Rhianon-2. Princess of Fire and the Winged Warrior. Natalie Yacobson
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hue, but now something pulled her like a magnet. No sooner had she touched Fresia, however, than the carriage came to a stop.
«Well, here we are,» Chloe sighed in relief and adjusted the cream ruffles on her skirt. A bone fan appeared from somewhere in her hand. She shook off a few pesky butterflies from it and began to wave it around herself. She was obviously tired of diverting a flying spirit from her carriage.
Rhianon leaned on Fresia’s arm to get out of the carriage. As soon as she was on solid ground, she began to look around for Orpheus. He was standing just behind them, two or three meters away. His reddish strands contrasted sharply with the brown alder trunk he was leaning against. He looked at his mistress with a challenge, almost a reproach.
«You had no right to leave me, much less trade me for this unseemly company,» his eyes spoke without words. Now with ineffable anger, they too were like two jewels.
«Come,» Fresia pulled her forward, but Rhianon still could not take her eyes off Orpheus. She had never seen him so angry before. He was still standing there by the tree. Long strands of hair were hanging down over his face, and he wouldn’t even raise his hand to fix them. It was unusual for him to do nothing. He’d been so vigorous before, but now it was as if he’d lost all his strength at once. Without his companion, it was as if he had lost himself. There seemed to be more life in those red locks than in his colorless face. They would have burned his cheek like a living flame.
Rhianon turned around several times to check again to see if he was following them, but he stood motionless.
«Of course he’s not invited, so he can’t follow us,» Fresia said in answer to her unspoken question.
«Is that so? – Rhianon turned once more. Her argument seemed quite logical. Orpheus could not violate unwritten etiquette and follow the ladies where no one called him. It happened to him for the first time. Earlier he was not afraid to break any prohibitions, and he had no respect for anybody, but today it was different. Orpheus did not dare to move, as if he were chained.
Chloe, who was adjusting her train showed him her tongue. Rhiannon shuddered involuntarily. Here was more proof that these were not just prim court ladies. None of them would allow themselves such a thing.
Guests were already gathering at the front door. The crowd, surrounded by soaring high-poverty lights, looked festive. Rhianon began to look closely at the lushly dressed figures. Fresia was insistently dragging her forward up the wide marble staircase, but Rianon did manage to get a glimpse of some of them. Under a dome of stars and obscure lights flying in the sky, everything might have seemed phantasmagoric, but some of the guests were truly astounding. Rhianon even parted her lips in amazement. Even at Athénaïs table she had never seen anything like this before. Wasn’t it all a dream, a question she had asked herself more than once?
«No, it is not a dream. Could it all be a dream? You’d better remember heaven…»
She turned around and began to look frantically at the masked faces. Who could have said it? The voice sounded not here, but somewhere far away and at the same time right in her mind. It spoke of heaven.
«What’s the matter with you?»
Fresia saw Rhianon gasp frantically for air and press her hand against her corset, in the very place where a person’s heart should be beating. But do fairies have one? Rhianon was afraid of giving herself away. It seemed to her that a moth was imprisoned in her chest instead of her heart, beating its wings frantically against the wall of her chest. Her head felt foggy. There was someone beside her, someone, but not Fresia. Someone was standing so close that she could feel his presence, but she couldn’t see him.
«It is all right,» she tried to hide the fact that her dizziness and beating heart plagued her. Whether Fresia believed her or she was too perceptive for that. At any rate, they moved on smoothly. Rhianon stopped only once, feeling something press her sliding train to the floor behind her. She turned around and noticed the culprit. Someone in a harlequin costume was squatting and dislodging a piece of material that clung to the bobbin on his shoe. Or maybe he had stepped on it on purpose and was now pretending to be concerned in order to delay her even more. He suddenly looked up at her and one long, long look told her a lot. Whoever this visitor under the mask was, he knew her. Black as agates, his eyes almost grinned. Rhianon waited impatiently for him to release her, but even then, though she walked without turning around, she could still feel his gaze behind her. He seemed to follow her. She clutched tightly at Fresia’s arm, as if that could keep her from anything. In any case, she wanted whoever walked behind her to see that she was not alone here, but with her companions.
«You should have been here on the autumnal equinox, or even earlier on the winter solstice. We’re so late,» Fresia lamented on the way. «This masquerade should have been arranged a long time ago.»
«But then you wouldn’t have had time to invite me,» Rhianon didn’t know why she reminded her of that, probably because she always wanted to console those who complained loudly in front of her.
«Yes, it wouldn’t have been the same without you,» Fresia said, and she couldn’t quite make out whether she was joking or serious, but her arm was suddenly about Rhianon’s waist. It seemed no longer an arm, but a snake or a rope, wrapped tightly around her waist. Rhianon could still feel the coolness of the mountain stream, but being in such close proximity with someone was suddenly not very pleasant.
«Are we here all night?» Rhianon watched the chandeliers above the ballroom light up one by one. Maybe she thought she saw bats hiding among the pendants.
«Nightfall would not begin until after the master had greeted us all,» Fresia grinned, not in a very amiable way. Rhianon shuddered at the grin. She could sense at once when others were up to something. What could Fresia be up to? Chloe was just teasing some of the guests at this moment, telling them that their masks were no good. It was inconsiderate to impose so much on the quarrel, but Rhianon herself didn’t like their costumes and half-masks the color of flame either. They looked as if they were made of living flames, and if you came near them they would scorch you. Rhianon turned away quickly. The mere sight of red disturbed her. Lush greens, or gentle whites, were another matter. Those seemed to prevail here. Only once did a lady in a tight golden outfit and the same mask slip past them. Salamander, Rhianon called her to herself. The woman seemed to notice her, too, and touched her lightly as she passed. And it was no longer clear whether it was a woman or some extraordinary animal that really looked like a huge salamander. Rhianon suppressed the urge to turn around and stare after her. Instead she scrutinized the others in front of her. No one wore a mask. Many even wore fancy headdresses. Rhianon saw hats with veils and veil, peacock-feather headdresses, and whole flower pyramids in place of the tiaras. More than once she wondered if the sprouts of outlandish little flowers really did sprout from under the transparent skin of the ladies, or if it was just an illusion. Only she dared not ask Fresia that question. She might just laugh in response. For she knew all she knew for certain. But Rhianon could only guess at what guests in non-human societies might be like. But if Freesia was to be believed, the owner of this house was human. She spotted him in the center of the hall, just as he was greeting guests. He and his wife and children were unmasked. Though a small group of guests in well-made masquerade costume stood beside them, Rhianon knew at once that they were only human. People like the master of the house and his family, who had been called here on this particular night by accident or on purpose. For some reason Rhianon felt pity for them, and she didn’t even know why. Of course, it could be explained by the fact that in their usual costumes, sewn by mere mortal tailors, they looked too shabby in comparison to the gathering of unearthly guests. Rhianon looked questioningly at Fresia.
«What would happen next?»
The fairy squeezed her hand tightly.
«Don’t ask questions. You do not want them to know that you were not privy to their plans, do you?»
Rhianon shuddered. What does that mean? Isn’t she being mistaken for one of their own here? Or does it stand out all too well that she