Rhianon-9. The Birth of the Dragon. Natalie Yacobson

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ someone seemed to whisper to her, «Don’t, something terrible will happen to them anyway.» She thought she recognized Setius’s voice.

      «They are doomed… doomed…» those words echoed in her brain every time she glanced at Angus or Clotter, or all the councilors at once. It was as if someone had whispered it to her, but not Orpheus.

      «Aren’t you going to visit the forbidden towers? Or would you rather have Ingot bring you the manuscripts from them itself?»

      «I don’t need it anymore,» Orpheus’ question didn’t excite her at all, though she would have been worried before.

      «Oh yes, you think you know everything,» he pointed to his sides.

      «Yes, I do!» Rhianon took the comb herself and ran it through her hair. Maybe she thought she saw a puffy-looking dwarf curl up beside the great trellis. That could have been just a shadow reflected by the mirror. How would Fate manage to sneak into the castle? And why is it? He had already gotten his revenge on her. The pendant she held in her hands simply dissolved. Rhianon still regretted it. It wasn’t even that it was magical. She loved beautiful things, and the pendant was capable of taking on various fanciful shapes. She was hurt that it was gone. And it was all Fate’s fault. If she’d really seen him under her feet now, she’d have thrown a hairbrush at him. The heavy handle, instructed by mother-of-pearl and carnelian, would have hurt him on the top of his head. Better yet, a snuff-box or casket would have been thrown at him. She could only hope he would not steal it.

      But he was nowhere to be found. Rhianon looked at the carpet, then back at the mirror, but she saw that the lid of the snuffbox, strewn with emeralds, had been lifted. Before Rhianon could be startled by some inexplicable power, a leprechaun was crawling out of the empty, velvet-covered interior.

      «Ah, there you are, little one,» she nodded graciously in response to his bow. It seemed to be the same leprechaun she’d noticed before. She had no reason to catch him to lead her to the treasure, so he followed her himself. But a peasant boy who discovered such a tiny lord in his field would have been delighted. Everyone knows that a captured leprechaun is able to point out the place where the gold is buried. The main thing before that is not to give in to trickery and not to let the little creature out.

      She had plenty of gold. What was left in Loretta’s treasury was enough for a life without poverty. And Vinor is much richer. And Ferdinand was always eager to share his wealth with her. There was also a talent given by Madael. She became able to see the places where treasure is buried. The glitter of gold beneath the earth beckoned her, like the glow of Dennitsa’s beauty. Even in Loretta Rhianon had seen such places where ancient treasures lay buried under paving stones, in someone’s garden, or even in a field. They were probably cursed, but that did not worry Rhianon. All gold is cursed, if you count who it came from. Cursed and blessed all at once. And so was he.

      She hastily banished her thoughts of Madael and looked at the leprechaun. He was just clutching a tiny hat with a feather to his narrow chest, waiting for something.

      «I hope they didn’t send you from the School of Witchcraft? Do they want to watch me?»

      «I just realized that my place is with you.»

      The thin voice, which to human ears would have been no louder than a mosquito’s squeak, was clearly audible to Rhianon.

      «Then stay,» she graciously allowed him. She already had a dragon, a harpy, a monkey, and a parrot in her tiny menagerie, so why not have the leprechaun join them. Oh, yes, she’d also forgotten about the personal spirit that followed her around. Now, if this went on, she’d have her own circus, and even without Loretta, she wouldn’t have to worry about making a living.

      Staying without Loretta? Why did the thought suddenly cross her mind? The assumption was like a knell. It hurt for a moment.

      When the door to the room opened silently, Rhianon jumped frightened. It wasn’t that she was afraid of danger, it was just that she wasn’t used to anyone entering her room without knocking. Hildegard, however, did not seem accustomed to etiquette.

      She did not even curtsy, just walked in and looked at Rhianon, long and intently. At her approach, the leprechaun immediately slipped back into the snuffbox. Orpheus was lurking somewhere behind the curtain. Perhaps he was making faces at his guest. Rhianon could not turn around and check, she was staring just as intently at Hildegard. The black and purple silhouette was like a magnet, attracting and holding her gaze captive.

      «I could burn you,» she warned.

      «But you won’t,» Hildegard reached for her face, the black bouffant sleeve barely visible against the darkness, and the pale, narrow hand at the end of the black cuff seemed to flutter through the air like a firefly.

      «You’re very pretty,» Hildegard said, not daring to touch Rhianon’s skin, though she clearly wanted to.

      She already had the ivory-handled hairbrush in her hands. Before Rhianon could see it, the object was gone from the table. However, she was no longer surprised by such small tricks. She could make the studs fly out of the box and stab her rival, but for once it would have been unnecessary. Hildegard clearly felt terribly uncomfortable here herself.

      «My hair will be styled by a maid or a chambermaid,» Rhianon almost mentioned that her tiny faeries could do a much more elaborate hairstyle in no time.

      «I’ll do it better,» Hildegard said smugly.

      Rhianon reluctantly nodded. Her unwelcome nocturnal guest was as dark as a shadow herself. The sleeves and ruffles of a cambric shirt flickered at the neckline of the sleeves did nothing to soften that impression. Her face against the jet-black hair looked like a white mask. As soon as Rhianon had taken her place on the dressing table, Hildegard began to brush her hair, gently and carefully. She was afraid to touch the curls with her hair, only gently ran the brush through it. But the luster of the golden curls below her waist clearly delighted her.

      «You’re a queen now, you must impress everyone with your clothes and your hair,» Hildegard whispered. «You are more important than our coat of arms; your attire is like the emblem of our treasury, it should show courtiers and ambassadors how rich and powerful we are. And your hair should have some ruby threads woven into it.»

      «No, not rubies,» Rhianon reminded herself of her earlier aversion to the color of fire and all its reminders. Her fear of flames was now a thing of the past. She did not seek to contain the fire; rather, she stirred it up. But no gifts from Hildegard she wanted to accept.

      «I have enough jewelry. You’re very kind, but I’ll choose for myself.»

      «I will.»

      Now the brush glided through her hair in complete silence. A moment more, and Hildegard’s fingers touched her curls just as gently. Only fairies touched her like that. Rhianon closed her eyelids and remembered the touch of the green-eyed Phyllis. Or Flotus. Or maybe it was Chloe. Touching them was like dipping into a sea of flowers. All her fairy friends were bright or ghostly, but equally exhilarating. At the first caress she was immediately reminded of them, but there was only a dark shadow behind her.

      Rhianon opened her eyes and saw Hildegard’s reflection in the mirror behind her. Her lips, lined with something purple, curved mockingly. Her headband slid down to the side, revealing stiff black curls. She might have been beautiful, or even attractive, if it hadn’t been for that deep black tone that surrounded her like an aura. СКАЧАТЬ