stay with us for the night,» Chloe’s pale hand tried to catch her wrist, but Rhianon dodged and picked up the train to make it easier to run up the stairs. The least resistance she expected from Chloe. Fresia’s passive and carefree companion seemed to notice her no more than a piece of furniture. It turned out that her distracted attention was capable of focusing on something after all. At any rate, she wasn’t about to let Rhianon just walk away.
«Stay with us for good, not just one night,» the unfamiliar fairy was now nimbly clutching at Rhianon’s waist. How could she have crept up behind her so silently? She hadn’t been there a moment ago. She hadn’t even been there a moment before. It was a tiny, fragile arm, but that wasn’t what made Rhianon sick. The fairy was dressed in a bright red outfit, as if woven from a purple web. Instead of a mask, her heart-shaped face was covered by the same red thread veil. To top it all off were her crimson lips, the scarlet plume of her hat, and an incredibly bright blush on her very pale face. Two scarlet blotches seemed spread across her dead-white skin. Rhianon almost vomited. It was as if on purpose the color of fire was chasing her. Could this all be a practical joke? She lashed out sharply, but someone else approached her.
«Stay with us!» In a second the voices turned into a chorus. Before she could count how many figures in fanciful costumes and masks rose up before her, one after the other.
«We won’t let you go,» the others murmured.
«We like you too much. You’re so beautiful.» Some of them were running their fingers through her hair, others were stroking her shoulders. What cold fingers they were, and how tenacious. She looked around helplessly, but all she saw were masks. It was a whirlwind of bizarre and fantastical images. White, red, purple, silk, satin, with peacock feathers or flowers-all around her were masks, and the faces under them must have been laughing. If only there were any faces under them at all. Somehow it seemed to Rhianon that it was not the masks, but nature itself that had made these creatures so unimaginative. They surrounded her. Everyone wanted to touch her. That’s how you surround a shrine, so that everyone can touch it. That was how they treated her, but she was not. Now she really felt cursed. That must have been what Manfred called her. Rhianon tried to shield herself from the touch of the masks, but they grew more insistent. Perhaps she should still thank fate that they were not trying to kill her, like the owners of this house, where they had decided to hold a masquerade. The feeling that these masks could not be removed for the simple reason that there were no other faces beneath them only intensified. She was getting scared.
«Stay with us, Goldilocks,» the hissing voices kept whispering to her. They called her many things: angel, child, princess, even my love, but she did not like the sound of their intonation. They seemed to tease her and at the same time could not understand why they were all so attracted to her. Rhianon would have used any weakness in the circle of masks to escape, but it seemed impossible to break through the breach.
«Leave me alone!» she shook off the strangers’ hands. Their coldness was making her uncomfortable. Gnarly shivers coursed down her spine, but somewhere deep inside her a flame was beginning to rise.
«Go away!» she pushed someone away, but another sprang up in his place.
«My darling,» someone whispered softly, and cold fingers touched her face again. That’s when Rhianon couldn’t take it anymore. Perhaps the strong emotions in her were always triggered in the same way, whether it was fear or anger. In any case, now a jet of fire burst from her lips as she breathed, and the man beside her recoiled. He was screaming and hiding his face. Rhianon understood why. Her brain was working feverishly and everything inside felt like it was shrinking. She felt the heat. The cold tones of the corset she was laced in could no longer contain it. Flames were bursting out and not just with her breath. Those who touched her naked shoulders jerked their hands away in horror. They were burned. Rhianon turned around at the crowd of masks. Some of them shouted, some blew on their palms, some just backed away, slowly and incredulously. Along with this, the objects around them ignited. Curtains burst into flames, flames ran through the ceiling beams. If it had found a way out, now the tension inside her would only subside after something was burnt. Rhianon feared that now the whole house would burn down, all just because they tried to keep her here. Did anyone need this house, after the owners themselves were gone. The fairies were only going to enjoy themselves here for one night and fly away for good. In that case, they could fly out of the flames as well. As if to confirm her thoughts, figures began to fly out of the burning rooms, just as unusual and masked as the ones that had followed her. They did not know what was happening, or they were furious. Rhianon did not wait for what was to come; with her hand she picked up the hem of her dress and hurried down the stairs. She tried not to touch the railing and still there were sparks dancing on it. It was the most uncontrollable flash of flame she’d ever produced. She didn’t even know she was capable of that. And, of course, she wondered why she didn’t burn with it. Each time her anger or fear burned the others, but the flames only burst out, as if there was a hearth inside her, like the mouth of a dormant volcano. She herself remained unharmed. That must be how a basilisk or salamander felt, but they knew the nature of their powers, and she didn’t. Rhianon didn’t know where it came from, and she probably didn’t even want to know. It was scary. Do dragons know the nature of their powers? There she thought again about those mythical monsters, but instead of gleaming jewel-like scales she somehow imagined someone else’s armor and a helmeted blond head, and under the visor his dragon’s gaze. There were all-seeing dragon eyes on an ever-young face. Why did she think of it that way? Maybe because if all that was left of the mansion after tonight was a crumbling wreck, the locals would blame it on the dragon. Rumor had it the creatures had rarely, if ever, been seen and not invented, but it was easier to lay the blame on them than on the princess who’d escaped. The only pity is that Manfred could link such a fire that came out of nowhere to her and then he’d be on the right trail. Then it’s a good thing the gossip didn’t get to him. Peasants in nearby villages would be far more alarmed by the bloodless corpses than by a burnt-out house. Fires sometimes do happen, with or without dragons. If the flames reached enormous proportions, it was easier, of course, to make up a dragon. Rhianon didn’t even know what would happen to her if she encountered such a creature, with scales that glittered like precious chainmail and flames bursting from its nostrils and mouth. Such a creature would be like her, but would it accept her as its own. Or would it have to assert its rights to life with its own fiery breath. She, too, could produce fire, but unlike dragons she could not do so by choice, and she had no control over her ability. She wanted only to break free of the ring of masks that surrounded her, but instead she set the whole house on fire.
The flames were devouring the mystery that would remain after the fairies were gone. She imagined those bones, adorned with velvet and jewels, but stripped of their flesh, and thought of the talk it might provoke. The superstitious villagers were ready to gossip about anything, and here was such an accident. It turns out sometimes a fire is even good for you. Once you light a house, the flames will cleanse it of the coming of evil, and then no one will know of the drama that has unfolded in it. Rhianon was only glad it wasn’t her own house or the estate of someone she knew. Such an outburst of rage would have been inappropriate there, and from here she was fleeing for good.
By the same tree Orpheus was waiting for her. He leaned carelessly against the trunk, crossed his arms across his chest, and watched apathetically as flames burst from the windows.
«Best fireworks I’ve ever seen in my life,» he commented as he spotted the Mistress running down the stairs.
«You mean all eternity,» she frowned. «Oh, don’t be so modest, I’m sure you’ve seen better fireworks. There were at least the dragon raids. Don’t tell me you’ve never seen one in your whole life.»
«Are we expecting something like that here?»
«I won’t
