they would rise into the starry sky.
«You’re an elf! That’s why you’re flying!» Flora tried to feel for the wings behind his back, but only touched his cloak.
«I’m only proving to you that you’re a witch, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to fly at night over the castle.»
«That’s cheating! You flew me!»
«Only witches can communicate with spirits who take them on night flights.»
Flora didn’t know what to say. Edwin had stumped her. He reluctantly returned her to the roof and muttered.
«You’re a witch after all, if you’ve managed to charm me.»
Only a witch could charm an elf, Flora suggested.
«I didn’t mean it,» she squeaked, but Edwin suddenly decided to give her a gift – a rose from the flames. The flower came out of nowhere and burned in his hand. The petals, the stem, and even the thorns of the rose were made of fire.
«Take it!»
«I’ll burn myself,» Flora was frightened, but Edwin put the fiery rose into her hand, and surprisingly, she was not burned.
But Edwin himself disappeared as if he had never been there.
A real witch
«Flora de Rione!» The mask suddenly called her by name.
«How did you know my full name?» Flora glanced warily at the mask, which was squirming and making funny faces in her hands. The holder grew hot.
«Oh, put that disgusting thing away!» The mask wailed. Its thin voice resembled a ringing sound. It seemed that it wasn’t the mask screaming, but the vase shattered and the shards fell to the floor.
«What do you mean?»
«It is this one!»
«Is it a flower?» Flora was astonished. Why didn’t the mask like flowers?
The mask blinked its empty eye sockets in agreement.
«And hurry up!»
«But it’s not disgusting! It’s a rose!»
«It’s fire! I’ll burn myself on it!»
«I don’t burn myself on it. You’re too sensitive for a gold plate,» Flora held the flaming stem in her hand and didn’t even feel the heat.
«You look dead,» the mask squinted at her. «You are senseless, like a corpse.»
«Are you insulting me?»
«I’m just characterizing you. How can a living girl not get burned by fire? Only the dead aren’t afraid of pain.»
«Maybe the rose is enchanted.»
It was given by a wizard who can fly and wields a dragon! Flora’s never had such a friend before. It’s not a friend, it’s a fairy tale! If only he hadn’t forgotten about the dinner invitation. Flora was afraid of losing such an acquaintance. Where else would she meet a magician? A new friend could be useful. If you asked a wizard for a favor, he’d roll mountains.
The mask whimpered and whined, fearing the flames from the rose would disfigure it.
«I’ll melt!» She whimpered.
«It is all right,» Flora stuck the rose into the empty hole in the candelabra.
The mask took a breath of relief. Then suddenly it cried out again in terror. Flora carried it right over the fireplace.
«Ouch, it’s hot!» The mask began to melt right in Flora’s hands, but when she took it to the shade, the melted edges were immediately restored.
«How magical you are!» Flora marveled.
«And you’re magical too!»
«What makes you think so?»
«Fire doesn’t burn you.»
«It doesn’t?» Flora thought it was funny. She put her hand to the fire in the fireplace. Indeed, it doesn’t feel hot. Flora moved her hand lower right up to the tongues of flame. It didn’t feel hot, no burn left on her palm.
«Maybe communing with a wizard conferred magic? By the way, I wonder who lit the fireplace at this late hour. All the servants are asleep.»
«No, it is not all of them,» determined the mask, listening to the silence. Her golden ears perked up. «Someone is wandering the corridor.»
«I don’t see anyone. Maybe it’s my brother back from the village tavern. He drinks there and plays cards all night long.»
«No, it’s not Rafael de Rione,» the mask objected.
«How do you even know my brother’s name? Do you read people’s minds?»
«No, I read the inscriptions on your coats of arms, shields and tapestries.»
Flora only now noticed the commemorative plaques on the walls. There they marked victories in war, weddings, birth dates, and, naturally, birth names. But the letters were so small that you couldn’t read them without a magnifying glass, and the plaques themselves were high up under the arches of the entrances. You’d have to have wings to fly up to them and read them. The plaques were for fashion, not for information.
«You have a dragon’s eyesight,» Flora praised.
«I can also flap my wings and fly to the ceiling,» the mask boasted.
«Don’t show me to Edwin,» the mask squeaked.
«Why is it not? Do you think you’re ugly? Or are you afraid he’ll cast a spell on you? You’re already bewitched.»
The mask remained silent, though Flora shook it this way and that.
«I am not a toy!» Tired of being squeezed, the mask finally declared. «Treat me gently. I am your friend from now on.»
Flora had never had a friend before. After all, there is no one to get acquainted with, and to be friends with peasants does not allow etiquette. But with a magic mask can safely be friends with a marquise, and even the queen. Magic is a rank above earthly titles and privileges.
«There is someone nearby,» the mask warned again. Its whisper sounded like the hiss of melting metal.
This time the mask was right. An old housekeeper named Drusilla was awake. She was sitting on the sill of an open window, stroking her broom lovingly for some reason. The old woman was wearing a pointed hat and a dark dress, the kind of dress one normally wears to a funeral. Where were the cream-colored collars and lace that the housekeeper usually wore?
«See you later!» The housekeeper waved to the stars as if they were her friends and hurried forward down the hall. There was no bunch of keys in her hands, but she somehow managed to open the door at the end of the hallway.
