Rhianon-3. Palace in Heaven - Natalie Yacobson

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his gloomy thoughts by the call of birds under the arched window. They were saying something. Douglas listened. He had long ago learned to understand the language of birds, and these birds were talking as if they were doing it for him, savoring every word leisurely. Nice little birds. A novice magician would have understood them at once. They were talking about the girl with the golden hair and the embroidered purple tent. If that girl were not there now, they would not have been able to fly so close and get a good look at the handsome lord.

      “What do you mean?” Douglas asked in the same way. The men in the castle would have thought he was mocking them, mimicking a bird’s croak, but the larks on the windowsills flinched, sensing the intrusion of an outsider. His accent was flawless, of course, but his angular, tall figure confused them. Just a moment and the skylarks flew noisily down, leaving Douglas with nothing. He stood at the window for a minute, bewailing himself for his cowardice. Of course, he could have talked to the feathered creatures, but what if he had been spotted by the servants in the castle. Such an interesting occupation for the young lord would have caused a lot of gossip. He had lived at court enough to know that both servants and gentlemen here are great gossipers. And he’s good, too. He’s got someone to ask him questions. They were silly birds. And yet he learned more from them than he could have hoped for.

      Rhianon woke up with a feeling of vague panic. Someone’s claws were scraping across the carpet, but not the claws of the little creatures she was already used to. These were more like knives. Rhianon crouched in bed and looked around. She could see little in the darkness, but she could hear panting. Someone was climbing the fleece as hard as if they were climbing a wall, or worse, walking on hot bricks. Sniffling was mingled with whimpering as if in pain, and there was a low cry of anguish.

      “It was his fault! It was his fault!”

      Rhianon shuddered when her claws made contact with the soft hide of the girl’s bed. Something black, rough, like a large blob of darkness was already there. Evil yellow eyes flashed at her from the absolute darkness. The smell of burning flesh and fire reeked in her face. A clawed hand reached for her throat. She looked up and saw that her skin was burned black, the remains of flesh already slimy. Was it flesh? Do angels have flesh? Fallen ones probably do. Rhiannon remembered Madael’s story and tried to move as far away from the burnt object as possible, but there was only the tent wall and the golden pillars behind her.

      “Do you know how much suffering you’ve caused us all, little angel?”

      The claws were already pressing on her throat when a light suddenly cut through the darkness of the tent. She couldn’t see the scarlet curtain covering the tent open, but the candle before the door flickered on and off, revealing that her master was already here. Rhianon searched in vain for him in the darkness. In her mind she begged for help, and he must have heard. A strong arm, framed in gold bracelets, pulled the dreaded guest from her bed in a flash. There was no sound of struggle. The thing only resisted for a moment when it had already been slammed to the floor. Then there was silence.

      Rhianon had to squeeze her eyes shut when the candles in the candelabra in front of her finally flashed. She squinted through her eyes as the lights flickered and she could see what looked like a gigantic, slimy, black puddle of rotting filth, beating in agony on the floor.

      “It can’t stand the light. Doesn’t it?” Madael grinned cruelly, watching its torment. “Even the tiniest light at the tip of a splinter of vinegar could cause it tremendous agony. Do you know why?”

      “I don’t want to know why?” Rhianon crawled away from the wall and clung to the rim of the bear’s skin. Her warmth was a little comforting.

      “You want to hold a lighted candle to him and see how his pain multiplies. It will be interesting.”

      He suggested it quite seriously. What was beating and wriggling at his feet was alive. She could see the frightened yellow eyes gleaming against the black shapeless blob, and the terror lingering in them. And what anger.

      Madael watched the black creature’s torment with a strange satisfaction. The way boys torture a frog or a toad or a mollusk they find for fun. Rhianon had seen as a child how servants’ children picked up oysters tossed by a storm, only to mock the oysters and bring fire to them and then laugh. It was disgusting. Any violence always leads to more. But there was something different here. She felt vindictive. Madael wasn’t just mocking, he was satisfied with something.

      “Stop it!” she couldn’t stand to see something so disgusting that it seemed to be spreading like poison on the carpet, and it was agonizing. She felt sick to her stomach.

      “As you wish, Princess,” Madael said no more, but stared at her with long, tense eyes. And really, why on earth would he take her orders or requests. He is the victor here, not she. And yet after a moment there was not even a trace of the agonizing monster left on the carpet.

      How strange. No ashes, no slime, no scratches from its claws. Rhianon was sure there must be something left.

      Madael was already sitting next to her on the bed, as if nothing had happened. His gaze was calm. Beautiful thin fingers groped her skin, checking for wounds. She was used to the intricate gold patterns like tattoos clinging to the skin on his wrists, to the inky gold bracelets wrapped around his arms up to his elbows and even his forearms. It was as if he was shackled by ornate gold plates that had been exquisitely hewn from the sunlight-an exquisite chain or a reminder that he wasn’t completely free. Or maybe it was just a hint that he is part of the sun and the golden patterns on top of his shimmering body are just a reminder that despite the appearance of humanity he can burn on contact even stronger than the sunbeam. And yet the touch of his hands was soothing.

      Rhianon could hardly turn away from his face to look again at the spot on the carpet where the creepy guest had recently wriggled. It was empty now.

      “He was one of my cohorts,” Madael said thoughtfully. “Yes, no, more than that, my right hand. He never understood why we didn’t win, and he’s still searching for the reasons why. He’s also angry with me.”

      He didn’t have to explain anything, but as always he did. Rhianon remembered her first encounter with the magic world, all the creatures she’d never believed before, the hideous dwarves and goblins and beautiful fairies, each one hiding some tiny ugliness, all telling her the same thing.

      “They’re all mad at you for being beautiful, and they’re not,” Rhianon touched the disheveled wheat curls gently, checking to see if they burned her, then pulled his head toward her, and he didn’t resist, seemed glad, in fact, and she liked to study what for all the magical world was a rarity – his beautiful face, his head, his shoulders, the intricate plates of bracelets on his wrists, they were afraid of him because he burned them, but he let her be so close to him.

      “I was prettier once,” he admitted through sheer force.

      “That was hard to believe.”

      “When the battle first started they listened to me because I was part of the sun, it burns your eyes and you can’t disobey it when you stand next to it, but then… now they hate me.”

      “So what is it?” Rhianon tried to forget the way the fairies’ hands caressed her there in the forbidden palace, the way their wings gently wrapped around her waist. They were not as good as the one who had doomed them to exist and mischief in the world of mortals. Once here, they had only the entertainment of plotting against humans. At least they have some kind of freedom. Let them live as they please. Why regret them or try to please them again.

      “I love you alone. Isn’t that enough?”

      He looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. He looked at her as if he had never seen her before, and yet he knew that no one had ever told him or wanted to hear her say it. He was used to the fact that he had to be alone. Perhaps God condemns to loneliness all those who were too close to him, because since he himself cannot get what he wants, no one else should either. But now it turned out differently than he had decreed.

      “You

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