think so!» Flora looked out the window. There was no golden glow in the dark sky. So the dragon has not flown yet.
«The dragon loves your songs.»
«You mean the songs of innocent girls? I heard that somewhere.»
«No, it is yours exactly,» objected the witch.
«But he’s never even heard me sing, unless he’s been listening, lurking under the windows like a mouse. That’s not typical dragon behavior!»
«You drove him crazy and made him behave like a dragon!»
«Why am I the bad one?»
«Is that a bad thing?» Drusilla is wary. «What’s bad is that you’re singing now. It’s better not to sing! Otherwise we’ll be exposed.»
«Anyone who enters this room will expose us,» Flora glanced at the living mask and the fire rose. Only a drunken Raphael could miss those two magical objects.
The mask squeaked and shunned the fire rose. She had no objection to the witch with the broom.
«I can’t do this!» Flora tried to tie the ends of the wreath with ribbon and couldn’t.
«You have to tie the leaves in a knot,» Drusilla advised.
«How is it?» Flora was surprised, but the leaves suddenly knotted themselves together. The wreath was complete. «It’s still not magical! I did something wrong!»
Flora didn’t know how to chase the witch away from the sofa. Drusilla had her leg over her foot and was playing with her broom.
«That’s right!» She determined, glancing at the wreath. «Now you must put it on your head and wrap it around your axis three times. Then the spirits will appear and surround you in a circle.»
«And then?»
«Then you can ask them anything you want.»
Flora didn’t want to ask the spirits anything. She would gladly have thrown the wreath away and forgotten about it, but how to put the witch’s guard down? Drusilla watched her like a gendarme. How to chase the witch out of her bedroom? Send a letter with her to the town manager or even the king? Drusilla would just get on her broom and deliver the message.
«I have an idea!» Flora wanted to throw the wreath into the fireplace. As she stood up from her chair, a dragon’s curious face poked through the window. Its golden hide glittered so brightly that it hurt her eyes. Flora shrieked.
Apparently the dragon was expecting admiration, not panic, so it retreated resentfully. Now only the starry sky was visible through the window, but Drusilla was wary.
«I told you not to sing! Look, you’ve attracted a dragon!»
«It’s already gone.»
«No, it hasn’t!» The witch shook her head.
Flora looked out of the window. There was no sign of the dragon.
Drusilla’s deft hands placed a wreath on Flora’s head.
«This will protect you.»
Flora felt the thorns prick her forehead. Good protection!
«Guard my mask for now, while I take a walk around the castle,» Flora tried to get rid of the annoying witch.
«Do you wish to summon spirits alone?» Drusilla grinned understandingly. «Good! I don’t have any witches’ sabbath on my schedule today that I need to fly to, so I’ll stay here.»
How easy it was to fool the witch! Flora hurried out of the bedroom and slammed the door behind her. If the witch started visiting her every night, she would probably go mad.
The castle hallway was quiet. No servants were seen on the way, but Flora had a mania for stalking. She thought she saw a dragon’s powerful paw following her, and a dragon’s tail dragging across the carpet.
Couldn’t the dragon have gotten into the castle? At its size, it was unrealistic. Unless it can shrink at will.
From behind, the clawing of dragon claws could be heard. Flora chickened out and turned around. There was no dragon in the corridor of the castle, of course, but here she was, like a naive fool, fulfilled the witch’s condition – made a turn around its axis. And the unfortunate wreath of blue roses was on her head. She had to take it off immediately, but the translucent figures had already separated from the walls and circled around Flora. One would have thought they were ghosts that emerged from the portraits of her ancestors, but looking at them, Flora didn’t recognize any familiar faces. They were really spirits of the night, not ghosts from portraits.
«Beware!» They whispered. «If you go any further, your plan will fail! The dragon will expose you. You’re going straight to your past now. Better go back to your bedroom and sleep till morning. Then the danger will be over.»
Why would the spirits warn her? Flora didn’t believe them. After all, spirits are notorious liars.
She turned her back on them and walked away. The spirits immediately left her behind. It was probably because she turned around her axis once, not three times as Drusilla had instructed. Otherwise the spirits would have haunted her all night.
There were strange noises coming from her father’s study, as if her father were doing another alchemical experiment. Mother’s portrait hung right next to his study, as if mother was still alive. Usually the portraits of deceased marquises and marquises were moved to the portrait gallery.
Flora cast a quick glance at her mother’s portrait. Somehow it seemed that the portrait was looking at her with living eyes. Maybe she should turn around three times near it to summon the ghost of the Marquise Archibalda and question it. What on earth had happened to her? Flora was curious if the witch’s magic would work. She adjusted the wreath on her forehead and wrapped herself around her axis three times.
«Spirit of the Marquise Archibalda de Rione, I summon you!» She said.
And nothing happened! The magic didn’t work! How could it?
Flora looked at the empty corridor and saw no more spirits in it. But the wall clock showed midnight. It was echoed by the tower chimes.
In the dining room, oddly enough, dinner was being prepared. The silverware was clinking and the cook’s assistants were bustling about. Dinner after midnight was commonplace at the Marquis de Rione’s castle. Flora’s father, who tangled with alchemists and astrologers, often hosted a late-night feast for his friends. Flora didn’t want to sit between her father’s guests all night long and listen to the most boring descriptions of alchemical experiments. But she was suddenly hungry. The tantalizing aroma of spit-roasted lamb wafted from the hall. It was as if the castle was preparing for a dragon’s feast! Would Edwin come to dinner? No sign of him yet. But dishes of roast pheasant and quail were placed on a long table. Someone had decorated the table with a vase containing a lush bouquet of forget-me-nots. This is not typical of the Chateau de Rione. There are no forget-me-nots around here.
«Don’t forget me,» a whisper came from the flowers.
It seemed to Flora that all the forget-me-nots had
