partition. Unreasonable tears choked the princess. She saw how white smoke envelops the sparkling silhouette and the serpent itself slowly escapes from sight, returning back to its magical world.
Outside the window was again a marvelous landscape. Butterflies filled the garden. Yellow lemongrass nestles on the window ledge. And the winged serpent was gone. Rose froze in place like a mannequin. An aching feeling of loneliness arose in her heart.
As soon as it began to get dark, the door to the room swung open noiselessly. At first it seemed to Rose that the figure that appeared on the threshold was surrounded by a black cloud and did not allow her feet in ridiculous, crimson shoes to touch the ground.
The vision vanished instantly. Mara strode into the room with a stubborn, arrogant gait. A dress embroidered with satin flowers and beads could not brighten up the pointed features of her face. On the contrary, artsy fashions added a repulsive arrogance to her shortcomings. The desire to stay on top in front of everyone has become a kind of mania for the mistress of this palace.
Mara shook a shock of red hair, the headband sparkled with the smallest emeralds, softening the bright redness of her hair.
Rose had to listen to enthusiastic greetings and compliments. Not a single word from Mara was sincere. The fire-haired cousin could boast of wealth, but not honesty. But she boldly poured out pleasantries. Her narrowed brown eyes wandered beside the sofa in the stone alcove and unpacked luggage.
“I’m glad you got here safe and sound,” Mara said, drawing out every word. Her chatter now resembled a chorus to some intriguing ballad.
“You know that several villages have been burned to the ground. And around the burnt earth a poisonous mist settled. The fauna wastes away at the behest of the dragon. Gnomes are hiding underground. The elves are more fortunate, they have holes. But the peasants are doomed to perish. Mara paused and gave her companion a sly smile.
“You have nothing to fear here, my dear,” she continued. “For those who are within the walls of my chateau, I guarantee complete safety.”
Mara walked over to the piled-up belongings in the corner and pushed open the lid of a massive wrought-iron chest. Rose did not even notice how it was brought in along with her own things. The heavy, copper-plated chest was completely unfamiliar to her.
“I want to give you a present,” Mara announced, and drew a sparkling ball gown from the copper void. The glitter emanating from the flowing matter dazzled the eyes. Rose ran her hand along the lush cascade of brocade skirts and immediately recoiled, as if she had skinned her fingers. A strange coincidence struck her. The dress was golden. After the peasant’s story, only the sight of gold could cause nausea and fear, and the reminder of a flying snake was identified with secret and magical darkness. What kind of inexorable fate could connect links in a chain of strange and exciting events?
Rose turned her gaze to her cousin. Now Mara looked like a pale moth. If it were not for the red plait of hair intertwined with a thread of pearls, then this arrogant lady would not be more beautiful than the deceased. Even in her heavy, smoky outfit, she looked splinter-thin. Long, tenacious hands gripped the gift like a deadly amulet. The garment was accompanied by a headdress in the same style.
“You should wear this to the ball tonight,” Mara said in a hushed voice. She handed Rose a dress and headed for the exit.
“At five to twelve we are waiting for you in the hall of mirrors,” she explained in an indisputable tone. Mara paused at the door. The light of the lamp fell on her face, outlined thin cheekbones. A deathly pale brow was covered with a rash of freckles, and her mouth curved into an avid, cruel grin. In the next moment, the cousin slipped out of the room like an ethereal ghost.
The door slammed shut behind her with such force that the hinges creaked and groaned. Each wall in this building resembled a living, mythical creature. Each window casement here had eyes that closely watched the newcomer. But as soon as one turned around and the walls turned to stone again, and the spirits living in them imperceptibly laughed at their accuser.
Rose stood in the middle of the room, clutching a gift, and shadows flickered and waltz around her. The gold brocade burned her fingers. The enchanted bedroom walls whispered among themselves.
Sharp beams of light danced across the polished table top. But the wreath was no longer on the table. Together with it, the otherworldly force disappeared, by order of the troll hiding in flowers and protecting the princess.
As midnight drew near, life awakened in the chateau. The guests dressed up and floated out of their chambers, as if resurrected from the underworld. If at the height of the day it seemed to the princess that this palace was uninhabited, now she could only be surprised at the abundance of dressed up and arrogant gentlemen crowding at the front stairs and passages. Footmen in colorful liveries pushed aside and fastened the curtains with ribbons. And outside the windows in all its splendor appeared the starry sky.
Sunlight had no right to enter the palace premises, and the night here enjoyed special privileges. Windows were specially opened for her, as if she was an honored guest and patroness of local entertainment.
Rose walked through the suite of rooms and found herself in a kind of gallery. Dim pointed stars gazed silently at the girl from both sides through the Gothic windows. No matter how much Rose looked at the dark firmament before, she had never seen such bizarre constellations. A terrible guess flashed through my head. The bizarre interweaving of stars condones witchcraft, which is why they seem ridiculous in comparison with other luminaries. And they appear exclusively over the dwelling of a sorcerer or a person against whom witchcraft is directed. So, in the chateau, someone is either initiated in the wisdom of the forbidden sciences, or incurred the hatred of an evil wizard and thus deserves a magical punishment.
Suddenly a cold, dank wind whipped Rose across the face. The princess was even indignant. Whatever tricks the sorcerers do, and winter winds should not be allowed to walk through the summer expanses. Rose inhaled the frosty air, and it burst from her mouth in warm steam. Steam floated across the floor and surrounded the girl’s figure in white clouds. But she hurriedly tore herself out of the white ring and walked away.
Miracles like winter winds in summer and frightening constellations usually don’t bode well. Rose was afraid that her hearing was about to pick up another vibration in the wall or a low, malicious laugh emanating from the void, but this time nothing of the kind happened. Where a company of people gathered, the self-willed walls instantly stopped whispering, as if they had turned into a rumor.
It was rather difficult to navigate in the luxurious maze of halls and guest rooms. Rose lost her way, turned into a narrow corridor and found herself in a dead end. There was only a rickety spiral staircase that led to a round, flaky door at the very top. Bolts protruded from the rusting railing. The steps creaked. And the dirty, shabby door was tight against the wall. Such squalor was inappropriate among the surrounding tinsel and lush decoration. Why was this staircase not repaired and the door not painted? Mara could buy any trinkets and jewelry, she could give her home a fabulous look, and she didn’t even deign to clean up one single corner in the palace.
On the steps were dry leaves and scraps of woolen cloth. The servants didn’t even bother to throw this trash away. Maybe someone brought here dried tulips and gnawed fish bones on purpose. All this was like some kind of mysterious ritual. Rose wanted to go upstairs and see what was hidden behind this door. She had already stepped on a shaky step, but then out of nowhere emerged two agile pages and blocked her path.
“Don’t
