Dragon’s Empire – 4. Rose for dragon. Natalie Yacobson

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      «Even if he was here, I did not pay attention.»

      «And Henri did not bother you?»

      «He has full of his problems. They say he wants to dig a whole city underground.»

      «And what do you think about this?»

      The expressive, radiant eyes of Vincent flashed.

      «I can say one thing for sure, he will not be a king,» he predicted and grinned, as if he was always ready to apply his hand to overthrow from the throne a not clever and sickly heir.

      «Your scars are not healed,» I regretfully looked at Vincent’s throat. «If I could heal them…»

      «Unlikely. She is still too strong, «Vincent raised his hand to the collar, as if he wanted to fasten it, but he had changed his mind. «Do not worry, I’m already used to the fact that I am marked.»

      He was used to. And I could not get used to the deep stripes with torn edges, which cut his perfectly white, gentle skin. It seemed that some dark strength, with which he concluded a contract, waved with its claws and left its stamp on him. But it was not right, I too went into the study of dark sciences, like him, but one Vincent had a stamp on himself. I, as in life, remained impeccable to the first explosion of rage, until the first awakening of the Evil. As soon as someone managed to arouse anger in me, the dragon broke out.

      «Rustle, scratch… I still think that someone scratched into the window.» Vincent tried to laugh but the laughter came out bitter and weak.

      «I won it, Vincent,» I suddenly wanted to share my joy with him, a moment of my triumph. «You can not even imagine. It also seemed impossible for me, but I won, I saved a girl designed for execution.»

      Vincent stumbled incredulously. From his chest broke out the quiet hysterical laugh.

      «Edwin, you… Do you decide to substitute your beautiful immortal head for an ax because of some girl. I understand, for me there was no evil in jokes with death, I could climb ten times on the scaffold and escape, my life was nothing worth. And you achieved almost everything and now you play with fire.»

      Vincent began to remind me of a concerned, charming Florian, who, instead of doing something of state’s importance, told me to pinch shutters. He also didn’t even dare to explain that the window I should close not from birds, enemy arrows, spies, but from Debora.

      «I don’t play with fire, Vincent,» I explained strictly. «I myself create a flame and the prince should pray that one day it did not hit his head. I hesitated too long.»

      «You think that becoming a deliverer of one victim, you will cross the entire black list of the prince. Be sure he will be replenished.»

      «It is impossible! The ring remained with Rose and at the first opportunity I will destroy it. No ring means no shackles.»

      «Rose? She is now visiting her cousin. I know for sure, I asked for reliable people.»

      Vincent could not believe that for the first time, the reliable informants were not right.

      «I was sure,» he shook his head and chestnut curls fell on his forehead. Over the past time, they have become a little longer and with the slightest movement climbed into the eyes, so Vincent constantly had to tidy his hair.

      «You can not believe anyone, especially me,» I decided to mock at Vincent, but I said the pure truth. I was such a dangerous creation. Rose did the right thing that concerned to me with suspicion.

      Vincent sighed with relief, realizing that I intend to carry a violin with me. I already hid it under the raincoat, trying not to pay attention to the scarlet drops from it.

      «Edwin,» Vincent called me when I was already going to leave. He stood motionless, arms crossed on his chest, and peered at me for a long time and carefully, as if trying to determine if I would take seriously to what he would say. «You have no one refuge, but wherever you are, do not let anyone unfamiliar.»

      I grinned, consider Vincent very naive. Did it really understand that unhappy was the one who would knock at my door. Whether this guest had good or evil intentions, the demon was waiting for him. If suddenly, the midnight killer would attack me, hoping to find a sacrifice, then for him it would be an unpleasant surprise to find himself unexpectedly in the dragon’s claws. So it was with everyone who attacked me. I turned my face to the attacker and, having met with me, he retreated in indescribable horror, understanding that it was too late, because all his fears were standing in front of him, embodied in one half an aristocratic, half demonic creature.

      Coming out of the house, I turned around and noticed that the window frames, really, were scratched. I recently saw exactly the same traces of claws, just not in Lara, but very far from here, on the floor of the hut, lost in the forest’s dense.

      Squeezing the violin under the arm, I walked around the dark city easily and naturally, as if a student of the Music faculty, just released on vacation. Inside me everything was strained as a string. I listened to every sound, every vibration of someone’s too free thoughts, but did not catch what I was afraid. No one in the city has thought about the uprising. Otherwise, I would immediately felt it, passing by any dark window, followed by conspirators in this minute, or even a couple of days ago. The dragon was harsh, but didn’t kill citizens, did not deprive the title of famous noblemen, did not take the lion’s share of urban treasures, but only a small, almost symbolic annual tribute. It was equally for residents whom they would pay taxes to the dragon or to the king. In addition, the dragon rarely appeared in the local society. So that people could whisper on whether they were in the power of the dragon, but the golden clawed paw did not knock them at the window in the middle of the night. Fear did not fade, but did not ignite. They were already were used to me, to my rapid silent steps along the night pavement, to the house disappeared from the square, to the golden scope of the wings and a musical whistle in the transcendental altitude.

      The violin of Debora was not heavier than the stack of books, but suddenly it began to pull out my hand. There was a cold sweat on my forehead, as if something frightened me. But what could frightened me? The very idea was absurd. What could cause me fear? Empty streets, dark windows, echo of my own steps or a quiet annoying rustle of the wings somewhere behind, in the alley or on the next street.

      I carried the violin carelessly on the bending of the elbow, as a textbook and, I honestly, wanted to throw it into the first roadside ditch, so as not to hear more of these obsessive tramping or rustling sounds. From such an act I was stopped only by precaution. And suddenly, some tramp wanted to pick up the violin and it would be awaken an evil, sleeping somewhere far away in the burned sun and the desert fire.

      There was no one in the street, there was no one in front of the square.. In altitude were no spirits or fairies nor angels. I was the only supernatural creature in the whole city, not counting Vincent. Probably he was right, all evil was in the violin. For the first time I had a feeling that someone flew after me. I returned to the castle and put the violin on the table in the music room.

      I used to live alone and I did not need to hide anything. It was necessary to understand that Rose would be much more curious than her sculptural copy in niche. Among the whole collection of musical instruments, the violin would not be as noticeable, but on the table, СКАЧАТЬ