around his chest. He couldn’t let Marianne see the thorns in his skin where his heart was.
«So this whole argument is because they’re not invited to the tournament?»
«Yes!»
«So let them in and be done with it.»
«But that’s against the rules! Elves are not men. Their strength is greater than that of men. Our knights can be wounded and even killed, but elves are invulnerable. The contestants will be unequal.»
«Then in the first round let everyone fight only a member of their own race. And in the second, if elves and humans, weighing each other’s possibilities, agree with each other, then let everyone choose an opponent himself. Whichever one wants! Whoever wants, will measure his strength with elves. Whoever chickens out has the right to refuse.»
«To be a knight is worse than to be killed!» Marianne grew indignant. «You would leave Aluar without knights at all if you allowed them to fight the elves.»
«I am going to invite more fairy knights from Shai to the tournament. They’re real monsters in armor. Even immortal elves would be sickened by the sight of them.»
«You are a villain!» Marianne clenched her fists.
«Didn’t you know that before?» Conrad pulled back the hem of his cloak and stalked away. He probably thought the ermine on his cloak came to life and squinted unhappily.
«I’m ashamed that you’re my brother!» Marianne’s angry words caught up with him.
And such scandals have run in their family ever since their parents passed away. Marianne, though younger, had decided to take on the responsibilities of a mother. Conrad tolerated her feisty temper as best he could. Never mind, Marianne would soon marry and leave Aluar for her fiancé’s small principality. To choose her consort-king she did not allow herself. Conrad unsuccessfully proposed one or the other to her. Marianne rejected all suitors: this one is too old, this one is too fat, this one is a tyrant, and this one is weak in character. In the end, she chose her betrothed based on facial beauty, not position. Conrad only had to accept her choice. It was unseemly for a royal sister to become a princess in a tiny mountainous country, but there was nothing to be done. He would have to help her future husband guard the borders against barbarian raids and nomads and demons from the same Shai. He and Queen of Shai are friends and allies now. With her they can negotiate, not fight.
With Marianne, there’s no bargain. She is more stubborn than a skittish young horse. She would never be at odds with the elves. She would make enemies who would come ravaging the Realm with a vengeance. Now she would have to apologize to them. And that’s not going to be easy. Probably some of the elves who sought her favor had already been turned away by her. Conrad noticed a pair of golden roses thrown near the throne. Usually golden roses symbolize elves’ love. Elves in love give such flowers to their chosen ladies. Bad luck for the one who tried to present them to Marianne. She tried to crush the golden flowers, but only cut her fingers.
Conrad picked up one golden rose. It turned out to be cast of pure gold, but it was alive. Its stem continued to grow, searching for a place to take root. In an instant it twisted around the king’s wrist like a bizarre, multi-layered bracelet.
«Oh, no! I’ve had enough of the rose in my heart!» Conrad gently released his hand, and a low sigh was heard from the golden rose.
A bright golden drop splashed onto the floor of the throne room. Where had it come from? A stately figure of a handsome elf with shoulder-length blond hair and a silver hoop on his forehead rose from the golden pool. He bowed to the king with one clenched fist to his heart.
Conrad stared at him in amazement. Such impertinence as to appear in his palace had never before been dared by elves. But Marianne, whom he had carelessly left to rule in his absence, had annoyed everyone. She was probably the reason every young man at Court Aluar had a crush on her. The elf now resembled an unhappy lover. He appeared before the king, fully equipped, with a quiver of arrows at his back, and a green cloak woven with elves’ coats of arms.
«So are you about the tournament?» Forgetting all etiquette, Conrad blurted out. «My sister was overreacting.»
«Lady Marianne is as beautiful as a summer flower, but her temper is hotter than a dragon’s,» the elf said impetuously, and then he blushed with embarrassment. Marianne must have hit him hard.
«She’s a moody girl,» Conrad said. «And she is not always sincere. I shall be glad to see your whole elves’ court at the tournament as honored guests.»
«But my Lady Marianne has expressly forbidden us…»
«I am king, not she!»
The elf still had his doubts. What had Marianne told him that he should be so bashful?
«I promise a kiss from my sister as a reward for anyone who wins the tournament, whether elf or mortal or a black knight from the realm of fairies!»
When the elf heard this, he glowed and shook his quiver of arrows with joy. Apparently, he expected to be the victor.
The envoy disappeared as magically as he had appeared. Conrad was left alone in the throne room. Only a pair of golden roses tinkled their petals beneath the throne. A low whisper could be heard in their ringing:
«It is a mistake! The king has made a fatal mistake!»
Conrad let the warning of the roses pass his ears. What mistake could there be. The elves are excellent allies, if their friendship can be secured. And the promise of Marianne’s kiss is worth far less than the traditional gold wreath that the winner of the tournament receives as a gift for his lady of the heart. Except that Marianne can be capricious and refuse the winner elf the prize. Then there will be no war. Conrad put his faith in luck and in the charms of the Queen of Fairies. Maybe something could be conjured up, so that the beauty of the elves would captivate even the grumpy princess.
Bride’s Sickness
Araminta has had many dreams about driving to her betrothed through stunted, enchanted woods where the trees have not a single leaf and the branches are as crooked as trolls’ fingers. Her companions whisper that the forest is haunted by evil spirits. Some sort of dwarf monster is indeed swirling under the hooves of the horses, trying to lead the entire cortege into the swamp. And voices call out from the swamp. They call out her name:
«Araminta! Araminta! Araminta!»
There is a whole chorus of voices. But where are they coming from? White winged figures swirl over the mire, like the ghosts of fairies. Araminta’s companions can’t see them, but she can. Could it be that she has discovered a secret sight? The swamp fairies turn toward her. Their faces are like plaster masks.
«Another will take your place!» They whisper.
The wheel of the carriage carrying Araminta becomes stuck in the mire. It is so easy to get stuck in the swamp forever. Araminta tries to get out. Pale, webbed hands reach out of the mire. One of them holds out a ripe fruit, like a winged apple. It is fresh and beautiful on the outside, but beneath the ruddy rind is a deadly disease.
And that’s it! The dream ends! Each time it repeats the same thing that happened to her in reality. According to the royal physician, it is a normal
