why?”
“Well, you anyway think so?”
“Yes. And I think correctly. It's true. And if had said before, I would not have left. If you were afraid to say, thinking that I would be scared and leave, and you needed me for your witchcraft…”
“Ooh, fuck you,” Nikto drawled. He threw away the grass washcloth and looked at Karina very carefully. “Come here.”
“What for?”
“Are you afraid? How are you going to go to Arel? He is more terrible than me in the way he treats women. And Lis is there.”
“And if I tell them everything? That you are a Demon.”
“They know.”
Karina was taken aback:
“Did you tell them?”
“Come here.”
She came up, and he pulled her to him, brought her face close, looking straight into the eyes.
“Tell them what you want, I don't care. And I told you now simply because now it is possible. But don't ask any more.”
He pushed her away lightly:
“Are you going to wash?”
In the evening they came to the Estate, Nikto led them in roundabout ways, literally in vegetable gardens, so as not to catch the eye of rare peasants, however, most of them, apparently, worked in the fields and didn’t meet them. Having gone around a large massive house, Nikto opened some kind of back gate.
“We sneak like thieves,” Karina said.
“Do you want all the servants to stare at you?”
“No.”
And still, in spite of all the precautions, at the very porch they still came across some burly maid, who, seeing strangers coming out from around the corner, gasped, bulging her eyes, and rushed in the opposite direction from them.
Chapter five
Friends
Karina and Nikto entered the house and the main hall of the Estate. Arel and Lis were sitting at the table in front of them. And Lis’ face was crudely painted in the way cheap jesters usually paint themselves at fairs. And in his ears, instead of earrings, jester's bells glittered. The absurd make-up distorted his features, and he could only be recognized by his red hair.
“Oh,” Karina involuntarily burst out at the sight of this.
“Hello,” said Nikto, and looking at Lis, too, couldn’t resist and grunted.
“Nik! Nik! Gods! My Nik!” Arel shouted, jumping up and not paying any attention to their somewhat dumbfounded appearance. He rushed to Nikto, falling on his knees in front of him and hugging his legs, repeating as if instinctively:
“Nik, Nik, Nik! I don't believe in this happiness!”
Nikto bent down to hug him and lift him from his knees. He smiled:
“I'm back,” he said. And Arel showered him with kisses, kissed his hands, and there were tears in his eyes.
Karina sat down wearily on the bench at the entrance. The prince, not paying any attention to her, dragged Nikto with him deep into the room, to the stairs leading to the second floor of the house.
“Come on, come with me,” he literally dragged Nikto behind him, and he, without resisting, followed him.
Karina and Lis stayed in the room together. She was afraid to look up so as not to meet his eyes. He looked so terrible, so shameful. However, Prince Arel didn’t look better. She remembered how she missed them and regretted that she had left the Castle then. As she looked from afar, sitting in the lower Coliseum at the final fight of Nikto. How she worried about Arel when he was beaten during interrogation. And now there they were, close again. Arel was so sharp, impulsive, as always, it seemed to her that he was not sober. Has he ever been sober at all? The prince was now very close, and she felt nothing, no joy or awe. He was dressed bad, without jewelry, also barefoot, somehow all careless, sloppy. His dark hair was not combed, it was disheveled, in tangles, it fell in untidy strands on his face as he spread, crawling in front of his Nikto. And this tattoo of his, she forgot about it, and now she saw it so clearly; a black dragon on his entire cheek, really on half of his face (as it seemed to her) caught her eye. She was generally afraid to look up at Lis, he was also not combed, his hair was pulled away raggedly, he looked better on trial. And now they seem to have completely sunk down. She didn't even want to think about the fact that his nose and mouth were painted red. Arel painted him like a jester, and Lis allowed it to him again. As well as when they put on him a “shameful strip” with bells. What a fool? And so she sat, afraid to move and look up, not understanding what she was doing here and what was next. She looked up only when she heard that Lis was getting up from his place, the bells rang, and he went up to her. Their eyes met, he looked at her from top to bottom, looked with challenge and, as it seemed to her, with anger. In fright and confusion, she lowered her eyes again, and then he grabbed her by the forearm, pulling her upward, lifting her from the bench. He struck her backhand, she clenched her teeth, not uttering a sound. He struck again, throwing her in the middle of the room to the table. Karina seemed to be numb, not resisting. Lis grabbed her and threw her roughly on the trestle bed in the corner of the room.
Approaching her, he began to tear off her clothes. She let him do whatever he wanted. The bells in his ears rang unbearably and out of tune when he, crushing it under him, leaning on top, feverishly fucking her, breathing heavily and hoarsely, all his actions and movements – everything was with force, roughness, with some kind of anguish. He quickly froze on her, the bells fell silent, and she heard his heart pounding wildly in her chest. Karina stretched out her arms and hugged him, hugged him, holding him closer to her, squeezed his head with her palms, turning his face, no longer distorted by malice, towards her. He tried to turn away, looking away. His mouth, painted in red, smiled from ear to ear. He pushed her away, getting up, walking away.
He sat down at the table, she remained lying, there was no strength to get up, there was no strength to say anything. This is just the beginning, she thought. “Forgive me, dad.”
So they sat in silence until dusk thickened over the house and the room became almost dark; Karina dozed off, she saw that Lis was smoking, lighting a cigarette from one another. And he didn’t touch either the wine or the food on the table.
Arel dragged Nikto upstairs to his room.
“You're back! You have returned!” He whispered, falling back on the bed, and throwing Nikto onto himself. His eyes, looking at Nikto, were empty. In them there was only animal passion. “I've been waiting for you for so long,” he whispered rapidly, frantically pulling off his clothes; every minute of delay seemed to torment him. Nothing interested Arel, how Nikto managed to escape, what happened to him during this time, why did he not come alone, but with Karina, how does he feel?
Nikto squeezed his throat with his hands, and Arel suffocated, already in pre-orgasmic ecstasy.
“Was that what you expected?” Nikto asked.
Arel didn’t answer. Nikto let him go, silently undressing, he tossed aside his jacket, the sleeve of which was hardened with blood. He saw how his Arel was languishing with impatience, and his every touch causes a rush of desire.
