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look like Cupid aiming for my heart,» he remarked.

      «I am not Cupid!»

      «You’re right, you’re a dragon-hunter,» he said, his voice mirroring another sneer.

      «Do you doubt me?»

      «I am not!» He lifted her chin with his fingers and placed a long kiss on her lips.

      She should have been outraged, she supposed, but Graymore was ecstatic. The kiss was as sweet as it had been in her dream. This stranger was as if he had come out of her dream. Only he wasn’t fiery, yet his proximity made everything erupt inside.

      Graymore slid her fingers down his back. His back turned out to be too oblong. The handsome stranger’s body curved like a crooked mirror.

      Graymore could hardly pull herself away from his lips. It’s not customary to kiss strangers, but don’t you tell your heart to. It is stronger than reason.

      «Where are you from? Did you come from the lake?»

      «I am down from the mountains,» he answered nonchalantly.

      «Are you from the mountains? Only gryphons and dragons live in the mountains!» Graymore opened her eyes wide with amazement.

      «Elves live in the mountains.»

      Graymore knew what elves names sounded like.

      «What is your name?» She asked. «My name is Graymore.»

      «I know it.»

      The stranger dumbfounded her with the answer.

      «How do you know?»

      Had the fame of her dragon exploits gone so far that even the mountain elves had heard of her?

      Instead of answering, the stranger gently touched her locks and wound a long lock of her hair about his finger. Graymore noticed that he had scales growing on his finger. The lake reflected his back, unnaturally elongated and also overgrown with scales. And beneath his back, a green tail wriggled in rings. Graymore shuddered and backed away. The tail of a lizard! He must be a wizard. He was too beautiful for a normal human. Maybe he’s naked. There’s a kingdom of naga around here somewhere, beyond the mountains where the rain forests called jungles stretched out. He probably crawled in from there and immediately seduced a wandering princess.

      «Don’t come any closer, or I’ll shoot!» Graymore took aim at him with her crossbow.

      «You are so beautiful and so prickly!» The stranger looked at her with mild regret, and then suddenly handed her a scarlet rose. Where did he even get a rose in the hot forests, where roses did not grow? You look like this prickly flower. You look like a rose, but your character has thorns too.»

      «And you have a serpent’s tail!»

      He tossed the rose at Graymore’s feet and then suddenly disappeared, as if he had vanished into thin air. The stinging sensation in her chest was gone. The dragon must have flown over the mountains before it could pass.

      Graymore bent down and picked up the rose. Was there poison on its thorns? The skeleton had warned her that some clever wizards could smear even rose thorns with poison.

      It was a pity that the young man had disappeared so quickly. Though he turned out to be half lizard, Grayamore wanted to see him again. Why is it that the most beautiful young men turn out to be magical creatures!

      Dancing in the Mountains

      Graymore’s heart ached. Who to marry, if all suitable guys were either elves or naga? It couldn’t be that the future queen of Livellin would marry a naga! And why was she suddenly thinking about marriage? She didn’t seem to have any intention of getting married at all. To be the sole ruler of a country is far more pleasant than having to reckon with her husband in everything. Graymore liked being free.

      Why was she so drawn to this naga? He might have the face of an angel, but he had the body of a snake! You don’t go to the ball with a lizard! She would have been better off falling in love with an elf.

      Thoughts of mountain elves kept creeping into her head. Graymore tried to go around the mountains, but they wouldn’t end. She seemed to be riding around them in circles. She felt as if the mischievous elves had lured her into a witch’s ring. Everywhere she turned there were mountains and mountains, and lianas of tropical flowers stretched across them.

      The rose the stranger had given her had almost withered away, but when she put it in the loop of her corsage, it bloomed again, as if it were powered by Graymore’s heart.

      «My blood is fiery,» the Princess recalled. «Could it be that this rose draws its life force from fire?»

      She could see indistinct silhouettes in the thicket. Maybe she should turn back into the forest. It was impossible to go around the mountains.

      She put her palm to her forehead and peered at the mountains. The very top of the mountains seemed to have been chiseled into the shape of castle towers. Was this a joke of nature or the work of mountain fairies?

      There was a noise from somewhere above. It sounded like the beating of wings! Were the dragons really coming? Instead of dragons, all that Graymore could make out was a large bird, diving down in a sudden dive.

      A gryphon snatched her from her saddle and carried her into the mountains. There must be an eagle’s nest, and the gryphon’s cubs were long overdue for supper. Gryamore wanted to tell the griffon that princesses weren’t even meant to be eaten by eagles, but would he understand? Killing the gryphon was a pity, too. Graymore kept her hand on her dagger, but she hesitated. As long as nothing threatened her life, she would not kill the griffin.

      As it turned out, up there was a mountain plateau, not an eagle’s nest. The griffin had brought her here and placed her on the edge of the plateau and then flew away. How strange!

      Had the gryphon decided to make it difficult for her to go down the mountain? Is it in league with the dragons? Graymore wanted to swear at the entire avian race. Should they have thought of bringing her down here? Griffins must be like magpies, dragging all men adorned with glittering jewels up into the mountains. She should have taken off her wreath, her earrings and rings.

      The sounds of chanting came to Graymore’s ears. So the plateau was not as empty as it seemed. It was hard to tell where the sounds were coming from. Graymore walked from corner to corner of the huge plateau for a long time before she came upon a cave-like hole. Strangely enough, it was curtained with a fringed velvet curtain. Pendants of gems stretched across the curtain. Could it be that mountain peri live here? Unlike fairies, they’re fond of opulence.

      Graymore drew back the curtain and stepped inside. This is not a cave! It was a palace carved into the mountain.

      The floor had been rough and stony to begin with, then replaced by smoothly hewn slabs and even mosaics. The walls of stone, though uneven, were decorated with tapestries and sconces. Graymore recoiled from one orange tapestry, which appeared to be woven of sparks and fire. Tiny fire fairies, no bigger than a cat, were crawling about, finishing the job. They wove fire around the very top of the tapestry. What a miracle!

      Graymore clenched her dagger tighter. She could hear the harp and tambourine. Was there dancing nearby? She passed farther and entered a spacious hall, where couples were waltzing. All the dancers wore masks. She was the only one who came in with her face uncovered. Graymore noticed the vines on the walls. Could a semblance of a mask be woven from them? The vines were green, but as soon as she touched them, they burst into flames.

      «The gryphon brought another girl into the tribute,» someone whispered.

      A tall man in a green cloak and a scaly half-mask was walking across the hall toward Graymore. The crown in his curly hair was also made of green scales.

      He was alone without a lady. Not surprisingly, he asked the first one who entered the hall alone to dance. Graymore didn’t suspect a trick.

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