Rhianon-3. Palace in Heaven. Natalie Yacobson

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      “Is that what you say?”

      “I prefer to leave suffering to others, but not to myself and not to you.”

      “You speak of me as something close to you.”

      “But that’s the way it is.”

      “Yes, I think so,” she wasn’t sure. It’s always hard to believe in something that is too desirable. Becoming part of someone who is the most beautiful and powerful, it was too good. For a second she remembered the god, the suffering, the destiny that was forever setting her up for it. The god’s chosen are always suffering, and Dennitsa is to blame. The god’s first favorite betrayed him and now everyone he loved after his first chosen one suffers. She suffered the most, for she had been chosen to take his place. And she didn’t want to remember it anymore. No one wants to be a toy that is expertly guided through a thorny labyrinth of pain to lead to some intended goal. Why is everything so complicated? Why must everyone suffer for the fault of one? And why did this one choose to save her rather than kill her, as he first wanted? Rhianon buried her face in the comforting shoulder, felt even more strongly the scent of lilies and some peculiar, unlike anything else, but pleasant smell of his skin. It immediately brought back memories of gold and rye fields and fairy valleys. No one had ever loved her but him. She was loved only by the devil, the one who should hate everyone, and also her society was desired by the fairies. Everything had worked out so strangely, but she regretted nothing. It was good when at least someone loved you, and it did not matter who they were, as long as you loved them in return. And there was no fear that one day it would end in betrayal, war, division of power, or hurtful words. Madael was proving that he could be trusted. She just couldn’t believe herself. The desire to return or destroy Loretta had become so strong that it would have cost nothing to rip open her own guts for it. The terrifying journey to the Cathedral of Thunder didn’t scare her so much anymore. Some things are worth the sacrifice. You just have to find enough courage to make them. The thought that someone had walked this path before her cheered her up a bit.

      Dragons’ Valley

      Rhianon woke up alone. Though her bed was crumpled, the empty space beside her was unpleasantly startling. It seemed that everything that had happened could only have been a dream. And there really was no deity to hug her at night. There was only fantasy.

      She put a hand to her head, kneading the already disheveled strands of long hair. Her consciousness burned as if it, too, had been burned. It seemed that as she lost Madael, she lost her mind as well. Was this how a man who had slept with a fallen angel should feel. The angel is no longer around, and you begin to lose your mind without him.

      If she leaves here, there’s a completely empty world waiting for her. Only Rhianon was somehow sure that if she became queen again, that Madael would follow her. He would rule with her, or rather stand beside her throne, like a dragon guarding her. For him, the earthly realm is but a toy, and he can give the toy to her and remain the force that invisibly rules all. Rianon would have been fine with this course of events. She would have her own bodyguard, her own personal dragon. With him at her side, she would not have to fear for her own power. And the bonds that held him back… were they still there, or was his bond with the sky fraying?

      Rhianon wondered. Could she live without him now? Would it be possible for her to leave this tent without completely losing her mind? She decided to try. She got out of bed, found on the floor an outfit she had never seen before, and a lace gown. A luxurious dress with wide sleeves and bodice embroidered with pearls fit her just right. She put it on effortlessly. She could feel them crawling lightly down her back and braiding into an intricate knot. Rhianon examined herself in the mirror. She liked the cut and finish of the outfit very much. The only thing missing was a headpiece. The turtle comb, also trimmed with pearls, which was lying on the table, suited her very well. Before she could even think about taking it and sticking it in her hair, it was there. The strands at the back of her head were woven around it, forming a sort of hairstyle. Well, now she has at least a parody of a crown. Rhianon glanced smugly at the teeth of the comb that protruded from her hair. It was like a crown.

      “Queen of the Underwater Kingdom,” she called herself, jokingly, smiling at her reflection. “You’re covered in pearls, and you like the cooler shades of water because they stifle the fire within you.”

      Suddenly she was afraid of her own words. It was as if Madael were made of fire, of golden fire. By denying the fire, it was as if she was going to deny it, too. Well, no, she wasn’t denying it. She would just have to see how she would feel without it.

      Rhianon hoped that she would somehow manage to subdue the vigilance of the guards and get at least a little walk. She cautiously looked out of the tent and saw no one standing watch. The strange black bird was still flying over the spire of the tent. It was making strange noises, and its dark plumage shimmered in the sunset rays. Rhianon’s lips parted in amazement as she saw that the bird had a woman’s head. It was pretty. Her long, dark-blond hair hung awkwardly from her dark plumage. The blue eyes stared at Rhianon with genuine interest. Who knows her, this bird, her face is definitely female, but if it’s a fallen angel too, it’s not even a question of gender. They can appear to people as both male and female, but always invariably beautiful. Madael has a girlish face, too.

      Rhianon suddenly realized that she liked this bird and could bribe her with a light flirtation. She put a finger to her lips, signaling silence. And the bird crouched on the spire and fell silent. She watched carefully as Rhianon walked away from the tent.

      The sleeping or humming warriors below the valley disturbed Rhianon only slightly. She spotted a bypass path that no one was guarding. The rather narrow path was slippery and steep, but Rhianon didn’t hesitate to follow it. She went down the mountain, taking dangerous turns and looping around a lot. The farther Rhianon went, the more grass she noticed on the side of the road. That meant the land wasn’t far away. She was getting tired of being at altitude. The view from the mountains was dizzying. It made her sick. And it was unlikely she would have dared to follow that trail if that one offered a view downhill. But the curves hid it, and Rhianon moved on without knowing where she was going. She wanted to get as far away from the tent as possible to see how well she could feel away from it.

      She stumbled a couple of times, almost falling, but she kept going down anyway. The fabric crunched, causing Rhianon to stop for a moment. Well, her inquisitiveness had ruined a beautiful dress, and it was a good thing the thorns weren’t caught in the hem. Before Rhianon could even regret the damage it had done, the shreds of fabric had already begun to repair themselves. Strands stretched to each other like living threads, connecting, weaving together. There was no need for a loom, everything was happening by itself. In a moment it was impossible to tell that anything had been damaged.

      Rhianon looked discouraged at the dress.

      “Is it magic?” A bird with a woman’s head sat on a rock beside her and grinned. “Is that what you call it?”

      “Yes, it is,” she turned away from the seductive grin. But the bird kept up.

      “That’s what people call it.”

      Rhianon turned around, though, to take another look at the seductive features. The bird flew right behind her, graceful and leisurely, keeping only a short distance.

      “What do people call you?” She asked.

      The bird thought for a moment. Her lovely features frowned in a way that was painful to look at. She obviously couldn’t remember СКАЧАТЬ