ISBN 978-5-0055-4049-2 (т. 1)

      ISBN 978-5-0055-4050-8

      Created with Ridero smart publishing system

      Prologue

      As soon as the road rolled to the cliff, the horses were frightened. Countess Francesca hurriedly jumped out of the sleigh. In a road dress, with disheveled blond hair, she resembled an angry nymph.

      «How did you dare to leave the castle not to say goodbye? She shouted, but the young man who stood on the edge of the cliff did not even turn around. It seemed that he was not worried or anger, nor the favor of famous persons.

      For the first time, Francesca regretted that she was sheltered in her castle this stray painter. When he late at night came to the gates of the fortress and showed her samples of his works, she was fascinated and did not even notice that the grave’s cold was blowing from these pictures. She wanted to hire a talented artist to work, but as soon as he crossed the threshold of her dwelling, the castle was filled with invisible guests. Objects moved by themselves, the wind broke the windows, and at night there was a mysterious melody, as if someone played on the harp. The servants began to happen about the mischievous elves. But after all, Francesca did not believe in the elves. She did not believe and then when at night went down into the ballroom and saw there six ghostly, pale ladies.

      The countess drew attention to the fact that all animals, especially horses, feared the painter. So now the horses were afraid to approach him. And in the meantime he dropped the bag to earth, in which he kept his miniatures and brushes, and began to push some object to the edge of the cliff. In the outline of sharp corners, Francesca guessed that it was a picture wrapped in a scarlet velvet. But why the artist will discharge one of his paintings into the abyss, because he could sell it and thus earn for a living. Judging by clothes, he was very poor.

      «What are you doing, Camille?» The countess approached the young man. He did not even pay attention to her. The red hairs under the green beret, really gave him similarity with the mischievous elf.

      The anger of Francesca began to give way to curiosity. She decided to buy this picture, at least for the sake of pleasure to see what is drawn on it? Once the artist himself wants to get rid of his work, it means that the price will not be high.

      «Camille, how much do you want for this… thing?» Francesca’s elegant hand pointed to the picture in the velvet. «Do you really think that its place is in the abyss?»

      However, the mysterious and, obviously, poorly educated young man didn’t want to start a secular conversation. Only on the moment he broke away from his occupation to look at the countess. Francesca seemed that pain flashed in his eyes.

      «You do not understand. I have to destroy the proof,» he whispered so quietly, that she barely heard the words.

      «And if I give you the fastest horse and in addition, the wallet with silver,» without thinking, offered Francesca.

      In response, Camille only sadly grinned.

      «To travel, I don’t need a horse, Milady,» he said. The simplest phrase in his lips sounded like a mystery.

      «Although on the other hand…» Camille became thoughtful. There was a deep fold between his eyebrows. «If I sell you this picture, you promise not to put it in the sun?»

      «I promise,» Francesca nodded, although this requirement seemed to her strange. She stretched out the wallet with money, and he reluctantly accepted them.

      «I hope that you will not get a mischief to your head, my reckless mistress,» Camille whispered. He raised his bag from the ground, he threw it over his shoulder and went away, not even saying goodbye. When he passed by, the horses frightened and beat about the ground with hooves, but Camille did not even pay attention to them, as if used to such reaction of animal to his appearance.

      As soon as he disappeared from sight, Francesca wanted to take away the velvet from the painting, but immediately remembered the warning. The snowfall recently stopped, and now in the sky shone a cold, winter sun. And it is impossible to exhibit the picture on the sun’s rays. She had to ask the coachman to bring the picture to the sleigh and turn back to the castle.

      There was an extensive forest around her castle. Her family lived here already a lot of centuries. Nearby are several prosperous villages. As a child, Francesca often played in the forest with rustic children and never was afraid to meet the night on the forest road. So why does it seem to her now that a dangerous observer can hide in this forest?

      The way to the castle seemed to her long and tedious.

      «How did you pale, mistress!» Exclaimed the maid, waiting for her mistress at the gate. The countess looked into the manual mirror. Yes, indeed, she was too pale and felt a strange dizziness, just like the heroine of a fairy tale, bewitched by elves.

      Francesca told to bring the picture in the tower and put on the easel. When the servants left, Francesca drew the curtains on the windows, lit the candles and only then removed the cover from the painting.

      In the first moment, she lost the gift of speech from amazement. In her head a thought was still flashed, and suddenly Camille stole somewhere this picture. In any case, such work is not typical for him, and no one court master could create something similar. At first, Francesca thought that an angel was depicted on the canvas, but already in the next moment rejected this guess. Each item was identified very clearly, and at the same time, a mysteriousness forced all the colors, except for black and gold. In the background there was a lattice of the dungeon and chains attached to the raw walls, a wonderful, blonde young man was sitting at the oak table. He leaned over the revealed book. The glare from the candle lays down on his face. The large, pensive eyes shone. The bright curls like halo surrounded the smooth forehead. What an exalted image, Francesca thought, and only a moment later, noticed that behind the young man stands the black winged creature. Long claws stretch to the shoulders of a diligent student who does not even want to tear his eye from the book to see the demon for his back.

      The countess inspected the angles of the picture in the hope to find the name of an artist or at least the name of the picture, but did not find any or another. Looking on the picture, she asked herself the same question: who is this young man, did he die many years ago or is still alive, and maybe this perfect face is just a fantasy of the painter?

      «Who are you?» Francesca asked out loud, touching with her fingers the canvas, as if she was hoping that the drawing could answer her. She wanted to say something else, but here they knocked at the door. A frightened servant was on the threshold.

      «Milady, there is a fire in the village,» he began without warnings.

      «So send people who will help to put out the fire,» Francesca ordered.

      «No one wants to go to the village,» said the frightened servant, not knowing whether he should tell her the whole truth. «There is no accident at home. The peasants swear that they saw a dragon.»

      «A dragon,» Francesca repeated as echo, «but this is incredible!»

      The servant left and she rushed to the window. She opened the window. Now on the place where the village had even recently stood, the flame was raging. The black smoke rose to heaven, and a flexible, golden creature was circled over a huge burial fire. Francesca did not have time, as it should, look at, the winged destroyer disappeared, and the fire continued to be raging.

      Francesca closed the window and pressed her back to the wall. She had to close the eyelids. All candles except one, at once went out. Shadows drank on the walls. Some voices sounded in silence.

      Francesca opened her eyes and almost screamed from surprise. Before her stood the same blonde young man. He was as beautiful as in the picture. Only this