Arnaud looked at him, and then squinted painfully. It felt as if he was looking at the melting sun from a short distance away. His eyes were about to melt from the sight, too. But perhaps it would be worth it. His new master was incredibly, indescribably handsome. You could fall in love with him, even knowing who he was. Only Arnaud didnt have to worry about himself. He could not fear that feeling for the fallen angel would enslave him. It was just that he knew the counterpart a copy of the devil lived in the mortal world. And unless he was wrong, she was going to marry a mortal king.
«She betrayed,» Arnauds own voice seemed foreign and distant. Even the sound of the surf was closer to his throat than those words.
Madael turned toward him, brushed a disobedient strand from his face with his thin fingers. In an instant, more bloody scenes flashed across his eyes than Arnaud had seen in all the nights theyd been together on the battlefields. The angel was marching forward with his sword, leading companies of demons to carnage, while the wretched Harper was crouching behind him, thanking fate that his body was immune to spears and arrows. Otherwise he himself would already be dead and animated by magic to serve the fallen. That was roughly what had happened to him, by the way, but he preferred not to remember much about the ritual. He just remembered that it had hurt. And it was better to forget about the spell cast over the cup after the ritual. Otherwise, the lord would see through his mind and know what was going on. Then there would be no escape for him. Arnaud shuddered, hearing the clear voice of an angel. It cut his ears like the blade of a sword.
«How do you know?»
He felt like a fool. Hes just a lowly follower, and before him is Dennitsa himself. Angel is omniscient. Hes no one to teach him. Still, Arnaud muttered weakly in his defense.
«I feel»
Madaels quiet chuckle was like a peal of thunder. It was the sound of the echo that startled goblins into their dens, the clang of gold as it swept through dragon caves. The angel himself was suddenly in darkness, covered in golden light. This heartbreak Arnaud shrank. He suddenly felt unbearably cold in his masters presence, more than if he had plunged headlong into the icy waves.
«Feelings dont matter,» the angel turned away from him quickly. «Try to forget everything.»
«But I see her,» Arnaud himself did not know why he was pushing, but there was one vision that kept haunting him. Rhianon is walking on a solemn carpet sprinkled with myrtle beneath the nave of the cathedral where kings are crowned. She must not enter it. She is his masters chosen one. She would stain herself and him if she did so. He wanted to shout this to her, as if from this distance she could hear him. Only it seemed to him that he was no longer here, but there, sitting on the crossbar under the nave and watching the ceremony from above. He should shout to her, but his tongue would not obey. There is no more blood in his veins and no more ligaments in his throat to speak. For the young queen, he is mute. Who needs a mute minstrel?
«Do you see her? Do you?» Madael suddenly looked at him intently.
Arnaud nodded uneasily. He did see. She was wearing an ermine robe and a golden crown. Her gown was made by mortal tailors, she was led by the hand of a mortal king. Her path is strewn with lilies, and the lilies begin to bleed. He saw everything so clearly, as if he were right there with her. Even more, he became one with her. It was a consequence of the spell. The side effect might well have been. He had counted on this effect and yet now it came as a shock to him. He had failed to bewitch the demon lover and now he would have to look at the world through her eyes forever. It is not he who has rounded her up, but he himself has become part of her being. There, seated on the throne of the new realm, Rhianon had enslaved him without her knowing it, and here on the rocky, cold shore the angel looked at him with a look of such fury that it made the blood run cold.
Arnaud glanced down at the glittering sword. Even after his recent bat, it still demanded blood. Where the masters hand would guide it now?
«I I cant watch her right now,» he murmured apologetically. «Sometimes I feel like Im dissolving into her. I didnt mean to, but»
He took the precautionary step back, but slipped and almost fell.
«So you did it after all,» Madael said, a split second, and he was pinned against the rock. The swords thin, cold blade brushed against the back of his exposed neck, its collar and tresses seeming to part on their own to make way for the steel. For all its coldness it burned, sending tingling sparks down his spine from neck to vertebrae.
«I could kill you,» Madael whispered, «you are immortal now, but I could destroy you. With a flick of my hand, your head would be separate from your body, burning eternally in one of my cauldrons below, and I would let the crows peck out your eyes. It was they who seduced you when you first saw a worthy womans camp and started chanting charms. You have nothing to offer a woman, only deceptions left. You put a veil over the victims eyes and she starts me in you? All spells work the same way. I begin to shine in someone else and seduce on his behalf. Thats when the process of seduction is irreversible. Only with Rhianon this trick wont work, because she already knows me.»
«I» Arnaud moved to loosen his grip, but the angel gripped him like a vice.
«Shut up,» Madael pressed his head against the rocky surface with one hand, exposing his neck even more. He pressed the blade slightly, letting the dark blood drain down. Blood poisoned by the ritual. It made the stunted grass beneath it rot more, and even the rocky surface grew moldy, its insects with hellish faces swarming over the surface.
«Youre not dead, but youre not alive either, just a creature that has no place in life or death anymore. You wanted to be that. It was better to remain an outcast in both worlds than one who exists forever, who does not live. Its a torment, isnt it, Arnaud, to exist like that? And what if now you have to exist without eyes? Or without the right hand you used to strike at the ritual? Would you be able to play with one left hand or blindly?»
There was no mocking tone in his beautiful, smooth voice. He was terrifyingly calm. Arnaud sobbed and the strings of his harp echoed softly, as if they felt no danger.
Madael loosened his grip and squinted at the instrument. «You know, they say the voices of the celestials are born in the music that comes from the war, and they no longer exist. But I recognize their singing sometimes. If I spare you, it is for your skill, but not for your own.»
«Yes my lord,» he felt his grip loosen, and was relieved to sing a hymn to Satan. My lord, my lord, my sovereign He had so many flattering appellations, and with them all one unchangeable Mastema. But all these meanings coalesced in him.
Arnaud had barely had time to sigh when his strong fingers closed around his wrists, sniping and burning the skin. Thats what the game of cat and mouse was all about. Now he would forever feel pinned against the wall, even when they let him go for a moment.
«Remember,» Madael leaned so low over him that Arnaud could feel his fiery breath. One golden curl snaked down his cheek, Madaels hair was soft, softer than silk, but it almost scratched him now. Not even a cats claws or a hot wire could bring his skin to such irritation. The angels whisper was also fiery.
«Just one step toward Rhianon, and even my troops wouldnt envy your fate. Do you understand?»
«Remember,» Madael leaned so low over him that Arnaud could feel his fiery breath. One golden curl snaked down his cheek, Madaels hair was soft, softer than silk, but it almost scratched him now. Not even a cats claws or a hot wire could bring his skin to such irritation. The angels whisper was also fiery.
«Just one step toward Rhianon, and even my troops wouldnt envy your fate. Do you understand?»
«Yes, my lord.»
Madael released him, but Arnaud could still feel his grip on his wrists. Even in shackles or on the rack he would feel more comfortable. His soul was gloomy, and his harp began to play something cheerful as if out of spite. Arnaud thought that Madael would stop it with one look for disrespecting the sovereign of all the damned and his fury, but he merely stepped aside, not even looking at the twitching strings.
Rhianon tried on the diamond jewelry. Which would go better with the dress?
«It looked like tears»
The voice of the spirit might not have told her that. She saw for herself, so she merely nodded. Her interlocutor, after a moment, was himself disappointedly silent. And it was good. She didnt feel like talking to him today.
She rummaged through the contents of the boxes herself, without the help of her ladies. She had good taste, and the trinkets the court jewelers had made especially for her were not bad either, but today she noticed that the glittering diamonds looked like tears. Were they tears of fairies? Rhianon had heard somewhere that they could turn into diamonds. She couldnt remember exactly. She had only recently begun to think that Madaels tears should not be transparent, but bloody. And his spilled blood could only turn into a ruby.
«Then you must have hundreds of shards of rubies inside you by now,» the spirit gently reminded me.
«Thats not what I meant» Why should she have to justify her own thoughts to him? Yes, she remembered the taste of angels blood on her lips and the incredible sensation of warmth and power flooding her body afterward. It was even more pleasurable than love. A drop of his blood Rhianon tried not to think about the way she touched the ground and turned into rubies. Madael is invulnerable, after all. He could not be killed or hurt. And he is immortal.
«Perhaps I will die, and he will still kill his enemies on the battlefield and if only his own enemies, not the enemies of the Almighty»
«Dont go into mourning. Not yet. We have a wedding to celebrate before then,» the spirit reminded her. «Then it will be the coronation.»
She nodded again, indifferently. There was a knock at the door. She must go now.
«Couldnt you» she turned to the spirit, and then stopped short. No, she wouldnt do that. No, she wouldnt send anyone to him now, notify him of her intentions. Otherwise he would come here and ruin everything. She wont have Loretta or Vinor or hope for the future. She didnt want that.
«If it werent for God,» shed thought of it so often. «He could avenge for her, return her Loretta and never lost her himself.»
«If there was a god, there would be a devil,» the spirit finished for her. «And if there were no devil, the world would be just. Youre dreaming for nothing, child, the world was already created that way.»
«You see everything in black,» she teased him.
«I can see deeper than mortals like you can,» he said nonchalantly.
He had a point, and yet Rhianon protested:
«Im not like other mortals anymore.»
«Youre better off if no one else knows about it but me. People dont like those who are too different from them. Remember, one false step and your recent success in the throne room could backfire on you. If the queen ends up causing displeasure, she too may be burned as a witch. The occasion is already there. Everyone remembers how death worshipped you. Do you think she fell in love with you?»
He, not she,» corrected Rhianon sharply.
«It is he, not she,» corrected Rhianon sharply.
«What difference does it make? It has not made any difference to you.»
«And you have been watching me the whole time, how could you have known?»
«You look like an angel, my dear, and angels are sexless.» He easily found excuses and turned everything into sophistry. «Thats why its easier for angels to choose their lovers. Nothing matters to them but a beauty like yours.»
Someone touched her cheek lightly. Rhianon felt the touch, though she did not see the speaker. It was exciting and unsettling at the same time. He seemed to be leaning over her right now. And there was already a knock at the door.
«Come, theyre waiting for you,» he announced, as if she didnt know it yet.
Rhianon took one last look in the mirror. She was too pale. The white gown embroidered with pearls and the white myrtle in her hair accentuated the deadly whiteness of her skin. And her golden eyebrows and eyelashes look like painted ones against her. Is this what an angel should look like? More like a marble statue. Rhianon reached for the jars of blush, but someone seemed to have intercepted her spirit. She had barely touched it, and the blush had scattered all over the lace tablecloths in a sea of glitter.
«And yet youre perfect,» the same spirit whispered in her ear. «The world has never seen a prettier queen. I mean both your world and ours. Dont take a harpy with you to the ceremony, shell ruin it.»
«Ill do as I please,» she was suddenly angry.
«Of course, darling,» he answered in a venomous tone, and yet the touch on her fingers was immediately insensible. So he let go of her hand. Rhianon fixed the curls in her forehead. Combined with the white flowers, they looked like pure gold. Indeed, she was beautiful. The whole town would notice it tonight.
She just didnt want the pesky spirit to distract her from the ceremony. She already felt awkward enough before the wedding and coronation. She would be entering the Temple. The thought of it made her sick to her stomach. She felt as if she was betraying someone by entering a consecrated place. Here we go, she was already afraid to even call him by his name. What if he flew in? And then what would happen? He will crush Vinor faster than the epidemic, or just throw accusations in the face of the newfound queen. She is a traitor. And she knows it herself. He can show up here and call her that in front of everyone. Without his cloak he is but an angel with wings, no one can see the devils grief in his eyes. And who would be right, he or she?
Rhianon bit her lips nervously. How easily he could have ruined her. Even without sorcery, he could ruin her plans with his mere appearance. If he was jealous of her, he would do so. And if he loved her, he wouldnt. She had little faith in love. Far more important is desire, especially for the devil. Once satisfied, he can forget forever. Besides, if there is no beautiful body, there is no love. She herself could not fall in love with one of the burnt monsters in his army. So what if they used to be the most beautiful angels, but now they are disgusting. Neither would Ferdinand have offered her to be his queen had he not found her the most beautiful girl in the world. Now of course she could have tinted her face with talcum powder and rouge and lined her lips with carmine, but she decided to leave it as it was. The angelic pallor suited her better.
She had already had an elegant wreath made of gold, adorned with large pearls and sapphires. The cooler shades suited her very well. In the past she would have been glad of ice-colored stones and white brocade woven with flowers, but now she longed for something scarlet. What a pity her new crown lacked rubies.