Rhianon had no need to ask anyone about the news; she could hear everything. All she had to do was point out the right people in the room, and even when she turned away from them, she could easily pick up their dialogues. The distance of a hundred paces meant nothing to her. Sounds reached her ears easily, and it was easy to distinguish something in the cacophony.
That was how she knew what time the stranger named death had scheduled his visit. The hands of the large clock over the casement door were just now approaching that hour. The doors themselves were open. Guards with halberds stood in front of them, but even they tried to keep somehow unaccustomed to the side of the aisle. They used to stand closer together. Now it was as if the miasma of contagion had spread everywhere. Rhianon wondered if the ladies were fanning themselves in vain, trying to ward off the contagion. If it is there, it is already everywhere. Every well in the city that we have to draw drinking water from is contaminated. Even if the disease cant get into the royal palace itself, it will be brought in with the food and drink. They say disease is the destiny of the poor, but if the city below dies out, there is no refuge from death in the castle on high ground either. It will come in time.
If the words of the angel are to be believed, then he chose to come now, not later. Rhianon waited with everyone else. Could it be that her demand had proved so important to him? She herself had not expected him to listen to her when she suggested it. So he had decided to change his plans after all. She wondered if it was for her or for something else.
Her heart began to beat a nervous beat. She wished the tension in the hall would subside. But no, there was only increased murmuring among the assembled crowd. Even the kings presence did not seem to bother anyone. And Ferdinand himself was clearly not himself today. Was he worried, too? Rhianon looked up and noticed the beads of sweat on his forehead. He hadnt taken his eyes off the open doors. Apparently todays news was the first shattering of his life. There had never been a war, much less an epidemic, in his reign. And now a stranger called death, either a ghost or a powerful sorcerer, has decided to show up at the palace. What will he demand?
«Surely your soothsayers must have foretold that I am the cause of this epidemic?»
Ferdinand looked at her in confusion. Rhianon couldnt quite put his finger on why he was so surprised. She asked the question without opening her mouth. She was too accustomed to making small talk with a spirit to think that it would be strange to do the same with a human. She was already feverishly considering how to justify herself, when suddenly the impossible happened. She heard footsteps behind the swinging door, but there was still no one in the doorway. Rhianon glanced around the room and was surprised to find that none of the motley crowd was wearing the garb of a astrologer.
«He told not to allow any of them in tonight,» said Ferdinand to her unspoken question.
«In that case I am grateful to him,» she answered in a low whisper. «I do not like sorcerers, trying to use the dark power.»
«And who loves them?» Ferdinand said.
«Then why do you tolerate them at court?» She asked. «Are you afraid of them?»
He shook his head negatively.
«I am afraid that one day I may need their help.»
«But they are powerless today.»
Rhianon was convinced she was right when she saw him enter the hall. He looked even more terrifying in the bright light than he had at night in the dark alley. He had seemed merely sinister to her then; now she might have choked with fear. Other ladies had already fainted at the sight of him, and in far greater numbers than before. Seeing him was far more frightening than hearing of him. Here and there frightened shrieks were heard, and men grasped useless weapons. Mortal hands rested on the hilted hilt and hilted sword, and he walked through the hall, immortal, but bearing death. Invulnerable to mere weapons or disease, but covered with sores himself. Even his handsome features looked frightening against such a backdrop. Rhianon would not have been surprised if people were not just dying at his touch, but decomposing alive. She followed his every movement with her eyes. He walked so smoothly, as if he were floating above the marble floor. A gray coat was developing around his body, but the angels grace made the rough canvas look better than the most expensive garment. He would wear the badge of shame with majesty, too. He was so graceful, so beautiful and so powerful.
«And I am the bringer of death,» he added with one lip as he approached the throne. He glanced at Rhianon, and his face suddenly turned into a smile that was predatory, full of meaning and seductive at the same time. Had he dreamed of seducing her or to kill her? She looked at him closely, and no one else around her noticed. The frightened people in the hall seemed to have vanished. Rhianon sat upright on her throne. The golden armrests slid beneath her fingers. If it hadnt been for a spirit behind her, clutching at her shoulders, she would have run toward him.
«Stop, youll ruin yourself!» He whispered fervently, nestling into her very ear. His hot breath burned her lobe. Do spirits have breath? Or does he feed on her energy and soon burst into flames himself? What difference did it make to her? Shed rather he left her alone. All Rhianon saw before her was the angel of death. Even if he wore a gray turban and didnt even want to show his wings to others, or maybe he just couldnt, even if his tender moon-shimmering skin was pierced with deep sores, even if he carried death and destruction. She no longer cares. After all, he looked so much like her Madael. She looked at him and wanted to see another. Obviously, the angel noticed this, and the smile slowly came off his lips. It was as if she saw a shooting star, and the angels features became calm. There was no more of the lovers teasing smile, only a stern look from under his pitted eyelids, and worms crawling across her tightly closed lips. Words were expected of him, but he said nothing. He only looked at Rhianon, so intently and attentively that the eyes of everyone gathered also turned involuntarily to her.
Ferdinand was the first to pull together. No one had any doubts about who the terrible guest was. But the king had the courage to affirm the obvious.
«Then you are death.»
He didnt even nod. Moreover, he had no reason to turn on the speaker. Rhianon thought for a moment that his pale lips were curled back into a sneer.
A low, weighty sound echoed through the hall:
«Yes, I am.»
But no one saw the angel speak. How unshakeable he is, after all. Like a statue! Rhianon kept her eyes fixed on him. Sores had built up around his whites under his eyelids, but inside his pupils she could see two slivers of azure sky. True, it was slightly tinged with grayness.
«Do you love me?» She asked mentally. «Would you be willing to stand under my banner?»
She knew she was shocking him and herself with her impertinence. If he became angry, the consequences would be unpredictable. He could do what he wanted to the city, and to her. And it didnt matter that she wasnt quite mortal anymore. He could think of something to punish her for such liberties. She thought herself superior to Dennitsa, superior to his former commander, his brother-in-arms and his idol.
«Do you love me more than him?»
So the unspoken words hung over the hall like a golden cloud. The angels face was impenetrable. Rhianon was already preparing for the worst, when suddenly the words came to her, addressed this time to everyone.
«Do you love me?» She asked mentally. «Would you be willing to stand under my banner?»
She knew she was shocking him and herself with her impertinence. If he became angry, the consequences would be unpredictable. He could do what he wanted to the city, and to her. And it didnt matter that she wasnt quite mortal anymore. He could think of something to punish her for such liberties. She thought herself superior to Dennitsa, superior to his former commander, his brother-in-arms and his idol.
«Do you love me more than him?»
So the unspoken words hung over the hall like a golden cloud. The angels face was impenetrable. Rhianon was already preparing for the worst, when suddenly the words came to her, addressed this time to everyone.
«I wont touch this city again.»
«Because of you,» she was the only one to hear.
Rhianon sighed, expecting to fill her lungs with the black miasma of sickness, but the air was fresh. She noticed the admiration that flashed in his eyes for a moment. The golden curls streaming from beneath his gray hood seemed almost white. His eyebrows and eyelashes were silver in the bright daylight, and he himself would have seemed almost translucent had it not been for the ulcers in his shimmering skin. For one more moment he looked at her. Just a moment, but sometimes one look meant more than a physical connection. If they had been in the same bed together, she would not have felt closer to him than she did now. He truly admired her, far more than an ordinary mortal queen, even more than the one who had once long ago led him into that first heavenly battle.
Rhianon wanted to say something, or at least address him mentally with words of appreciation, but her lips would not listen. Consciousness, too, seemed for a moment to be shackled. But the angel was in control of himself. He knew he had to go. There was a moment of perfect understanding between them, and then he suddenly put his ulcerous hand to his chest, to the very place where peoples hearts beat. But he had no heart, only a lump of worms, not muscle. Rhianon shuddered at the thought of what his chest might be filled with. What did he want to show her with it? Could he feel toward her what Madael felt? The lepers hand froze motionless at her heart, and then the angel slowly bowed to her. It was to her, not to the king. Rhianon clutched at the armrests of the throne. She watched as the majestic gray figure bowed before her, the bumps of hidden wings curving on his back, the silky curls sliding downward peeking out from beneath the hood. How angels are like girls after all, for all their masculinity. Rhianon was captivated by the combination. Everyone in the room shuddered with fear, while she watched with admiration how beautifully the long angelic lashes curved over the festering skin, how proportionate and regular the firm lines of the lips, how exquisitely the long girlish strands slid over the flat mans chest. He is an angel, as is Madael, beyond a doubt. He would be as handsome as Madael if it were not for his imperfections. Na could have been with him, as she was with Madeel, if it had been safe. But she was a little afraid of his sores and despised herself for her fear. She must have caught her slight squeamishness, so he hurried away. His bow, however, will long be remembered by all.
His footsteps were still in the darkened doorway, and there was already an astonished and enthusiastic whisper in the hall.
«It was death itself death bowed to the queen.»
Rhianon listened to this in half an ear. It wasnt that she wasnt interested in what was being said, but she was much more fascinated by other things. She wanted to catch the faint sound of his wings and the unimportant words in the distance:
«If you need me, just call.»
Would he keep his promise? Grave worms crawled across the floor where he stood. They died before they could crawl an inch or two, and if hed wanted them to, they would have crawled into every inch of the throne room. Rhianon waited in vain for another sign from him, another confirmation of his promise. Instead, the spirits unsolicited words came to mind: dear, not all men give up their vows so easily. Yes, not all men do. She looked reluctantly at Ferdinand. The gossip that death had bowed to the queen was no longer too preoccupying. She was glad to hear that she was already being called queen.
«So you must be queen after all,» the spirit whispered playfully behind her back. Rhianon ignored his remark and smiled smugly. Perhaps someday she would be able to control him as well, but for now it was time to think about the great things. Was Vinor really better than Loretta? Could she replace one with the other? Queen of Vinor! However, one kingdom is not enough. It would be much more convenient to become queen of Vinor and have Loretta for that as well. She was quite willing to do that.
Queen of Vinor
«I sense something is not right,» Arnaud looked out to sea. He could hear the voices of the faeries in the sound of the surf. They merged with the melody of his harp and almost overlapped it. But the strings still twitched softly, as if they were the strings of his soul. He no longer had a soul, only a body. And that was almost immortal.
He glanced at Madael, leaning indifferently on his sword. The Angel stared blankly at the bloodied blade, and it was unclear which was more coldly glistening, the polished steel, or his blue eyes. Not long ago they had been blue. At the sight of them, Arnaud sighed involuntarily. His master was changing. And it was not for the better.
«He has become even more soulless than then in the war in heaven,» his conscience whispered to him, as well as his soul deeply buried between the harp strings, but Arnaud brushed the intrusive voices aside. He had long ago grown accustomed to ignore them.
The lords eyes, after all, are even more suited to the cold color of steel than the blue of the sky. The blade of his sword, by the way, quickly absorbed the blood hed spilled and turned as blue as his eyes. Hed spilled a lot of blood today, but the sword needed more. It was forged that way. His blade was eternally hungry for blood, for bloodshed. An ocean of blood could be spilled, and it would not rest. As long as there was a shred of flesh on earth, it would seek it out to slay it. The devils weapon is indestructible, and only his strong arm can restrain such a sword. Madael, playing with it, handled it, and another angel would not have been able to. And after that, isnt he the strongest. Arnaud looked almost with admiration at the winged figure in the purple cloak. For a moment he even forgot that his master was also his rival. Only he didnt know it himself. He has no idea. Hes too self-assured to see that some insignificant insect has a claim on his property.
Except now someone else was claiming it. Arnaud bit his lips bloody in excitement. He could feel it. And he was panicking. It was as if his heart was being ripped out of him, though there was none left in his chest. The trickle of blood running down his lips suddenly became a living worm, which he swept away and crushed.
Though the harp strings were almost silenced, his conscience still pricked him. He should have been grateful to fate. The lowly degenerate had become a servant of the highest lord there could be. He enjoyed serving Madael. Of course, over the days and especially the nights, he had seen many disgusting scenes. Wars, massacres, attacks, the dismemberment of corpses, and the bloody feasts that followed It would have turned the stomach of a mortal being inside out by now. But Arnaud felt nothing but stony emptiness inside his body. Perhaps there was nothing left inside him. The ritual he had performed was intended to do just that. Only this time the consequences were unexpected. He was changing, but not the way he should have. The change in him would have startled everyone but Madael. He was, as always, terrifyingly calm and completely unconcerned. He had nothing to be sorry about. He had already lost everything.