Rosa and easily, like a feather, tore her off the floor. A moment later, the dragon with its prey was already hovering high in the sky.
The island was left far behind, the Silver River from the height of the clouds seemed like a narrow, trembling thread, and the villages were scattered on the ground in cubes. Nothing could slow down the frantic flight in the sky. The dragon soared even higher, not releasing its prey from its claws.
Gusts of icy wind whipped Rose across the face. The earth was already out of sight. The cold light of the stars reflected in the dragon scales.
An arrow dropped from a bowstring does not fly as fast as this glittering monster. The dragon raced forward, flapping golden wings incessantly. The whistling wind enveloped them. Then he slowed down and began to descend, slowly and smoothly. Rose saw the land, like one airy snowball.
The dragon sank even lower, so that the sloping roofs of the village houses became visible. Residents poured out into the street and pointed their hands up. Some were shouting something, others rushed into the loose. Flakes of snow swirled in the icy air, blocking the look of fear on their faces.
The dragon sank very low and suddenly breathed fire. Rose covered her face with her free hand. The heat from the fire scorched her cheeks, but the flame itself did not touch her. But the roofs of the houses flared up like dry rods. Orange sparks spread to the fragile, thatched roofs of barns and dovecotes.
The peasants fled, but the flame overtook them like a living creature, hissed and grabbed at their clothes. The dragon turned sharply and erupted from his mouth another column of fire.
Rose was numb with fear. What will happen to her? Will the dragon throw her into this huge fire and fly away? But he did not even think about releasing his captive. Golden wings flapped gracefully and the dragon flew towards the forest, blackened in the distance. Rose gripped a polished, smooth claw larger than hers with a hand. She was afraid to fall and break, afraid to turn around and see the village engulfed in tongues of poisonous flame.
A round dance of patterned snowflakes circled outside the window. Hungry wolves howled in the thicket. The trees stood in a ghostly line. Their trunks were buried in the snow.
The small hut was warm and cozy. Smoke poured from the chimney. A fire crackled in the stove. The aroma of delicious food was in the air.
Rose woke up, and slowly her eyes began to get used to the semi-darkness. She lay on a round bunk, shaped like a deep-bottomed bowl. It looked like a fairy crib made from a nutshell. Rose warmed up and calmed down. There are only vague memories of the fear experienced.
Someone covered her with a soft blanket and put a pillow under her head. For a long time no one cared about her like that. The Queen would rather scold her than help her.
Rose tried to get a better look at the meager furnishings of the hut. She noticed the skin of a dead bear on the floor, a crudely hammered table and a couple of chairs.
A graceful, strong hand placed the lantern on the table. Rose closed her eyes against the blinding light. When she opened her eyes, she saw a beautiful, white face bending over her. For a moment she thought she was seeing an angel.
“Everything will be fine, dear girl,” came a quiet, male voice. “No one will offend you here.”
Rose could not take her eyes off the innocent, youthful face, from the cold, blue eyes. After all, the eyes are the mirror of the soul. And in those sad eyes, she noticed a strange reflection, a mystery hanging over them.
She wanted to ask the stranger who he was. She had seen him before in some kind of ghostly, terrible dream, and now he was there. A phosphoric glow seemed to emanate from his face. A pair of curls fell over his smooth forehead. Oh yes, those curls. They are so reminiscent of… Rose tried to shake off the unpleasant sensation, but could not. The obvious cannot be denied. This young man has hair exactly the same color as dragon scales. Even in the dark, they shine with pure gold.
“Am I sleeping?” Rose asked.
He shook his head silently. The wolf howl outside the window now resembled a lullaby. A faint, wavering light fell like a filamentous veil on the walls.
The golden-haired youth walked for a second to the stove, poked the ash with a poker, and then returned back to Rose. He thrust a pewter mug of steaming drink into her hands.
Rose took a sip. The hot liquid burned her throat, and a pleasant warmth spilled over her body. The aroma of roasted meat spread through the hut and made her feel hungry.
The snowstorm outside the window was getting worse. The wind howled monotonously. Singing, inhuman voices sounded in time with him in the trumpets.
“Winter!” Rose whispered. “Winter has already come!”
Only now she woke up from dreams and began to really look at the world. But what was the use of looking for reality in a world that in an instant acquired a fabulous gloss. In this transformed universe, anything could happen.
“What month is it now?” The princess asked.
“January,” came the reply.
“How long did I stay in the courtroom?”
“For the uninitiated, the days there fly like minutes. Sorcerers prefer violent entertainment. A child who has been imprisoned for six months is released as an old man. For a number of reasons, the entrance to the island is closed to ordinary people. In addition, very often sorcerers themselves cannot keep track of the passage of time in their possessions. They are lucky because they are immortal.”
The young man looked straight at Rose and smiled his cold, charming smile. Judging by his clothes, he was a nobleman. The blue camisole embroidered with gray pearls further emphasized the whiteness of the skin. And a sword with a silver hilt fastened to a sling indicated an aristocratic origin. According to the law, only titled persons and their eldest sons had the right to carry such weapons. Rose studied the chiseled profile of the young man for a long time before she decided to ask:
“Who are you?”
“Don’t you remember me?” He wondered. “Oh yes! I completely forgot. I’m branded now.”
He stressed the last word. The voice now rang with heartache. The right hand clenched into a fist in impotent rage and fell against the wall. From such a blow, the plaster crumbled, leaving a dent in the wall.
“I don’t remember anything other than a frantic flight in the sky and a flaming village,” Rose almost shouted.
With the sounds of her melodious voice, the old calmness returned to the young man. Only a rebellious fire lurked in his eyes.
“I didn’t want to submit to fate,” he said apologetically. “Everyone has their own fate in life. My mentors decided everything for me.”
“What are you talking about?” Rose interrupted him. “You also fell victim to the dragon?”
“Dragon?” he looked at her with such amazement, as if he had heard the name for the first time. For a moment, Rose thought that a black winged shadow flashed through his clear blue eyes.
A frightening silence hung in the room. Without support, the fire
