thanks to which you yourself can try your hand at literary crafts.

Part 1
Cruel Games

Light is easy to love. Look at my darkness

[modified R.Queen]

1

I ran away from Yarra three days after our first night. And no, not at all because he was rude the first time. On the contrary - gentle. Well, as far as possible with an obsession with flair...

I remember the night was stuffy and droplets of sweat were running down my chest and neck.

I didn’t know how to lace bodices at all then, and all my determination ended around the second row, when the satin ties wrapped around my fingers. I blushed, tugged at them, feeling like a complete fool, and angry tears welled up in my eyes - not only do I have to undress in front of the count, but also...

- I will help.

I didn’t even notice how he approached - barefoot Yarra moved completely silently. The man's hands quickly mastered the lacing and pulled the dress down, caressing the exposed body. The family’s magical tattoo in the form of a grinning wolf on his chest sparkled, painfully tingling his skin, and it so inopportunely came to mind that the palm now lying on my stomach could break a wooden shield. I grabbed the silk of the dress, not allowing it to slip lower.

- Coward...

I stood in the middle of the room, head down and hiding under my hair. Yarra walked around me, stopping behind me. His palms lay on my shoulders, stroked them, ran along my collarbones, gathered my curls into a handful, forcing me to tilt my neck to the side and back. His hot mouth left hot marks on my skin, and when his lips pressed against the beating vein in my neck, I couldn’t stand it, I sobbed, trying to escape.

The Count did not allow it, he covered my mouth with a kiss, muffling my scream, bit it and immediately licked my lip, catching my breath. I remember well my feelings then: the sticky silk of the dress in a handful, the frosty pricks of the tattoo in my palm - I rested against his chest, trying to maintain the distance between our bodies - my feverish trembling and the pressure of his hard lips. Yarra's hands slid down his bare back, squeezed his buttocks, and pressed me against his hips.

- My Lyra...

I closed my eyes so as not to see his gaze, dark with passion, I even turned away, and he spread my arms to the sides, and the dress, which was not being held back by anything, slid down and spread in a scarlet puddle on the floor. All that was left were stockings and shoes with buckles at the ankles - the rosettes of the buckles seemed incredibly stupid to me.

Yarra put me on the bed, tried to involve me in a love game, but I only crumpled the sheets, forcing myself to lie still. At first the count was amused by how I shuddered and twitched from the slightest touch, then he began to irritate me.

- Why are you like a doll...

The heaviness of the male body made it difficult to breathe. Hard, calloused palms squeezed the mounds of her chest, greedy lips took in one pink crown, then another. They sucked, pinched, and pulled until I started moaning. Yarra went lower, kissing her stomach, her thighs, his hot breath scorched her crotch, and the world exploded.

- No need!

I arched, leaning into his shoulders, trying to push him away, to tear him away from me. His tongue was doing something unimaginable, wrong, sinful. I turned into one exposed nerve, squirming under the Count. I never thought that he was capable of this... That I was capable of experiencing such sensations. The languor grew, I, having lost all shame, pressed his head to my hips, moved towards his lips and, it seems, asked him not to stop.

I remember a bright flash of pleasure and a sweet spasm that twisted my body, I remember that my throat was dry - I was breathing quickly and could not get enough of it, I remember the count’s satisfied smile, the strange, slightly salty taste of the kiss, a short pain and an unusual feeling of fullness.

Yarra finally gave himself free rein. He squeezed me in his arms so that I gasped, his hoarse breath escaped through clenched teeth, and his lips latched onto my neck and chest. Finally he groaned and went limp, pinning me to the mattress.

I lay quietly, feeling a man’s breath tickle my cheek. A few minutes later the count turned over on his back, pulling me along with him so that I ended up on his chest. His heart was beating right next to my ear, and his fingers ran through my hair.

It was embarrassing and embarrassing.

I fumbled, trying to crawl to the side, but the hand on my lower back became heavy.

– If you don’t stop fidgeting, we’ll repeat it.

I immediately froze.

The Count laughed quietly. The Ryan Wolf on his chest finally calmed down, hid, turning into an invisible tattoo.

Squeezing my buttocks, Yarra pulled me higher, now I was looking down at him, and I couldn’t figure it out in my head - should I kiss him? By yourself? Count?

Closing my eyes, I brushed my lips against the corner of his mouth and hid under my hair.

- Now say: “I’m glad.”

“Ra...” I repeated and stopped short. She shook her head. Call by name the man whom you have called Mr. all your life? Unthinkable.

Yarra chuckled and sent me against the wall with a slap.

In the morning I was woken up by a quick teasing kiss. Still sleepy, I turned over on my side, stretched, and suddenly I remembered. She opened her eyes, encountering Yarra’s mocking gaze. A slight smile played on the count's face.

“I have to go,” he stroked my cheek. – Not a step out of the chambers, understand? I will leave guards at the door, if you need anything, you can tell them.

I nodded, pulling the blanket over myself.

“See you in the evening,” the count said goodbye and left, whistling.

I pulled my knees up to my stomach, listening to my body, trying to find some... changes, or something. I am a woman! Wow. When I thought about what happened that night, I blushed - will it really always be like this? If so, then... then I probably don't mind.

And I’ve never heard the Count whistle the tune “Sailors”! And in general he was whistling something.

Maybe being his mistress isn't so bad after all? At least he won’t kill me for helping Sorel – and I was determined to save the son of the former First Councilor.

From the living room window one could see the platform with the last of the Doyer family - the rest were slaughtered yesterday by the prince's men. I didn’t feel sorry for the Advisor himself; just for what Tim, my adoptive brother, had to endure through his fault, I was ready to personally strangle Doyer, but Sorel... I became attached to Sorel. Not like Timaru, of course, or Alan, whom I’m unlikely to ever see again, but...

It's all complicated.

How much simpler and clearer everything was when I only had Tim!

Resolutely putting on a robe, I demanded that one of the guards get me food, and I certainly wanted cheese, smoked meat and bread. And more! Yes, these are the young lady's taste preferences.

While waiting for breakfast, I made a mess in the dressing room, looking for thick winter trousers that could be worn as breeches. Having managed to get wet like a mouse and curse everything in the world, I found them at the very bottom of the chest with linen and put them on. On top is a light light yellow dress. I never liked his chicken color, although the maids of honor lied that I looked like a butterfly in it. She twisted the braid into a tight knot, intertwining it with ribbon so that not a single hair came out. In a large travel bag made from the skin of some rare animal - part of Princess Esther's dowry - I put all the money that I had by the grace of the Advisor. Not much, only forty silver coins. After thinking, she hid three rings, several rings and earrings in her inner pocket. I rejected the bad idea of adding the necklace that Yarra had given me yesterday, although even to my inexperienced eye its cost was more than a hundred gold.

A whole tray of food was brought - apparently, the guard did not waste time in carrying out my order. A head of sharp cheese, three rings of sausage and a loaf would be enough for at least three.

- Anything else, madam?

“Yes,” I stared at the soldier, “devices, please.”

He stared at me blankly.

– Cutlery, cutlery. Knives and forks. – I almost laughed, remembering Timar. - Here... the barracks! At least leave the dagger, how will I cut all this wealth? Tailor's scissors?

The red-faced soldier unfastened his dagger and, bowing awkwardly, ran away before the eccentric girl wanted anything else. Fool.

Loudly notifying the guards that I was going to restore beauty, I ordered not to be disturbed. She wrapped the food in a thin cloth, put it in a bag, and added medicine on top. It seems that's it. Clothes, of course, wouldn’t hurt either, but where to get them?

There was a lot of noise in the yard.

I rushed to the window in the living room, trying to see what was happening through the lace curtains. There Yarra is tall, thin, he stands out in the crowd of dressed-up courtiers, like a raven among peacocks. The face is neutral and helpful, but there is a frown between the eyebrows. I knew for sure that he was not a supporter of the entertainment of the prince - a plump man with a thin mustache framing a capriciously curved upper lip.

When I saw mastiffs trained to hunt people, I gulped. Sitting, these dogs were almost as tall as me. I hope they are not related to the Forest Creatures, because otherwise I am lost. With one dagger against the whole pack - an excellent way to commit suicide.

Sorel was freed from the stocks and dragged to the prince. He said something to the young man, patting him on the cheek with his palm. I shuddered when I remembered how those sticky hands touched me while dancing.

I didn't look any further. She threw her bag out the bedroom window overlooking the garden. She jumped off herself, putting out her arms to soften the blow. Having straightened her dress in case she met someone, she walked along the side paths to the levada, where the restless horses had been walking since yesterday. The red stallion, already familiar with the taste of fleur, quickly responded to the call.

I put a bag on him and led him to the river bordering the garden. As far as I remember the surrounding landscape, the only place where you can hide from the hunt is the rocks a few leagues to the south. I bet Sorel will go there.

I was almost late. I remember how my arms suddenly became weak when I saw the dogs surrounding Sorel. She threw the flair, turning trained killers into slobbering puppies.

- Who are you? You're not a princess, right?

- Right. I'm Lyra, you knew me as Laura Oreyo. Do you remember the little girl you looked after at Yarra Castle?

- You?! Was everything else a lie too?!

“Sorry, Sorel,” I turned away. “If you can, forgive me; if not, at least don’t curse.” You have three days to get to Meot. I'll lead the hunt.

Without looking at the guy again, I went down to the river and ran through the shallow water, making sure that the mastiffs left clear, clearly visible tracks. I turned around only once to make a blessing sign after the rider on the red horse.

I led the hunt by the nose until dusk. I have never worked so hard before, using flair to drown out the devotion to the owner drilled into the dogs and the reflexive desire to carry out the commands given by the horn. Already at night, when the pre-storm stuffiness became unbearable, and I was completely exhausted, I left the dogs in a narrow crevice between the rocks, telling them to sit quietly. She smiled gloomily, imagining the prince’s reaction to the disappearance of his beloved pack. No, the dogs, of course, will be found, but not before tomorrow - I started the hunt far into the mountains, where no horse could pass. And on foot, along the rocks, at night, with horses on the lead, in boots with thin soles... Maybe they will get lost? Although I didn’t count on such luck - Yarra’s sense of direction is better than that of a magnetized needle.

The prince's abuse resounded throughout the area for several leagues. What kind of punishments did he promise the hounds if the dogs were not found! During the race along the river, climbing the mountains, I forced the leader to raise his voice every twenty to thirty minutes, and now the dogs had been silent for several hours. Mentally wishing good luck to my pursuers, I walked around them in a wide arc and with a wolf's leap - a hundred steps running, a hundred fast steps, I headed back to the castle.

2

No one noticed my absence - the guards decided that the food brought would be enough for a day, and it turned out to be easy to fool the princely guards. I didn't even expect it. But I was tired as a dog - when I climbed the ledge to my chambers, I almost fell - my arms were cramped, and I couldn’t feel my legs for a long time. And my head wasn’t working well, how else could I explain the rags thrown in the bathroom? Having already dozed off, I jumped up on the bed and, slipping, rushed to the remains of the dress, tore it into shreds and left it to smolder in the fireplace. She wrapped herself in a blanket, like a cocoon, and fell into a dead sleep. I didn’t hear the guards knocking on the door, nor how they, having argued quite a bit, entered the chambers to check why I had been silent for the third day, nor the peals of thunder that made the chandelier sway, nor the noise of the rain, nor even the screams in the courtyard, notifying about the return of the prince.

I woke up because the blanket was ripped off of me, almost throwing me out of bed.

– What are you allowing yourself to do, you rubbish?! - came over my ear.

Gasping in fear, I recoiled from the count hanging over me. In the darkness of the room, illuminated only by flashes of lightning, he looked like a living statue of the Dark One - angular, bony shoulders, clinging to soaking wet clothes, full of rage, eyes burning with icy silver. The tattoo on his chest did not glow - it burned through his shirt.

“I took the prince around the mountains for 24 hours to give you, you idiot, time to get away from the dogs!” What were you thinking, huh?! Ass? Fucking savior! I transferred six amulets to attract thunderstorms!

I huddled in the corner of the bed, looking in horror at the raging count.

- Now they are looking for you, the witch Lyarvina, all over the county! You're lucky that the templars weren't involved, you fool! The prince threatens to boil the one who spoiled his dogs in oil! The dogs almost went crazy when they smelled me! ME!

Yarra grabbed me by the ankle, yanking me to the edge of the mattress. His fingers dug painfully into my shoulders, forcing me to my knees.

“If Loire hadn’t sent them to the magician,” the count growled, “look me in the eye, you whore!” If Loire had not sent the dogs to the magician, they would have destroyed the entire castle, breaking through to you!

The slap in the face sent me face down on the pillows. The Count twisted my arm, forcing me to stand up.

“You fool, you’d be boiled alive right now!”

Yarra pushed me away, and I only now noticed that he was crumpling a piece of yellow silk in his fist. The count spat, walked to the fireplace, stirred the coals and cursed dirtyly, throwing an incendiary amulet into the stone mouth.

“You weren’t even smart enough to burn your dress!”

It flared as if oil had been splashed into the fireplace. A bright flame roared, consuming firewood and the remains of rags. For some time the only sound in the room was the sound of the rain. I sat wrapped in a blanket and dreamed that the prince would summon the count.

Yarra dusted off his hands and turned, squinting angrily.

“I know what you’re thinking right now,” he drawled, taking his wet shirt over his head. His face was twisted into a contemptuous grin, the irises of his eyes completely lost color from barely restrained rage. - That I would not allow the prince to touch you. That he would cut the dogs, but would not allow them to give you away.

The Count stopped by the bed, looking intently at me. I crawled to the opposite edge of it, realizing with horror what his carnivorous gaze meant. I was wearing nothing but a shirt and a pair of wool socks, which I pulled on before falling asleep.

– I guessed right, Lyra?

I shook my head.

- Little liar...

Yarra slowly but surely cornered me as he approached. Soon there was only a wall behind me.

I curled up into a ball, hiding under my hair. The Count sank down next to him, with a lazy movement removed his curls from his face and slowly wrapped them around his fist.

- You're right! – he exhaled. “I would strangle the dogs with my bare hands, and Loire with them.” But if you think that you can get away with this trick, then you are very mistaken!..

The rain did not stop for the fourth day. In the former county of Doyer, now part of the crown lands, there began a flood such as the country had not seen for several hundred years. Moiri, Kaya and Jenna overflowed their banks, washed away roads, and flooded villages and towns. Rye and oats rotted under a cubit-high layer of water, the rain knocked the color off the trees, and in one of the towns, an epidemic began due to sewage that got into the wells.

The reward for the witch who damaged the prince's dogs and caused a flood with witchcraft increased to fifty gold, and in many places fires were already smoking with might and main. Those suspected of witchcraft were burned in their own homes, in chapels, and in relatively dry barns. Some were drowned. Several more people were stoned to death. I myself saw mad crowds armed with clubs, pitchforks and smoking torches.

I ran away from the castle as soon as Yarra left his chambers.

I pretended to be asleep while he got dressed and had breakfast, snoring diligently, afraid to move when he stopped next to the bed. There was a rustle of fabric, and something heavy landed on the pillow next to my head. It slid down and stopped, resting against the blanket.

The front door slammed, and only then did I allow myself to open my eyes slightly, looking at a wide white gold bracelet with prickly rubies - siblings of those in the necklace.

Does Galia really tolerate his bestial behavior in exchange for jewelry?!

Through the noise of the rain came shouts, the clatter of hooves on the stones of the courtyard, the echoing ringing of the rising bars of the gate - Yarra left to create the appearance of searching for the witch. Methodically, like two days ago, I began to fill my bag, collecting food and a change of clothes. She went to the window in the bedroom and cursed - there were guards walking downstairs. The same picture awaited me in the living room, and even under the narrow bathroom window. Lyarvin dol!

I got out of the chambers through the chimney. I suffered through fear - I can’t describe it, I kept thinking that I would get stuck, and someone would light logs under me. I consoled myself with the fact that Doyer’s chimney sweep was no thinner than me, and, collecting soot on his head, I stubbornly climbed up, pulling the bag that was clinging to the walls behind me.

Sneezing as if I had snorted pepper, I rolled into the rooms where my ladies-in-waiting used to live. Silk stockings, garters, shoes were scattered everywhere, there were bells of starched petticoats, on the table were forgotten books of poetry and romances, embroidery stretched out on a hoop. It seemed as if the girls had come out just a few minutes ago and were about to burst in in a noisy, laughing crowd.

There was a wallet in one of the chairs. I pulled my hand back several times before taking the money from him - copper and a couple of silver pieces. Surely, if I had rummaged through my things, I would have found more, but it became disgusting. It's like I'm robbing the dead. It’s probably stupid - I need money much more now, but I couldn’t overcome myself.

There was no one in the corridor. In quick dashes, I crossed the deserted castle diagonally and locked myself in someone’s, this time a man’s, room. There was no one below, under the windows. Glory to the Light Ones, the count did not think of cordoning off the entire castle.

I was not at all ashamed to take clothes and weapons - in these chambers I got hold of two shirts, breeches, socks, a cloak, a flint, a belt of knives and - who would have thought - shurikens. The previous owner thought of sewing them onto his belt as decoration.

The clothes were too big, but the devil was with them - I rolled up the sleeves of my shirts and cut off my breeches. True, I had to dig a new hole in the belt, but these are minor things. I went down the drainpipe. Unnoticed by anyone, she crept across the yard, climbed the wall and jumped down, tumbling down the slope. It’s good that Doyer wasn’t as paranoid as Yarra—at home, such acrobatics would have led me to wolf pits. Soaked through and dirty, I, chattering my teeth, threw on my raincoat, threw my bag over my shoulder and, covered in a thick gray veil of downpour, ran towards the nearest city.

I remember that in every shadow, in every whimsically curved tree, in every rustle I imagined Yarra.

I didn’t have the slightest idea what I would do once freed from the Count, but I had a whole speech prepared in case he found me. I slipped on pine needles, making my way through the forest, and rehearsed: “Excuse me, Your Excellency... I don’t know what came over me!” No not like this. It’s better to immediately fall to your knees: “Sorry, sir!”

During the week of travel, I worked myself up so much that I expected Yarra to appear any minute, and every time I was terribly surprised that he was not behind a noticeable ridge of hills, or in a dense rowan grove, or by the river, where I had made a long halt. For some reason, I was sure that he himself was looking for me, and I was completely unprepared for the mercenaries to find me.

3

This happened two weeks later, when I had already settled down in the city, diligently posing as a bourgeois in the service of a courtesan widely known in narrow circles. I still don’t understand how, how I could trust this sleek bitch with the black eyes of a purebred Ryan, who met me on the street, and suddenly - out of the blue! - who offered the job. I remember that I was captivated by her deliberate sincerity - she, without any embarrassment, said that she runs a private brothel, and I am ideally suited for the role of one of her “cousins.”

“Wait,” she raised her hand before I could object, “don’t refuse right away.” I see you are looking for a job, although you don’t look like a maid at all. You will live with me, look around, help the cook and run errands for your cousins. If you like it, you will become one of them, if not, you will become a maid. But I will pay less,” Lady Loire warned.

It was her last words that convinced me, they sounded so businesslike, almost like Tim’s.

“Think and agree,” Lady Loir smiled. – My villa is called “House of the Rose”, I will be waiting for you.

I thought for a while. The money was running out and I had been sleeping in attics for the last two nights. There was no work - I was afraid to go to doctors, pharmacists and alchemists, although I would have had more than enough knowledge - after all, where else would Yarra look for me? For the same reason, I didn’t go to seamstresses and haberdashers - the first places where young ladies turn in search of income. By the time I met Lady Loir, I was faced with a dilemma - to steal or work as a server in a tavern. Both of them were equally disgusting.

Naturally, I agreed, that same evening I knocked on the openwork gate with forged cast-iron roses.

I didn’t suspect that Lady Loir at first glance identified me as a runaway - a shabby and wrinkled, but expensive dress, neat hands, healthy hair, a clean face and a confused look. It was she who, having found out WHO was looking for a tall blue-eyed blonde of sixteen years old, sold me to the mercenaries of the Earl of Yarra.

The door swung open, and goosebumps ran down my arms—not from the cold, but from foreboding. The eight men who entered the room looked nothing like the nobles who visited the House of the Rose, and the silver fork, which I had already polished and put aside, jumped into my hand by itself.

“She,” one of the men nodded briefly, and the wallet fell into the lap of Lady Loir, sitting in a chair.

In my opinion, Yarra did not bother to explain to his hirelings who I was, or maybe they didn’t believe me. I can’t explain their carelessness in any other way, and the satisfaction in the leader’s eyes quickly gave way to fury of pain - he grabbed me by the shoulder, and without hesitation, I stuck a fork in his hand.

It should have been in the eye.

Rolling over the table, I grabbed a dagger from the belt of a screaming man and slashed the mercenary on the thigh, drove the blade into the side of the one standing on the left, breaking through to the window, managed to break the Adam’s apple of the third, and then a fireball exploded in my head. The last thing I heard before I lost consciousness was Lady Loire's voice:

- I broke such a vase...

I woke up hanging upside down - they were carrying me, throwing me over the saddle. There was a noise in my ears, the wound behind my ear was bleeding; dark, almost black drops flowed onto her cheek and fell down, drying on her disheveled braids.

The main one among the mercenaries, the one whose leg I cut open and his hand was pierced, was called Arz - he still did not shut up, showering me with abuse and examining my hastily bandaged palm.

- B-bitch! Right hand!..

His friends kept quiet and looked warily at me.

Then there was a short stop at the Town Hall - Arz sent the good news to the count.

“His Excellency will be there by night,” he said contentedly when he returned. “I ordered the girl to be brought to the Bronze Shield.”

“It’s expensive there,” someone sighed.

“So we don’t have to sit there,” Arz reasoned. - For now, you can make a simple living at a tavern.

“Or not a tavern,” suggested the mercenary, who was following the leader like a shadow.

“Or not a tavern,” Arz agreed. - The main thing is that the whores are clean and there is a doctor - to examine the hand.

The horses started to trot, and I shook mercilessly. Every horse step felt a dull pain in the back of the head, and the voices around merged into an indistinct rumble, similar to the sound of the surf. Several times the mercenaries were stopped by the city guards, but upon hearing the magical “Earl of Yarra”, they invariably let them go.

The quarters of Sighs here were exactly the same as in Eilre - at first there were rich brothels, down the street - cheaper, on the outskirts - absolute shitholes. And the smell is the same - heavy, cloying, powdery, as if perfume had been poured over a stinking wound.

Fortunately, they didn’t drag me inside, deciding to leave me in the stables. Then they argued for a long time about who would guard. Jon, Arz’s nephew, was unlucky. Not daring to disobey his uncle, this bastard took it out on me - first throwing me onto the plank floor, only lightly sprinkled with straw, and then tying my already numb hands with a rope so that I screamed in pain.

- Shut up! – he barked, slapping me in the face. He walked back and forth and sat down against the wall opposite, playing with a knife.

I stirred around, making myself at least somewhat more comfortable and vividly imagining the future conversation with Yarra. Why was I going to lie to him? “Sorry, it’s cloudy”?

But it seems that the security boy has become clouded.

“You’re fine, pretty,” Jon declared, moving closer and placing his hand on my ankle.

“Take your hands off,” I advised through gritted teeth.

“Oh, how formidable we are,” the boy said mockingly, checking the knots on my legs. The dirty hand slid higher and smeared his knee.

“The Count will skin you.”

- For you, or what?..

I clenched my legs and jerked, moving away. The unfortunate guard grinned and reached for me. This was an opportunity I couldn't miss. She turned away slightly and with a sharp short movement slammed her head into his nose, and then, springing her legs, kicked him in the ribs. The boy flew away, hit the stall door and slid to the floor.

When Arz entered the stable, I almost sawed through the ropes on my legs. He and the other mercenaries only had one look at Yon, lying in an unnatural position, at me with a knife clumsily clutched between his bound hands.

The first blow hit me in the stomach, and the world turned upside down. I had never been in such pain - circles swam before my eyes, my mouth was filled with caustic bile. I bent my knees, trying to somehow close myself, and I vomited right on my skirt. And the blows rained down one after another - on the back, on the legs...

I woke up from a bucket of water being poured on me. She choked, coughed, spitting and trying to focus her eyes. Everything swam before my eyes, my head was pounding, my body was shaking with violent tremors.

– Have you come to your senses? Get up!

I was dragged across the city on a rope.

I also remember that the weather was bad. That crazy downpour has long passed, but with silt, released by Yarra from amulets, did not dissipate, pouring out short, unsummer-like cold rains every day. The wind threw handfuls of moisture into my face, ruffled my hair, my feet slipped on the wet cobblestones, and all I thought about was not to fall, otherwise I wouldn’t get up.

I was so cold that I didn’t immediately understand why they untied me from the horse and where they were dragging me, holding me tightly by the arms. I didn’t even feel the pain from the push that threw me to the floor. The main thing was warmth, blessed warmth and durable pine floorboards, faintly smelling of resin.

“Did you really think that I wouldn’t find you, Lyra?” - came over my ear. Steel fingers dug into his shoulder and pulled him to his feet. – Or do you think that I have nothing else to do except search for you?!

The slap was deafening and filled my mouth with blood. I recoiled and ran into the table, looking in horror at Yarra, who was pulling the belt out of his trousers.

- No need!

Squealing, I rushed to the corner, hiding behind a chair.

- Excuse me!

- Forgive me?! – Yarra raged. - Forgive me?! Two weeks!.. In a brothel!.. With Loir, that pimp!.. What were you doing there, huh?! Answer me, bitch!..

The Count grabbed me by the collar and shook me so hard that I almost hit my head against the wall. The wet fabric gave way, crawled, and the hand raised for another slap stopped.

- Where did the bruises come from?

“Mercenaries...” I squeezed out, choking on tears.

Yarra tore off my jacket, exposing me to the waist, and cursed loudly at the sight of my stomach and back.

-What did they do to you? Don't be silent, speak up!

The silence that followed—only the wind whistled through the chimney—could have been cut with a knife.

Exhaling, Yarra dropped to one knee, felt my ribs, and carefully ran his fingers over the deep purple-black bruises.

– Did you spit blood?

I vaguely remember what happened next - my head was too dizzy, my body hurt too much.

Yarra - he carries me up the stairs, and the innkeeper's wife, constantly looking around, lights his way with a three-horned candlestick.

Sibill - examines, feels.

– A slight concussion, two cracks in the ribs, a bruised spleen. He will live,” and the magician’s face shows that he is clearly dissatisfied with this circumstance. – Count her?

- No. Treat. Later do you think Loyr.

The door slams - Yarra and the magician leave.

Hot water and two pairs of women's hands, quiet voices.

- Poor thing... Why is she doing this?

- It seems like she ran away...

- It’s not a sin to run away from such a husband...

- Guardian...

The innkeeper was the last to be interrogated.

- Reiko, sir.

- Age?

- Forty-two years.

- Half-breed?

“I have one-fifth Ryan blood, sir.”

The interrogator nodded. He himself, a purebred Ryan, looked younger at sixty-four than Reiko did at forty.

- What you see?

The innkeeper blinked and lowered his eyes.

- Nothing, sir, I swear by the Light Ones!

“And yet,” the interrogator shook one of the finely written sheets, “you were found in the attic, hidden in a chest.” What were you looking for there, Reiko? Grandma's inheritance? Or you knew, that the undead are coming to you to feed? – A roar broke through the deliberately soft voice, and the Junior Lord’s tattoo on his wrist spat out evil sparks. Dragged out of bed, Ryan had spent the fifth hour interrogating the few witnesses to the massacre that took place in the tavern on the outskirts, but all he could get was mumbled words about chills, extinguished torches and shadows rushing past. And then they found the corpses.

As we found out, a separate room was occupied that evening by six mercenaries celebrating a successful hunt. They celebrated noisily, drank a lot, raising their mugs to the Earl of Yarra, squeezed the servers - and suddenly there was silence. And not only with them, but throughout the entire tavern, but none of those present could say why they fell silent. There was simply no time for laughter, no time for salty jokes, no time for bickering, not even time for drinking. The door slammed, the flames of the torches danced, and several candles went out. A smeared shadow flashed, “by God, as if I saw it through a dirty window,” and six corpses remained in a separate room. A deathly frightened maid, huddled in a corner, babbled about a white-eyed demon who, with his bare hands, tore the throat of “this one with a bandaged hand” and blew off the heads of the others. How? With claws. The girl did not see how he appeared and where he disappeared.

She was a doll, but became a wolf. It happens. Life hardens. And over time, a strong and mighty warrior grows out of a weak and weak-willed man. Or a warrior...

We present to your attention the second book “The Counselor's She-Wolf” from the series about Lyra. Author Elena Litvinenko decided not to stop at one novel about Lyra’s adventures and wrote a sequel. She did the right thing - readers received the book with a bang!

The mysterious and cruel Middle Ages are a fashionable setting for fantasy nowadays. Moreover, in the minds of ordinary people, the Middle Ages are directly connected with magic. Let's remember the legends about King Arthur, Merlin, dragons, etc. Therefore, it is very easy for the reader to believe in the magical component of that time. Accordingly, the novel “The Counselor's She-Wolf” is perceived as real, despite the fact that it is written in the fantasy genre.

About the essence. Many years ago, Lord Radu Viore settled a little girl with an amazing gift in his castle. He provided her with everything she needed, gave her a name and teachers. Lyra has grown up. She became beautiful and smart. And the time has come to repay the debt to the lord. And he, by human standards, was a real brute. Not only did he force the girl to take part in all the intrigues and internecine wars, but he also dishonored her. Lyra became a toy in the hands of a scoundrel, a doll. But over time, the girl realizes her worth. Wants to break free. Anger and hatred for her tormentor torment her. Will fate be favorable to the main character? You will find out when you start reading the novel “The Counselor's She-Wolf.”

An explosive mixture of intrigue, adventure and emotion goes well with the decent literary language of Elena Litvinenko. The author characterizes the fictional world with its characters in detail.

In her novel, Elena Litvinenko glorifies the main character’s great desire for life and condemns the inhuman component of medieval wars. However, the cruel era is not without romance and idealization.

If you like to read about battles, castle sieges, long campaigns and various treacheries and treacheries, “The Advisor's She-Wolf” will satisfy all your needs. For gentle ladies - a pleasant surprise in the form of romantic relationships and sex scenes.

Let us note that this book is an excellent example of how good domestic fantasy can be. The ending is unfinished and hints at the continuation of the story of Lear. Which is very good. Since not all enemies have been defeated and not all villains have received what they deserve.

On our literary website you can download the book “The Counselor's She-Wolf” by Elena Litvinenko for free in formats suitable for different devices - epub, fb2, txt, rtf. Do you like to read books and always keep up with new releases? We have a large selection of books of various genres: classics, modern fiction, psychological literature and children's publications. In addition, we offer interesting and educational articles for aspiring writers and all those who want to learn how to write beautifully. Each of our visitors will be able to find something useful and exciting for themselves.

Elena Litvinenko is a writer from Russia, who became famous for her works of fantasy. Particularly popular is the series of novels “Lyra”, consisting of two books: and “The Counselor’s She-Wolf”.

The book “The Counselor's She-Wolf” tells the story of a fairy-tale land where Lord Radu Viore occupies the post of ruler. His life changes when fate brings him into contact with a girl who has an incredible gift for the nameplate. Afraid of missing out on such fantastic luck, the lord takes her to his castle. The girl receives the name Lyra. Now teachers and a mentor always work with her. She is provided with everything she might need. Despite Radu Viore's care for the baby, he pursues insidious goals that can only be achieved with the help of her gift.

About the book

Lyra has been living in the castle for ten years. She gets older and turns into a girl of unearthly beauty. Now she is faced with the task of thanking her patron for many years of care. But it is very difficult to fulfill this, since the lord has huge demands. He wants the girl to take part in the battles and intrigues taking place in the palace. In addition, the lord offers to become his mistress. These desires seem too big to fulfill. Will Lyra agree to do what is required? Or will he defend his position? How will the ruler react to the girl’s decision? No matter how the plot line turns, the reader can expect many incredible events that will take place in the lives of the heroes.

The peculiarity of the main character’s gift is that she can gain favor with people and animals without making much effort. The writer masterfully builds a plot line based on this fact. Thus giving the reader the opportunity to reflect on the real wealth of unsolicited gifts and gifts that were imposed by fate. The emphasis is on the theme of forced love, when a person does not want to be with someone. The reader is invited to decide for himself how he relates to such a situation.

Fantastic adventures await the book's heroes, accompanied by love and magic. The girl will have to visit a variety of places: in a gypsy camp, in a military camp, in a dungeon. The plot of the work, worked out to the smallest detail and the vivid images of the characters who live in a mysterious fairy-tale world, will captivate anyone. Elena Litvinenko was able to create a story that penetrated the hearts of readers and left its mark.

Elena Litvinenko

WOLF ADVISOR

CRUEL GAMES

Light is easy to love, look at my darkness

(modified by R. Queen)

I ran away from Yarra three days after our first night. And no, not at all because he was rude the first time. On the contrary - gentle. Well, as far as possible with an obsession with flair...

I remember the night was stuffy and droplets of sweat were running down my chest and neck.

I will help.

Coward...

My Lyra...

Why are you like a doll...

No need!