«No. Im sorry! I meant no offence.»
«But you have!» Rebecca opened the fan with a bang, the slats of which again bore a scene of kittens playing with a ball. The sight of those kittens was somehow frightening. It looked like you were about to be in their claws instead of a ball of fur.
Brendan was distracted by the beauty of the garden. There were such rare flowers blooming here that he didnt know the names of them. But mostly roses dominated. Their wattles stretched across arbors, steps, columns, gazebo roofs, even the ground. Only the water they did not reach. The lily ponds seemed abandoned without ducks or drakes. Just wait for the webbed paw of a waterman to poke out of them.
«Wheres the gardener?» It seemed to Brendan that the boxwood bushes had not been pruned in a long time. And the gladiolus bushes were neglected. Some black stems sprouted between the flowers, like weeds.
«We dont need it!» Rebecca whistled melodically, and the vine, suddenly detached from the arbor on which it twisted like a living snake. It put her arm around Rebeccas waist and helped her climb up the rose-covered stairs that led to the large, round fountain.
«So they really are alive!» Brendan watched in horror as the long vines separated from the walls, and as if his hands were pulling apart the bushes blocking the passage, even finding a basket and scissors so that Rebecca could cut the roses.
«Why do you think there are no guards in the castle? If it werent for them,» she gently stroked one naughty vine that was trying to pull her hat off, «wed have an army to protect Her Highnesss domain.»
«Ive never seen anything like it!» Brendan whistled, and one vine nearly strangled him.
«Dont whistle in their presence!» Rebecca snapped at him. «And dont make any sudden moves! Otherwise theyll think youre a thief.»
«It is all right!» Brendan gradually became accustomed to treating the vines courteously, like living beings.
As luck would have it, there were just as many grapes in the garden as there were roses. They twisted along the walls and towers, stretched along the parapets of the fortress wall, even wrapped around the roof. If its all alive, its no wonder the castle hasnt been occupied by invaders yet.
«Are the berries alive, too?»
«No, you can pick the berries. But you try to prune them, and theyll strangle you,» said Rebecca, looking triumphant, as if Brendan had walked into a trap.
«If youd known it was so risky, you wouldnt have come to us at any price,» she said, her gaze informing him.
«Are you picking roses for the princess?» Brendan guessed.
Rebecca nodded haughtily.
«Does she like roses? There are plenty of more harmless flowers. I dont like roses myself, because Ive often pricked myself on their thorns. But honestly, youre prettier than roses. They just stabbed you!»
«What do you mean?» Rebecca didnt even frown upon him for his impertinence. «I pick roses with gloves on. Ive never been pricked.»
«I mean the scratches on your shoulders! Theyre so deep! They dont hurt!»
«Is it scratches?» She was amazed. «You imagined it.»
You were dreaming! You imagined it! What kind of game is she playing with him? He could see the marks of the five claws on her arms, her shoulders, even her cheekbone.
«Youre like the bride of a werewolf who flirts with him at night and hides her dangerous affair by day.»
«Youve read too many fairy tales!» Rebecca barked at him.
«I do not read them at all!»
«Then how do you know about werewolves? Have you ever seen one?»
Yeah, Brendan almost said it, the one on a chain in your dungeons. But it was better to keep quiet about the nightmare. Rebecca would have laughed at him.
«Tell me honestly, do you have a werewolf beau?» Brendan was getting bolder with his theories.
«No!» she retorted. «I dont have a beau.»
«Probably it is because of your prickly disposition, but frankly, your wicked tongue aside, youre as pretty as a rose.»
Rebecca was about to scold him, but softened when she heard the compliment. All women adore compliments. Here she is no exception. Its worth continuing to flirt with her.
«Youre the most beautiful girl Ive ever seen in my life,» Brendan admitted honestly. «Well, it is except for the one pretty girl I just dreamed about.»
You have to be honest to the end. The blonde named Rashelina, who flashed in his witchy dream, was far more beautiful than the graceful brunette Rebecca.
«Dont believe in dreams!» Rebecca said. «Dont believe in werewolves, either. Its all nonsense, invented by the local plowmen.»
«Where do you see any plowmen? The fields are empty!» Brendan peered through a peep-hole in the vine-clad wall. He saw black silhouettes in the fields. Then they vanished.
«Youll get sunstroke if you dont get out of the shade!» Rebecca quipped again.
Brendan obediently stepped back, and glanced casually at the castle window. He must have thought he saw a large, clawed paw pull the curtain back. He wondered if a werewolf could live in a palatial castle. They usually nested in the thicket of the forest. And they do exist. Word once came to the Court of Aluar of a pack of werewolves. They terrorized the Northern. The King took it seriously and sent a band of knights to help. Brendan himself had seen no werewolves, but the scratches on Rebeccas shoulders worried him. Shes definitely having an affair with a young werewolf boy who peeks into the castle at night. Thats why shes so unkind to the other guys. After all, werewolves have a knack for flipping beauties and seducing women in such a way that they no longer want to see ordinary men.
How to make it clear to Rebecca that she was caught in a web of enchantment, not true love. She was just whistling some dark ballad about a queen who fell in love with a demon. Such frightening tales even Brendan had never heard before.
The sun-drenched garden grew darker with the song. There was no longer a whisper from the vines, but a grunt of dissatisfaction.
«Would you like me to play lute?» Brendan politely suggested to Rebecca.
«No!» she declined.
«Dont you like the sound of the lute?»
«I dont like music in general, and I dont like yours in particular!»
«But you yourself hum about demons.»
«You have auditory hallucinations!»
There she goes again. Secrecy! Cunning! Insubordination! Insolence! What kind of behavior? Rebecca was clearly in love with some werewolf and hiding all evidence of a connection with him. Brendan hadnt even considered the possibility that she, for example, might be a werewolf herself. She didnt scratch herself.
Candlelight Feast
By evening there were no more people in the castle. Brendan kept expecting to see servants who were not there. He even got a little creepy. Only plaster seals squinted at him from all sides. There were caryatids and bookends and stucco decorations on the walls. Even the candelabras are not the typical cupids, but pussycats.
He wished hed met one living cat. Brendan had long dreamed of a cat of his own with it they would have mutual love. The Bastard, as luck would have it, preferred Uncle King and purred exclusively for him. He wished he had a personal furry friend of his own.
«No more lazing about!» Rebecca caught him looking at the murals. «Her Highness wants to see you in the feast hall!»
«Wheres that?»
«Ill show you out. Dont forget to bring your lute.»
«Are there any other guests there besides me?»
«What difference does it make to you whether to play for one princess or an audience?»
«Dont sulk! Lets be friends!»
«Were already friends!» Rebecca responded indifferently.
And you call that friendship?! What, then, was her enmity and hatred? Brendan was even frightened.
Rebecca acted like a stern nun, but she was dressed even vulgarly. The morning dress had been replaced by a provocative evening gown with a plunging neckline and train. The dress was so bright pink it made her eyes water. Brendan never saw whether Rebecca was holding the candelabra in her hand or whether it was flying ahead of her through the enfilade of the hall.
In the evening, the castle was lit by countless candles in chandeliers and sconces. Who lights them all when there are no servants around? There was something like a low whisper from the flames:
«It is danger!»
Did he hear the warning or was he imagining it? It wasnt Rebecca who was dangerous! Brendan even glanced around, wondering if some monster was following them down the corridor, but it was quiet and comfortable and unoccupied. Only the candles flickered like the Milky Way.
The feast-room was as opulent as could be. She could have held a whole army, but the princess sat proudly alone at the head of the long table. The usual opaque veil covered her face.
«Take your seat anywhere you like!» She politely offered.
It seemed to Brendan that the velvet covered chairs were occupied. But they were all empty. He thought for a moment and decided to sit at the farthest end of the table. He put the lute beside him and was greatly surprised when the strings jerked. The music began to flow. Didnt he even have to work? It all worked itself out.
Rebecca walked noiselessly away. Why cant she stay for dinner? Or does she have some urgent business to attend to? Is it at bedtime? Brendans mind was once again filled with thoughts of the werewolf with whom the beautiful girl goes on dates.
«Here you are.» The princess suggested it. She hadnt touched anything herself. Or had she already eaten?
Contrary to Brendans expectations, there were only meat dishes on the table, and not much fruit only one small vase. And they grow in abundance in the garden. Why save them so much? Grapes, of course, can also be used to make wine. But pears, peaches, plums, if theyre too ripe, theyll just rot. Maybe theyre used to make juices here.
A mouse sniffed across the table. Brendan shuddered, and suddenly claws peeked out from under the ladys wide sleeve and clawed at the mouse quite catlike. Was he dreaming? Brendan even pinched himself. Couldnt a finely dressed lady have slipped a mouse under her veil and eaten it, could she? Thats absurd! The veil was opaque, but there seemed to be blood flowing from underneath. Or was it wine?
«Would you care to show your face?» He asked.
«Why should I?» The princess had a beautiful voice. A pure soprano!
«Well, it would be much more comfortable to eat and drink without the veil.»
«I am comfortable as it is.»
There was an awkward pause. Brendan himself fidgeted in his chair like a frying pan. He felt uncomfortable here for some reason.
«Ive heard of hot eastern countries where women arent supposed to reveal their faces. Your ancestors are probably from such a country.»
«No, Im from here. I am from this castle.»
«Is it a cats castle?»
«Do you say a cats castle?» She was astonished.
«Are there many cats here? I havent noticed any.»
«There arent even many mice.»
«Are they considered a delicacy?» Brendan bit his tongue as the awkward pause lingered again.
«Its a wilderness,» the princess finally said. «But were in the castle, the center of civilization. So youre lucky not to spend the night in the fields.»
«Does anyone live in the fields? You cant see the settlements from the tower.»
«Theyre camouflaged.»
«Why is that?»
«There are raids from the mountains. Wild tribes live there.»
«And the castle can withstand the onslaughts?»
«We have a treaty with the savages. They dont come here.»
«I havent embarrassed you too much. I have noticed that the castle is not very fond of receiving guests,» was a subtle hint of Rebeccas unkindness.
«I am glad to have guests,» the princess protested.
«So why dont you show your face?»
«Why is it so important to you? Do you think you can judge a lady by her beauty alone?»
«I prefer intelligence,» Brendan admitted honestly. «Ive already met empty-headed beauties.»
«Good! So it doesnt matter what I look like to you.»
«Youre not pretty, are you? Or is your face covered with a rash? Or is it smallpox?»
«Are you a healer, too?»
«It is not at all.»
«Then dont ask.»
«Forgive me for not being delicate.»
Her tone overwhelmed him, so playful and yet so commanding. She was about to put him on a leash like a tame cat.
«Youre good-looking,» the princess remarked playfully. «Handsome fellows usually prefer the ugly ones. Opposites, as we all know, mutually attract.»
«Honesty is for honesty! I liked your companion Rebecca, though she was not amiable.»
«Yes, she cant give hospitality.»
«But at least she set the table.»
«Thats not her.»
«Who is it?»
«They are the servants.»
«But I havent seen any servants here.»
«You dont have to.»
«Are they all covering their faces, too?»
Have they got some kind of epidemic here? Its time to run away! But Rebecca doesnt seem to have leprosy.
«Its embarrassing that I still dont even know your name.»
«I am Rashelina,» said the princess.
«Are you Rashelina?» Brendan almost fell out of his chair. The same name as the fairytale beauty in his dream! Could he be so lucky to see her in real life, too? His heart fluttered. He was so in love with the girl from the dream that it was time to call him insane and put him on a chain. Barely had the chance to look at her again, he himself was ready to violate etiquette and violently rip the veil from the mistress of the castle.
«Ill play you on the condition that you show me your face,» he delivered his ultimatum, as if he were the castles invader, not a beggar.
«But tonight is not a moonlit night.»
What has a moonlit night to do with it?
Thats absurd! What does a moonlit night have to do with her veil?
«I usually only take my veil off on a moonlit night.»
«Why do you say that?»
Rashelina hesitated.
«Daylight, like candlelight, is not friendly to me.»
That sounds like a riddle. Brendan didnt like riddles because he didnt know how to solve them.
«I thought youd taken some stupid vow, like a vow of silence or a vow of celibacy.»
But is there any vow that requires one to cover ones face with a veil?
The lute played itself. Brendan was taken aback by the sight of the strings, as if they were being plucked by invisible fingers.
I want to dance,» said Rachelina, fretting. And there is no one to dance with but you.
«Take off your veil and Ill dance with you!»
«It is very well!» Rashelina gave in and threw back the sliding piece of opaque silk from her face. Brendan was stunned.
Well, there you have it! Such a face was worth seeing. Or was it better not to see it?
And he brought up the subject of beauty. Rashelina was the prettiest she had ever been. But she was a cat! Who could have a cuter face than a pretty, fluffy cat? Except that he had expected to see the girl from his dream, not a human-sized cat dressed in a lavish ball gown.
«Would you prefer an ordinary lady?? Rashelina guessed.
«It is not at all,» Brendan mumbled. «I love cats!»
He would not have insulted the lady of the castle by dreaming that he had seen in her place the beauty of the dream. She was also called Rachelina. Alas, he was faced with a very different Rashelina. Perhaps the first was just a dream spirit, a moon fairy or something like that. Anyway, one could only meet her again in a dream. And now it is not a dream. Rashelina, impatiently waiting for him in reality, is just a regal cat. There is nowhere to go. He led her in a dance.
Invisible guests
The cats paw lay on top of his palm very gently, trying not to run her claws over his skin. And lace cuffs froth over the cats paw. Brendan had never before in his life seen precious rings even on the paws of a well-groomed Bastard. But the feline princess was wearing many rings: rubies, sapphires, and topazes. The cats kingdom is obviously very rich.
Stop! Why did he think it was a cats kingdom? After all, Rebecca is not a cat. And he hadnt noticed any other feline subjects here yet, either. The creepy monsters in the fields were definitely not of feline stock. Which meant the cat was only a princess. Was her pretty, fluffy face a mask? Brendan dismissed the notion at once. The cat lady in front of him was definitely a natural, not a masquerade. Even the tone of her voice reverberated with a purr or a rumbling.