«What do you make to think it was you?»
«Why else would you look up at the starry sky?» He leaned forward, and Rhianon recoiled in horror. Despite all his beauty, he suddenly frightened her. She would have kept on retreating, had she not stumbled upon the parapet. She could have gone no farther; there was only the moat below, if she was lucky, and the sharp rocks if she had fallen a little to her left. Fall into the water after Hildegards ornament, and the underwater creatures might still pull her out, much worse would be crashing. It is a pity she still has no wings. And he had promised. She looked at Madael with challenge. Now she knew who killed all the sentries in the towers. And why was it? What did he want from her today? Did he want to fight? She had no sword with her.
She recoiled from the hand that reached out to stroke her cheek.
«Do I disgust you?» He spoke calmly, thoughtfully, unable to tell if there was a firestorm raging inside him, or if all the old wounds had been healed by the ice.
She turned her attention to the spikes almost wounding his forehead. He was in no pain, and the flowers on top of the thorny crown were so beautiful. They set off his beauty perfectly. Rhianon involuntarily reached for them with her hand. She clearly imagined the picture Madael, about to go into battle, wearing a wreath of roses over his golden curls instead of his helmet. He has a helmet with which he is obliged to cover his inhuman appearance in battle, as well as his wings. For his help he would be offered the crown of any country. Humans can only dream of such a thing, but to him worldly values mean nothing. He would give it all up for Rhianon. He must be to her what he once delighted her to be, so he would go into battle with his head uncovered, with a wreath of roses in his golden curls. No mortal would dare do such a thing, for he too could so easily be blown off his head in battle if he crossed reasonable boundaries, but he didnt care anymore, for her sake he must be bold and reckless. Is it possible to think that roses are protective? Perhaps it was only a legend, but now he himself was the legend of eternity.
He followed the movement of her hand and did not recoil when the flaming fingers touched him. She could smell the faint scent of roses, and heard his voice as if it had come from afar.
«They were said to ward off more wounds than any shield, and he who wears them is invulnerable, but I have been invulnerable since before the rose with thorns appeared.»
«How do you believe yourself?» She ventured to ask.
«I have always believed that the rose is the girl you love. It is one look at her before you even touch her, and you are too hurt.»
«My name is not rose.»
«But you hurt me before I even knew your name, before you even noticed me.»
His voice was calm, but it conveyed a brutal truth. Rhianon didnt even have time to sob when strong arms tightened around her waist. It was frightening to even imagine how powerful they were. He could have crushed her with a single thrust, crushing her flesh like chunks of marble statue. Instead, he jerked her off the ground and set her on the parapet.
The height! Rhianon nearly suffocated. The teeth of the parapet beneath her feet were wet with rain and slippery. If Madael hadnt continued to hold her, she would have fallen, but he didnt loosen his embrace. His palms slid smoothly around her waist.
The long-standing fear of heights came back to life, but it was different. Maybe it was because someone elses wings were fluttering behind her back. They were Madaels wings. It was as if they were her own. His wings were for the two of them. As long as he was with her, she would not fall.
The heights were so dizzying. Someone elses voices might have beckoned her from heaven and from the abyss, but she was with Madael. What would happen if he left her?
What would he want to do? He set her on the parapet of the roof. Is this not a dream?
«Are you tired of living?» His fingers lightly touched her cheek. How like the touch of a moths wings. «Everyone who sees me and cant forget me eventually finds their way down,» he nodded at the sharp rocks. «Do you seek your death in battle? Or do you wish to fall prey to court intrigue?»
«Guard me from them if you wish,» she allowed graciously.
«Am I your enemy?»
Strangely, she wanted to fight him, and yet she did not consider him her enemy.
«Are you drawn to the abyss? Do you want to kill yourself? Do you want to fly down the parapet?»
She hesitated. No, she was not being pulled down. Perhaps he thought otherwise. He was used to the fact that once you see it, you cant go on living.
«You wont jump without me, because I am your wings,» Madael whispered to her.
Then he let her go. Rhianon didnt even have time to see that they had switched places. She was now standing near the parapet, and Madael was hovering beside her. He himself was not afraid of heights. The golden-haired figure with wings, suspended in the air, was both strikingly beautiful and somewhat frightening at the same time.
The angel tilted his head slightly to touch her lips with his lips. The kiss was quick but sweet, just like touching the petals of a rose.
«Love me and I will give you wings.»
He had said those words before. Rhianon recoiled. They were empty words, beautiful though they were.
Madael grinned, noticing the change in her mood.
«Still want to fight me?»
She didnt have to answer that question. She could have spared her the trouble of answering that question. A moments pause to make up had been and gone. Madael gently flapped his wings.
«There are no more sentries on the towers,» Rhianon reminded him sarcastically. «You have no one left to kill.»
He grinned, dismissive and arrogant.
«Ill always find someone,» he said menacingly.
Rhianon couldnt even believe that he had flown away. Her first impulse was to go back to the bedroom and find the sword hidden there. So she did. With it in her hands she no longer felt weak and defenseless. It was a pity she couldnt wear it at her side all the time. For that she would have had to give up her dress and flaunt it in mens clothing. Of course, shes the only lord here and any of her antics should be turned a blind eye by those around her.
Orpheus was pleased to tell her that Ferdinand had returned to Vinor with the rest of his troops and was waiting there to hear from Rhianon.
«I pretended to be a messenger and took him a letter from you and a couple of pretty gifts. He believes he must stay away from you for the time being for your own safety. He no longer claims to share the throne of Loretta with you,» Orpheus explained. «Well, Ive managed to convince him. Well, I also cut a lock from your head while you were asleep and took it to him. It was necessary. And something else needs to be done to keep him from forgetting you while youre away and choosing a minion, needing blood, his and yours, and some memorabilia.»
«Leave him alone,» Rhianon slid her fingers over the hilt of her sword. The dwarves had done their best for her. The blade gleamed in the candlelight as soon as the scabbard was removed. It thirsted for blood and was already vibrating quietly. Only now could Rhianon hold it for any length of time. Her hand grew stronger. The vibration of the blade was felt in her palm no more than the beat of her pulse. It should be. If Madael didnt know how to control his powers exactly the same way, they would crush the world.
Rhianon caught herself thinking that she wanted to be like him in everything. Even if the next time he showed up at her window not with romantic confessions, but with threats of war and reprisals, she would still try to copy him in everything.
«Ferdinand deserves amusement,» she told Orpheus. «He must have someone to keep him from going mad. I will only encourage him to choose.»
«He has to want it himself,» Orpheus muttered, almost resentfully.
«And if he doesnt want it, whats the point of the spell?»
«It is just in case. I want to take care of longevity of his feelings. Hes not an angel or even a spirit, and people are so fickle.»
«Not everyone,» she thought of Ron, rotting in a deep grave, where his remains must have been devoured by something buried there with him, or nurtured by the earth after hed fallen. There are always demons living in treasures, and it is the same in graves. If this young man had not turned out to be fanatically devoted to her, he would still be alive.
«Still, it wouldnt hurt to secure our place in Vinor,» Orpheus snorted. «I could remove the heirs.»
«Dont you dare!» Rhianon was distracted when she heard a low shriek. The sound had come from Hildegards chambers. It was easy for her to tell. For some reason she felt a strong urge to go and check what was going on there.
Her chamber was just below, in one of the towers. Rhianon had to go down there. A door opened and she beckoned. She hid her sword behind her back and entered. What she saw reminded her of a scene she had seen once before in this very bedchamber, in this very bed. Everything was the same, the candles lit in the candelabra, the dark silk of the canopy, and the strange, heady smells. Only the bodies entwined on the bed were different. It was one of them, to be exact. It was not the body of a girl; it was the body of an angel. Rhianon almost shrieked. Shimmering wings spread behind her sleek back, golden curls covered Hildegards dark-haired head, pale lips brushed against ruby ones, almost transparent hands intertwined with human ones.
The violent act of copulation was coming to an end. Rhianon vividly imagined the murals in Madaels tower and the ghosts in the barn. Before the fire engulfed it, the same thing must have been happening there.
In her hand was a sword. Rhianon gripped the hilt tightly and stepped closer. She could not see the angels face. But it could have been Madael, after all. Then why did she feel no pain, only unaccountable anger? There is no treason here, or is there?
The neck beneath the golden curls was finally exposed. Curls like snakes slipped from it. Here was the right moment. Rhianon struck so quickly that no one would have had time to dodge. She heard Hildegard scream deafeningly. She was splattered with blood. Or rather, it was a black viscous slurry that looked so much like blood. The still convulsively moving decapitated body tried to rise on its elbows and found no support. His fingers slid over the sheets, and his head recoiled so far from them that they couldnt find it. Rhianon grasped the tangle of tangled strands before anyone else could pick it up. Slowly she lifted it in her outstretched hand. The face, still writhing in agony, was unfamiliar to her. It wasnt Madael. He was not the one in Hildegards arms. She should have felt relief, but all she felt was black anger.
Hildegards screams still wouldnt stop. Before the servants could rush to them, Rhianon emerged from the bedroom, carrying the still-living head in her outstretched hand. A liquid that looked like blood dripped from the stump of its neck. It hissed and almost ignited as it fell on the carpet or the hem of her dress. His long hair was wrapped around her arm, tying it into a bundle, but Rhianon kept the strands in place. His face, distorted in pain, seemed pleasing to her. There was even a moment of admiration in his tormented eyes. Maybe that was what made her joke.
«Well, that you still love her and not me?»
The cracked lips quivered, trying to say something, but no words came out, just blood flowing from his lips. The head seemed to choke on it. Rhianon thought that the severed head would begin to grow ugly and rot right before her eyes, but that one remained beautiful, while the body in Hildegards room might be turning black and falling apart. If so, it was only becoming what it should be. It was ashes.
Barely reaching her room, Rhianon tossed the head into the fireplace without regret. Orpheuss shrieking did not distract her. She watched arrogantly as the fire touched the beautiful features, but could not destroy them at once.
She felt no regret. What if this is the same creature that crawled in the ground and drank the remnants of life from her friends relics. To many of Madaels fallen angels, beauty returned only after drinking someone elses blood or someone elses life. Setius was a case in point. And this angel she did not know at all.
At least she had managed to do something to spare Hildegard. Rhianon liked to take things from others, just as she had been taken from herself. Perhaps after Loretta she would like to take other peoples kingdoms, such as the Duchy of Rothbert. She found the very idea tempting.
«What have you done?» Orpheus held his own neck in horror, as if she could decapitate him as well.
Rhianon turned to him, still holding the bloodied sword in her hand.
«Youre not happy about something.»
He did not answer, and she added:
«If I am truly their queen, I have the right to take their lives.»
If they are immortal, they can rise from the flames like the phoenix. Rhianon stepped back from the fireplace. Sparks splashed the hem of her dress, but it did not burst into flames.
«See to Hildegard,» she said to Orpheus.
She is the madwoman?» He was clearly dissatisfied.
«I dont want her plotting anything against us or making any noise today,» Rhianon explained.
«Then it will be done.»
Orpheus disappeared quickly.
Rhianon hid her sword back in its scabbard. She did not scrub the blade because she knew it would absorb blood like a sponge instead of rusting from it. She didnt need a squire. How would he cope with such a sword that sought to slaughter him? She, on the other hand, was beginning to have the strength she needed to do it.
Strength! What if it were to be tested? No one who spent more than an hour in forbidden towers usually retained their wits. Sometimes convicts were locked up there on purpose. If someone snuck in and stole something, his hands were cut off. For those who tried to read the manuscripts, the punishment was blindness or insanity. What would happen to her?
Rhianon decided to check it out. She knew the secret passage that connected the towers to the castle. She could get there in a matter of minutes. But if she had called her retinue and left the castle gate, the journey to the towers in Loretta would have taken more than half an hour.
Rhianon was unpleasantly surprised to find herself inside. Everything here seemed to retain the memory of Madael. His presence was felt in the crushing emptiness, as if a golden cobweb stretched over the dusty shelves. She could almost see the two of them huddled against the wall. From the outside it looked beautiful and frightening. It was as if the picture was imprinted on her retina. It was there, near that niche Rhianon went that way.
«They say those towers were built long before the city was built, and that they were never torn down.»
A voice came from behind her and startled her. Rhianon looked behind her and saw no one there, but the voice was still there, seemingly coming from everywhere.
«They had not been torn down because the stonemasons hands had not obeyed them. No one wants his hands to be cut off, do they? But the governor, to whom Denitsa later appeared, did not dare to disobey him. He did not want the angel to rob him of his mind.»