you hold someone in your arms, like this ball of fire that now hung in the darkness in front of her, you don’t worry about anything anymore. Tame fire is your element; there can be no rebellion in it. The ghost of the School of Witchcraft knew what he taught her. All you need is to know how to control fire, and it will not frighten you.
“I want justice, Rhianon, I want no unhappy people in my realm.”
“And I don’t want outside threats either. It is not only from men, but also from the evil of the forests. For this you are even ready to conclude a new political marriage, this time not with a mortal princess, but with a fairy queen out of the woods? You believe that an alliance with her would make the borders secure and the wicked obedient.”
Rhianon saw the blush on his cheeks. It pleased her. It was nice to see someone’s embarrassment.
Now she even understood why Orpheus so often joked and mocked others, he liked to feel like a winner. The joker is always on top, and the one who believes the joke is his plaything. That’s how jesters rule over kings. She laughed involuntarily. If Orpheus appeared to her now, she would not allow him any more such liberties. She must hold him in her hands.
“Don’t take everything so seriously. You, the ruler, are responsible for the people, for the nobles and for your own head. Just one conspiracy you didn’t watch out, and it’ll be off your shoulders. One mistake, one oversight, one failure to follow through, and you are no longer a king. Politics is a perpetual balance, life is black and white, there is no wholly white and wholly black even in heaven. God is also a ruler, sometimes very cruel, and the Devil is only his servant. The devil does evil only when he does God’s will, not when he wants to. We humans, ordinary and crowned alike, resort to belief in God only in order to protect ourselves from the devil. All is hypocrisy, and we live with it. So why should we, mere mortals, strive to be nobler than deity. After all, we are his creatures and we think in his image.
He looked at her and didn’t even dare raise his hand to wipe the burning sweat from his forehead.
“Are you excusing me or condemning me?”
“People are just trying to survive in an unjust world. And you also have great responsibilities. But I condemn all those who, instead of doing the work, indulge their own ego – the Inquisition and men of the rank among them. I despise them. And the evil one is not afraid of them. Think about it, can those who themselves stood in the ranks of the angels of God be afraid of divine symbols. Besides, these symbols were invented not by God, but by people. There is a belief-the serpent and the cross. I often imagine a crucifix wrapped around a serpent. It is said that such symbols are stamped on the covers of witchcraft books. But does the dragon run from the cross. Show him the cruciform shape of your sword and he will disappear. When you went into battle, you counted on it.”
“Not quite! More like a sword blade,” he admitted honestly. “Not really,” he admitted honestly. “We had archers, a lot of men who died in the swamp, cannon on a gun carriage, chains, maces…”
“Not even a catapult would have done you any good. Not many cannons, – dragons are invulnerable.”
“It’s their scales. They’re like jewels, aren’t they?”
Rhianon gave him a hard look.
“You are very observant. You noticed that too, didn’t you?” She stared at his face for a long moment, the straight, graceful nose, the seductive lips, the thoughtful, big eyes. He’s smarter than she first thought, yet he can be so sincere.
The ball of flame was still hovering in the air, but it had already begun to cast sparks. One of them fell on Rhianon’s dress, but it did not burn the thin silk. The cloth woven by fairies’ hands was not flammable, nor could it be damaged. Rhianon smoothed the ruffles with her fingers. It was as if sparks hadn’t touched them. The air around the balloon grew hot. She could feel the heat, but it didn’t hurt, and it was harder for Ferdinand, who was sitting beside her, to bear it. He was tense, but he wasn’t about to leave. He liked to sacrifice his own comfort to be near her. Rhianon leaned back and leaned her head against the trunk of a beech tree. Her golden hair laced the bark. She could feel the roughness of the wood in the back of her head, hear the woodworms crawling up and down the trunk, and hear the superhuman life bubbling up and down the leaves and the roots. Oh, she suspected it was there. There were supernatural beings everywhere, even if they remained completely invisible to mortals. No Inquisition could help against them. Ferdinand is somewhat ridiculous. But he could be so loyal and understanding. Just the kind of friend she had always dreamed of.
Madael hid his secrets. With him, understatement was acceptable. He was an angel, he was a mystery himself. Humans are simpler. Someone mortal could get closer and even say goodbye to life because of you. But a beloved demon is still no substitute for him. The handsome young man beside her dreamed of shared love, of mutual warmth, of trust. She could only offer him scalding fire.
She purposely loosened her grip for a moment, and the fireball burst into a myriad of sparkling sparks. Some of them burned Ferdinand. Other sleeping warriors, now reluctant to wake, muttered a curse and hurried to extinguish the items that had begun to ignite, or even the dry branches beneath them. A torrent of sparks fell into the grass and the driftwood, and even touched the trees, but there was no fire. Rhianon now knew how to neutralize the destructive force. Tiny sparks of fire reluctantly subdued her and went out, flying away harmlessly.
So she knew how to do some things without needing the advice of her mentor. Both Rothbert and Clive were right. They each said, in their own way, that he who has a priceless gift must learn everything on his own. So Rhianon was learning. She liked to master her talents the way others mastered the arts. To control the power that dormant in you is wonderful.
Ferdinand was impressed, but she knew he would not say a word to his entourage. No one would know that the little nighttime fireworks display was no accident. It had been set off by a lady who had come out of the woods. Now someone was reciting prayers, someone was inspecting the gaps in their cloaks, Ferdinand, for example, was holding back from blowing on his burned palms. He had taken off his gauntlets at such bad timing. Large red spots were now spreading across his fingers and down to his wrist. Such severe burns could not have occurred after the nettles. In her mind Rhianon sympathized with him, but she didn’t know how to help. It was unlikely her touch would be healing, and she was not yet versed in medicinal herbs. She was not Hildegard, she had no need to fumble with poisons and potions. Even if such ability came to her in time, she had no use for it. Her power lies elsewhere.
“Angry that I burned you?” She asked in a casual tone as the others went back to sleep after some grumbling. No supernatural foe threatened them from the darkness, and yet many knights clung to their swords even in their sleep. Ferdinand, unlike them, was calm, though he already knew what the source of the danger was.
He only shook his head in the negative and a coy smile bloomed on his lips. He had beautiful lips, Rhianon noted to herself, his mouth wide and sensual, his lower lip a little full, the color of his skin pale and still reminiscent of a juicy fruit. What would it be like to kiss a human rather than an angel? For the first time she thought about something like that. Aloud, however, she spoke on a very different subject.
“No one is allowed to insult the king. A wrongdoer, even an accidental one, can’t stay alive after he’s harmed you.”
She wanted to tease him, but it didn’t work with Ferdinand.
“But after all, fairies are supposed to have
