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Rhianon-9. The Birth of the Dragon. Natalie Yacobson
Читать онлайн.Название Rhianon-9. The Birth of the Dragon
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9785005913302
Автор произведения Natalie Yacobson
Издательство Издательские решения
«But it might reappear when you’re in danger again,» hissed a voice from the enamel snuffbox.
«I know,» Rhianon didn’t even look at the leprechaun. She had grown accustomed to his almost invisible presence. «Pick up that hairpin. It fell to the carpet.»
«Is it a sprig of grapes?»
«Yes.»
«What if she’s already turned into a toad?»
«Don’t mess with me. Be quickly!» Rhianon commanded, and the leprechaun reluctantly began to climb out of his hiding place. He clicked first on the cleverly positioned latch in the secret compartment, then lifted the little cornelian-encrusted lid and out came the fancifully dressed creature. He hurried past the incense bottles and down the satin ribbon.
«Here it is,» the cunning man still found what he needed on the floor when he was forced to.
As he climbed back up onto the table, Rhianon put her palm up to him and felt the chill of the dark agate in her fingers. The stones took the shape of grape pips, and at the tip of the clasp it looked as if poison had accumulated.
«I’ll have to find out what it is.»
«You still don’t believe in unselfish gifts.»
«No,» Rhianon touched the necklace around her neck. It had already become the same, but, as it turned out, even Madael never gave gifts for nothing. Perhaps one day that thing would strangle her. So shouldn’t she take it off? And lose her protection? But that protection is given to her by the Devil, and he can also kill her. Who is to be trusted when no one is trustworthy? Rhianon decided to choose the lesser of two evils and left the necklace around her neck. At least it protects her from all those people who dwell in the castle, and they are even more insidious than the devil.
«I’ll throw it into the castle moat,» she decided about the hairpin. For some reason she didn’t want to keep it. The grapevine sprig felt like it was pulsing with poison and burning. It was as if she were clutching a spark from a volcano in her fingers.
«Aren’t you afraid of poisoning the local vipers?» Orpheus joked, looking out from behind the curtains. Though who knows, maybe it wasn’t a joke at all.
Rhianon searched for a shawl or a muffler to cover her exposed shoulders, but found neither and decided to go out into the tower that way. The cold wind blew against her skin, and there was fire beneath her skin itself. She was not cold at all, and yet she felt a storm approaching. The night seemed almost icy.
For some reason there were no sentries on the roof of the castle. Rhianon didn’t worry about it. She wanted to be alone now. She unclenched her fingers and watched with satisfaction as the heavy object tumbled down. Her eyesight was sharp enough to see the dark waters closing over the glittering jewel from above. It flashed a ruby sparkle for a moment and then faded into the darkness forever.
And that was it! Rhianon turned to leave, and she gasped. He stood there, alive and beautiful, but so ancient that not even the stones of the castle could compete with him. The world was younger than he was, but he alone would remain forever young. He alone is unchanged, unlike his entire mutated army, but his wings had begun to darken beneath his cloak. His golden chain mail gleamed on his chest. Its links covered his skin like a dragon’s armor. But why, he was invulnerable as it was. He still wore the same wreath of unfading roses over his brown locks. It seemed to have replaced his crown now.
«Are you looking for me?» His voice became more deep and penetrating, more threatening at the same time. For a moment Rhianon even felt fear. Madael had changed, she could see it, and at the same time she couldn’t tell what exactly the change consisted of. It was as if the beautiful, innocent image had been impregnated with vice, and yet it had lost none of its pristine purity.
«What do you make to think it was you?»
«Why else would you look up at the starry sky?» He leaned forward, and Rhianon recoiled in horror. Despite all his beauty, he suddenly frightened her. She would have kept on retreating, had she not stumbled upon the parapet. She could have gone no farther; there was only the moat below, if she was lucky, and the sharp rocks if she had fallen a little to her left. Fall into the water after Hildegard’s ornament, and the underwater creatures might still pull her out, much worse would be crashing. It is a pity she still has no wings. And he had promised. She looked at Madael with challenge. Now she knew who killed all the sentries in the towers. And why was it? What did he want from her today? Did he want to fight? She had no sword with her.
She recoiled from the hand that reached out to stroke her cheek.
«Do I disgust you?» He spoke calmly, thoughtfully, unable to tell if there was a firestorm raging inside him, or if all the old wounds had been healed by the ice.
She turned her attention to the spikes almost wounding his forehead. He was in no pain, and the flowers on top of the thorny crown were so beautiful. They set off his beauty perfectly. Rhianon involuntarily reached for them with her hand. She clearly imagined the picture – Madael, about to go into battle, wearing a wreath of roses over his golden curls instead of his helmet. He has a helmet with which he is obliged to cover his inhuman appearance in battle, as well as his wings. For his help he would be offered the crown of any country. Humans can only dream of such a thing, but to him worldly values mean nothing. He would give it all up for Rhianon. He must be to her what he once delighted her to be, so he would go into battle with his head uncovered, with a wreath of roses in his golden curls. No mortal would dare do such a thing, for he too could so easily be blown off his head in battle if he crossed reasonable boundaries, but he didn’t care anymore, for her sake he must be bold and reckless. Is it possible to think that roses are protective? Perhaps it was only a legend, but now he himself was the legend of eternity.
He followed the movement of her hand and did not recoil when the flaming fingers touched him. She could smell the faint scent of roses, and heard his voice as if it had come from afar.
«They were said to ward off more wounds than any shield, and he who wears them is invulnerable, but I have been invulnerable since before the rose with thorns appeared.»
«How do you believe yourself?» She ventured to ask.
«I have always believed that the rose is the girl you love. It is one look at her before you even touch her, and you are too hurt.»
«My name is not rose.»
«But you hurt me before I even knew your name, before you even noticed me.»
His voice was calm, but it conveyed a brutal truth. Rhianon didn’t even have time to sob when strong arms tightened around her waist. It was frightening to even imagine how powerful they were. He could have crushed her with a single thrust, crushing her flesh like chunks of marble statue. Instead, he jerked her off the ground and set her on the parapet.
The height! Rhianon nearly suffocated. The teeth of the parapet beneath her feet were wet with rain and slippery. If Madael hadn’t continued to hold her, she would have fallen, but he didn’t loosen his embrace. His palms slid smoothly around her waist.
The long-standing fear of heights came back to life, but it was different. Maybe it was because someone else’s wings were fluttering behind her back. They were Madael’s wings. It was as if they were her own. His wings were for the two of them. As long as he was with her, she would not fall.
The heights were so dizzying. Someone else’s voices might have beckoned her from heaven and from the abyss, but she was with Madael. What would happen if he left her?
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