cities, after all. How could she be stopped? No one had ever been able to catch her. It was useless to send guards to look for her. It was as if she vanished into space, only to reappear for a brief moment, make trouble, and then disappear again. Was there anything he could do against her at all? He could think of nothing himself. Nor was it any use going to his advisors. Everyone in the hall looked lost and dejected. Angus was worried about his lost lands, Hermione was nervously biting his lower lip, Roderick, Darius and Clotair were muttering silent glances at each other. No one was in a hurry to suggest anything. Manfred himself was confused. At moments like this, it seemed to him that all earthly and material things were powerless, kingdoms and armies and weapons, nothing could help. So is it not time to resort to the unearthly and forbidden. It is worth calling for Douglas. He balled his hand firmly into a fist and almost shouted his name. The young warlock was just what he needed. Let him earn his keep as court sorcerer. He was honored that the king wanted to see him at all.
Douglas himself did not think so. He watched the hall from his secret loopholes. Beneath him the two standards pinned above the doors were just crossed and the wall clock was nervously ticking. It was curious to watch the gathering from here, but not being able to fly from place to place and the fear of falling would chase him away. Too high, and he had no wings. Douglas sighed dolefully, catching the call in Manfred’s head. He didn’t want to use his wits right now. Besides, the wind seemed to have changed. The beautiful Rhianon was about to reclaim hers. He wished he had wings so he could fly to the burned city, scoop up a handful of ash, and let it fall between his fingers until the fragments of the night were upon him. Rhianon returns, and with her comes the element of fire. Douglas has lived long enough to fear fire, dragons, and any confrontation with what he himself is powerless against. But rumors of Rhianon suddenly drew him in as well. It is interesting to see a girl stronger than an entire dragon pack. The only thing was whether you would live to see such a beauty. He had nothing left to lose. A vision flashed through the tower and shook him. It was as if Mastema and Rhianon were together. He should have felt a burning jealousy, but he felt nothing. After Rianon had appeared and gone, a surprising emptiness had formed inside him. The wound once scorched in his mind by the image of Dennitsa began to heal. It was replaced by something else.
She longed unbearably for another glimpse of Madael. If only sometimes he’d fallen asleep, she could have looked at him asleep and imprinted every feature in her mind. But it was as if sleep was unnecessary for him. The seductive image of the angel sleeping with his own wings and sunny curls spread across the pillow was just a play on her imagination. He would be vulnerable if he could sleep. Even she, his lover, could sneak up on him and wound him. As long as a man sleeps, he is defenseless. Can a supernatural being sleep sensitively enough to wake up at the first approach of danger? And can such a creature be wounded at all? Rhianon had a lot of questions piling up. She had noticed that Madael never sleeps. Even when he cradled her in his arms at night, he himself never felt sleepy. He was also never tired, never eating or drinking, except for entertainment. Since his subjects had mutilated corpses on the battlefield, why shouldn’t he taste blood from time to time? It was a matter of principle, not necessity. He drank without taste and hardly touched raw meat. He took no pleasure in human suffering, but he didn’t want to end it either. He was tired of battles that meant nothing to him, but he still flew off to some of them just for the call of duty. Perhaps now he was flying off somewhere, too. Pity, Rhianon would have liked to see his golden-blond head bowed on their bed or beasts’ skins, would have liked to see how he slept for once and whether in his sleep he looked as vulnerable as any living person. She would like to see him one more time at all before she might be gone forever.
Forever! Is that really what she wants? Rhianon nervously clutched the pendant in her hand. The pendant had taken on the appearance of a pink thorn, and she could have wound herself on it in a moment. She did prick her finger. A scarlet drop of blood protruded from it, and it reminded her of death. She wondered if she had the strength and nerve to draw her sword and cut off the head of a sleeping angel. Would she have been able to do something like that out of jealousy or revenge, or maybe out of a desire to protect her own life? Was she the only one who dreamed of possessing Dennitsa’s non-smoldering head and taking it with her as a priceless trophy?
«I wanted to,» said a voice behind her, but Rhianon knew it was useless to turn around, because there was nothing but the vibrations of air and emptiness, but the voice sounded, stern. «I loved him, too. I too dreamed of his tenderness, not his war. Don’t make my mistake again.»
«I already did,» she said into the void. In the human world it would have been strange, everyone would have looked back at the girl who was talking to herself, but here in the celestial castle it was the order of the day. Rhianon suddenly realized that she had heard this voice before. Two voices, to be exact, one sterner, the other more gentle, but both full of sounds of unearthly harmony. These were the voices spoken to her by those who called to her in her dreams. Perhaps she should have been wary, for they always wanted to take her somewhere far away, to a height she feared. And what would be there? Where would the endless staircase of her dreams lead? Why were they so anxious for her not to meet Madael? They were jealous. They wanted to take her far away from the earth before she saw the inimitable warrior. And what would happen up there, on the heights? Wouldn’t they have pushed her down? It seemed time to ask questions, but her tongue would not listen. Rhianon was numb for a moment. She realized who was calling her, and it frightened her.
«I am like him, and you decided to replace him with me, because I am not strong enough to rebel against anyone,» she asked questions into the void, but she was not afraid of getting silence in return. She had already figured it all out on her own. «Do you think I would be more obedient than him?»
There was only a breeze that blew against her shoulders, but it felt like a touch. Rhianon closed her eyelids, feeling the pleasure of a previously unfamiliar closeness. It felt like a void caressing her, and in that void she could see the outlines of wings, beautiful faces, the movements of lips. She would have enjoyed it forever if the serene harmony had not been replaced by the familiar images of heavenly war, fire, and scorched bodies. These fragments had not left her mind for a long time. And they fundamentally changed everything. She really wasn’t the only one who dreamed of cutting off Madael’s head and keeping it as a precious trophy. Such dreams and desires had arisen in the minds of celestial creatures long before humans were born. He was a temptation to all, the one she loved. So now why did she suddenly want to leave him?
It was as if it wasn’t even her idea. Rhianon was confused. She shook her head tiredly. The black creature that had been cowering in Madael’s tower and then pestering her in the tent seemed to begin whispering poisonous incitements to her again. Kill yourself to free him. Rhianon did not want to hear any more of this.
She clutched the pendant in her hands and wished she were somewhere as far away from here as possible. Most of all she wished she was back in Vinor, and finding herself suddenly in a dark alleyway she realized she was in one of the cities of that kingdom.
Moonlight poured down on the sidewalk. The dirty reflections of the torches fixed in brackets over the gables of the houses could not spoil its purity. Rhianon was suddenly frightened that with this glow, those who had spoken to her had been transported to Vinor. She turned around cautiously, but now there was really nothing but emptiness behind her shoulders. The streets of the city diverged in several directions. Rhianon stepped forward a little. It was dark and deserted. Rhianon liked to feel that she was alone wandering in the night, and the night felt as if it belonged to her.
It felt like she was the only one here. She could do anything she wanted, even fly over the city. Maybe she should summon fairies and dance with them in the streets. Rhianon felt like kicking off her shoes and dancing on the sidewalk. She took the pins out of her hair, spread her arms, and twirled on the spot. The moonlight shone
