Natalie Yacobson "Rhianon-9. The Birth of the Dragon"

Rhianon is a queen, but her age is short. Hildegard decided to take care of it. She tried not to miss a single detail, even the most insignificant. Pheba’s efforts alone did not seem enough to her. She could have done something herself. If only Rhianon would accept gifts from her. How easy it would have been to slip her poison and spell-soaked things. Such jewelry would have killed her faster than any knife. Yet Hildegard also hoped for a conspirators’ knife. As a last resort, it was not a sin to rely on them either. Just as long as, after the death of one queen, they decided to support a new one. There seemed to be no other candidate but Hildegard. She could be confident in her powers and still she had doubts. Lately she had felt like she was on pins and needles. Her skin prickled and her eyes stung, as if she’d seen the fallen angel firsthand. Until now she had only noticed the ugly burnt limbs that sometimes peeped out of the grave earth, heard the moans and rustling of wings at the bottom of the well, noticed the inhuman footprints beside the tree of the hanged man. The supernatural was very close and yet she never really came into contact with it until she saw Rhianon return and realized how much she had changed. It was as if she were no longer human at all. There was an unearthly grandeur about her. Had she been in the arms of a fallen angel and become an angel herself? But Rhianon has no wings. She must still be mortal.

Rhianon will die. There will be no more ofВ her seductive lips, no more ofВ her expressive calm eyes, no more ofВ her slender frame that you want toВ embrace. There will be no more temptation. Rhianon is an irresistible temptation, for men and women alike. Yet she herself is neither aВ woman nor an angel, but something indescribable. She is above everything. Such aВ being should be removed from the world as aВ filth, so that it would not seduce anyone else.

Hildegard smiled at the sight ofВ the toads on her table. They sat next toВ empty vials ofВ witch ointment. This substance attracted them and helped the black flowers bloom right on the tabletop. Everything gloomy is so beautiful. Black is the best color inВ the world. Why the need for aВ gamut ofВ other hues when there is blackness. Now Hildegard despised herself for succumbing toВ aВ momentary impulse and trying on something purple. Only black suited her. And it was her favorite color, afterВ all.

The color ofВ the grave is also black, but the creature came from the cemetery was white and winged. Hildegard was already nauseated at the thought ofВ being close toВ it. Why? After all, she has Velicia. Even though angels have female faces, women themselves are still more beautiful and seductive. ToВ be with them is far more pleasant than with aВ cold piece ofВ marble. And killing them was just as pleasant. She loved the feel ofВ their warm blood on her neck, not the thick sludge that flowed from the corpse ofВ her last lover.

She would not make the same mistake again. Nor would she feel pity for Rhianon. She paid Pheba in gold to make the spell particularly thorough. Rhianon would lose all her beauty and rot alive if she did it the right way, and she would beg for death. And in the end she will die. That’s it, no more angel. There’s no need for one on earth. Loretta is for mortals. This is no place for winged creatures.

Hildegard almost changed her mind when she noticed someone’s reflection in the mirror. The winged young man seemed incredibly beautiful to her. His face bore some resemblance to Rhianon’s, but his eyes… how evil they were. It was as if he was burning her through with his eyes. The vision lasted only a moment, but the sensation of an incredibly strong hand gripping her hair and nearly ripping her braids out remained.

Hildegarde grimaced inВ pain. The headdress seemed toВ be inВ place. The braids were not torn out either. And no one was reflected inВ the mirror but herself. Her outfit today was exquisite. Her favorite black color is set off byВ aВ smoky, somber veil. Dark amethysts adorn the corset and hemline. And her hair is like darkness itself. Except that inВ her mind, inВ her brain, just beneath her skull, aВ bright fire seemed toВ blaze.

Hildegard cried out inВ fright at the sight ofВ the worms on the table, and she did not understand why she was so frightened. After all, she was not afraid ofВ the sight ofВ toads and rats prying into her elixirs. And nausea never felt. On the contrary, she was attracted toВ disgusting things. So why was she suddenly disgusted byВ worms?

«Worms,» the angel’s voice echoed in her mind, not from the mirror. «I’ll crush you like a worm before you can touch Rhianon.»

She didn’t believe him. So what if there are so many worms. They were crawling in exactly the places where something edible had lain recently: sweets, grapes, or figs. The food must have gone bad. So they crawled.

Hildegard didn’t want to imagine herself as one of those worms, but the idea was coming to mind. She even had to grab onto the first support she could find to keep from falling. Her legs did not hold her. She felt as if her body were becoming as flat and streamlined as a limbless worm’s.

«This is stupid,» she covered her mouth immediately, realizing that she was talking to herself. But it really was stupid. Who could have put such thoughts into her head? As she emerged from her tower, she realized that she could hardly make it to the Feast Hall on her own. She couldn’t be bothered to keep a thin cobweb of charms on the door.

The crown of Loretta rested on Rhianon’s head, she was given the main seat at the table, everyone listened to her, from the first minister to the latest minstrel, called to the court only for the evening. And yet here she felt like a statue or a ghost. That was how a visitor from another world felt, not understood or even noticed by people. That was probably how Madael felt, everything was in his hands, people’s lives, their souls, their destinies, they depended on him, but they did not notice him. Only he didn’t feel superfluous, and she did.

Madael was used to being worshipped, it was new to her. Rhianon watched the stunts of the acrobats, the mimes and actors, the jugglers tossing balls or burning torches. She did not mean to ignite anything, but one of the torches she had been watching for a particularly long time burst into flames so that it scorched the juggler’s hands. It must have been the first time that had happened to him. He stared so dumbfounded at his burned palms. Then they took him away. Rhianon watched it all with frightening indifference. It was as if the world did not exist in front of her. The action unfolded in a haze. The songs of the troubadours and bards sounded as if they were from afar. That must be what it feels like to be enchanted by elves. The world simply ceases to exist for him because his consciousness remains a prisoner of magical creatures.

Is she really aВ prisoner ofВ Madael? Rhianon was not at all happy about the thought. She woke up and tried toВ come toВ her senses. She must cast off her spell like aВ bad dream. She shook her head persistently, but the only thing she could shake off was her wreath.

More and more dishes were brought from the kitchen. The guests ate and drank. Servants served them wine. Rhianon caught herself that the smell of meat and roast meat did not appeal to her at all. She wondered if she saw it raw… She’d have to hunt for it. The baby inside her must need food. It wouldn’t be likely to accept what normal people eat. Rhianon tried not to think about pouncing on anyone present. Does the court know about cannibals? Fallen angels also eat the flesh of fallen warriors and drink human blood, but it is as peculiar to them as it is to leeches. A queen who thirsts for the blood of her subjects would be treated differently by everyone than she would by the myths of the devil. Now she wished she could go out into the battlefield and kill only to tear the flesh and veins of her enemies afterward. She longed for blood, but the table poured only other drinks.

Sparkling wine trickled into the goblet. Something was wrong. The very color of the wine repulsed her, as if it were strewn with black ash. She didn’t immediately notice the small creature hiding in the shadows of the nearest dish. It only nimbly ran up to her fingers as she reached for the stem of the filled goblet.

Rhianon recognized the leprechaun. Strange how his mottled, red-colored robes didn’t stand out against the gold and silverware.

«Do not drink! Don’t drink!» He was mostly gesticulating, giving her conventional signs to let her know what he wanted to tell her.

Rhianon was sure no one could hear his little voice. ToВ her, it had sounded like the squeak ofВ aВ mosquito, and now she was probably the only one who could hear and understand faerie language, just as only Madael had been able toВ understand the language ofВ birds and beasts beforeВ her.

Of course, there was poison in the glass. How she herself had not guessed before. What a profitable and deft move, to pretend to be hospitable so that during the feast the object causing so much strife – hers – could be discreetly removed. Just one goblet of wine and the new queen was gone. Rhianon almost sympathized with their foolishness. How they had miscalculated. And how naive they must be to easily believe that one who could ignite an entire city with her power could be too sensitive to a knife or poison?. This is all nonsense. There are no more weapons for her to fear. They still can’t believe it. She looked around the gathering disparagingly, from beneath half-lidded lashes, lingering intently on each face and reading their innermost thoughts with ease. Who had made the effort this time? And who were his accomplices? With her newfound ability to find out the tiniest details was so easy. It was just child’s play, not a difficult conspiracy investigation.

While the feast was going on, she couldn’t even think about it. She would deal with everything later.

The table was overflowing with delicacies, and though she wasn’t hungry at all, she had to hand it to the castle’s chefs. Stuffed geese, ducks, slices of flavorful lamb with pieces of pineapple and olives, all on engraved dishes, and each dish was a work of culinary art. Hildegard, however, wrinkled her nose unhappily. Her dark onyx eyes ran restlessly over the table as if she were spotting rats on the tablecloth. Rhianon, too, examined the utensils, the wine decanters and dessert vases, as properly as she could. No, the leprechaun had only hidden near her wineglass, and that was not to steal another piece from her plate, but only to warn her that the wine was poisoned. He might not have known that the poison had no effect on her henceforth, or he might have simply decided to take precautions. No matter. The fact is, the conscientious servant had done his duty of guarding his mistress, and he was so dexterous that it was impossible to see him.

Hildegard! Rhianon met her black as the darkness itself for aВ moment, and somehow noticed the fear inВ her hitherto perpetually impenetrable eyes. Then she turned her gaze toВ the table and almost cringed inВ disgust herself. Worms! Where once there had been the aromatic smell ofВ fried chicken and smoky punch, now there were disgusting gooey lumps ofВ worms crawling all over the place. They were inВ balls, inВ glasses, inВ pike-perch where the fish lay, ghastly as the entrails that had fallen out ofВ their ripped bellies. Rhianon had seen something like this on the battlefield, too, when she dissected her enemies with her sword. The guts spilling from open bellies smelled just as foul and disgusting, but surprisingly she could smell no earth or worms. There was still the sweet smell ofВ honey and cream and candied cherries inВ the punch, but only disgusting worms crawled across the table. The guests continued toВ eat and enjoy themselves as if they were oblivious ofВ the change. Their laughter sounded distant, ghastly and slightly muffled, like the swarming worms. Rhianon saw mouths full ofВ nastiness, spoons with stalks braided with the slimy body ofВ aВ worm. She was about toВ close her eyes and whisper aВ few magic words toВ banish the vision, but then suddenly it dissipated on itsВ own.

It happened at the very moment when Hildegard jumped up from the table and rushed away. Before that she pushed back her chair so sharply that everyone present stared after her inВ surprise, and the footmen hurriedly picked up the dishes and food, which she had dropped on the floor.

В«It was nice toВ look at the world through her eyes,В» the black burnt hand with excessively elongated fingers habitually not visible toВ everyone else lay on the naked shoulder ofВ Rhianon and gently squeezed. В«He can make you see the world inВ the same grim tones. And he is already angry with you.В»

Leprechaun hid himself in the shadow of the glass. Rhianon tried to pretend not to notice the black creature that leaned toward her ear as everyone else does, but here it was, clawed fingers charred to the color of coal rubbing her long sapphire earring and seemingly capable of leaving a black indelible mark on her skin. But he touched neither her neck nor her cheek, though his claws slid close to hers. That’s right, they were probably forbidden to touch Dennitsa’s face, or rather his perfect replica, now. Funny, contrary to all their expectations, instead of burning it, Madael set a guard around it, as if it were not a replica of his face, but a rare work of art. He loves his twin, though he should have hated it.

«Would you like me to help you regain his favor…»

And those words again. It’s as if they had sounded before, meaningless and hypocritical.

«You don’t have it, I do,» Rhianon said.

For a moment it seemed as if the black claws wanted to claw at her shoulder with rage, and they couldn’t. Asmodeus gave up and stood gracefully behind the back of her chair, but at some distance. His silhouette in the darkness few could make out, but he noticed Rhianon’s gaze sliding over the conspirators. She moved her eyes from one face to the other.

В«They are doomed!В»

The voice was no longer inВ her mind; it was Asmodeus who spoke.

«You don’t have to punish them yourself,» he explained. – So abstain from judgment and executioner, or fire, whichever you choose. Their punishment will come to them.»

В«Is it destiny?В» She inquired with aВ touch ofВ sarcasm.

В«It is inВ my face, my dear,В» he echoed. She seemed for aВ moment toВ hear his dry, rustling laughter behindВ her.

В«Why is it yours? Since when have you been on the side ofВ mercy?В»

He was silent for a second. She didn’t even think she’d get an answer.

«I only come for the price,» Asmodeus said at last. «It is as death with a scythe comes to take someone’s life.»

Rhianon grimaced, remembering the gray angel. She wondered why he had come to Loretta? Whose lives did he want to take in this city? Hermione, Angus, Darius, Clotter, Roderick, Hildegard… She moved her eyes from one face to the next, and saw no sign of joyful superiority in them. They all seemed to be mortified about something.

«They made a pact with the Devil, not you,» Rhianon reminded her, though it was probably unnecessary. He ought to know. «You’re not his reaper, taking the souls he’s been promised, are you?»

«I’m just his servant.» The black silhouette leaned over her shoulder again. It reeked of soot and ash and a pervasive sense of wonderfully dark emptiness. «But that was only for the time being.»

Rhianon didn’t even have time to call out to him before he disappeared. Once again she was alone with the revelers and the conspirators among them. There was no longer any sign of the supernatural in the hall, except for the leprechaun who had come out of hiding. He didn’t look happy. Rhianon could understand his tiny thoughts, though his head was no bigger than a pea, and his thoughts were open to her. He regretted very much that the queen was left alone at court as in an enemy camp. She has no right even to touch the condemned. And by the time the devil had carried out his own sentence, those scoundrels might have finished off his mistress.

«Well, I’ll have to defend myself as best I can,» Rianon decided to herself. «And wait for the fatal hour.»

Apparently, the conspirators themselves were already waiting. Rhianon did not know what their deadline was, but she could see that it was coming toВ an end. They knew it, they were afraid.

«You are doomed!» She said it out loud, and though the word was spoken in a whisper, Darius, who was sitting beside her, heard it and shuddered with all his body. What a hunted look he gave Rianon, and she smiled, insidiously and triumphantly. It was her turn to celebrate. And then she put the goblet to her lips…

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