Rhianon-7. Queen of Vinor. Natalie Yacobson
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warned.
But why is it? She is about to be crowned. Rhianon could almost feel the thin golden hoop of pearls and golden prongs being placed upon her head. It was so reminiscent of a ceremonial wreath, only it was not made of flowers but of jewels. It would now replace the myrtle. She bent over as the clergyman’s wrinkled hands placed the wreath on her head. Only when she felt the pleasant cool weight on her forehead did Rhianon lift her eyes. What was so scary ahead that she should not look at? She hadn’t seen anything like that. And none of the local servants, no matter what rank he wore, could see the seal of the devil’s kisses on her lips. They didn’t even suspect. No one in Vinor except the astrologers and the First Minister could look inside her and see the devil in her heart, much less consider the supernatural fiery fruit in her womb. Even more, these people had no idea how dangerous she was. She could breathe fire on them at any moment, easily ignite everything here and burn herself. No, she would not. Rhianon believed that Madael would have pulled her out of the fire anyway. It was as if he were invisibly with her everywhere…
And then she saw the crucifix. The thin gold cross and the figure on it struck her as a symbol of suffering, not as something sacred. Was that what people worshipped? Is that what the legend says keeps dragons away? And would it frighten Madael? Rhianon didn’t know what feelings dominated her now, contempt, apprehension, or fear. At any rate a sense of acute dislike. She felt dislike and pain, and the next moment a trickle of blood was dripping across her lips.
«Turn away!» The spirit whispered furiously, but she stared.
It was partly a deception, how one could deify someone’s torture and find comfort in it. As she looked at the crucifix she felt that she too was being tortured. It was as if it were a symbol of evil. She imagined the thin, glittering serpent coiling around the cross and almost merging with it. They were the serpent and the cross. An expression from the same half-forgotten legends suddenly came to mind. So the cross keeps the demons away. Why didn’t it burn on the spot? If you believe the legends, then long ago she should have turned into a pillar of fire, barely crossing the threshold of the holy place. But it didn’t happen.
«And you’re not afraid to go blind looking at it?» The same invisible companion teased her.
«I’m not,» she whispered back. A trickle of blood still trickled down her lips, causing a pain that was subtle but stinging. The jolt of fire inside her was barely perceptible, either. She did not smell flame or even hot steam on anyone, but those in the front rows, especially the priests, noticed the blood. Were they startled? Frightened? Rhianon could not have characterized the whole gamut of feelings that flashed across their unpleasant faces. Let them be against it. She didn’t care anymore. She was Queen of Vinor now, after all.
They left the cathedral to the solemn ringing of bells. Ferdinand was happy, she was not. She could barely manage to pull a smile. A whole rain of white flowers and grains of rice flew on the newlyweds. One had to rejoice with everyone else, or at least feign joy. Such a beautiful bride the world had never seen before. Naturally, she was welcomed, and she searched with the eyes of a lost angel. Rhianon looked up at the rooftops of the tallest buildings and cathedrals, squinting painfully at the sun, trying to see something. Her eyesight had become especially sharp lately, and yet it was as if a veil covered her eyes. She could not find the one she was looking for, though she felt he was here. He was looking up at her, she could feel it, and she couldn’t even look back. She wouldn’t dare ask the question where you were. She was afraid.
What if he was about to destroy the whole town? Or maybe he would rush down and take her with him? Perhaps he was just waiting for the marriage ceremony to be complete, so that he could now completely break all existing inhibitions? Now that she was a stranger’s wife… Only Rhianon did not feel like Ferdinand’s wife. Everything had been accomplished, and he was still a stranger. She held his hand and felt nothing.
Even the leaden gargoyles and caryatids hunched over the cathedral were closer to her than this lively, warm man. In general, statues attracted her more than living people. It was as if they lived above the city of their own secret life, and came into motion when their actions had no other witnesses but the indifferent starry skies. She was reminded of the seven angels and Setius. They knew how to turn into statues. Were all sculptures like them? Did someone with magical powers or one of Madael’s armies breathe sorcery life into every statue on earth?
She stared up into the height for so long that the sunlight made her eyes tingle. The last thing she needed now was to cry.
Rhianon spotted pilgrims in the crowd, each time trying to see if their wings were fluttering under their rags. Only they were all ordinary people. There were a few wandering wizards in cloaks woven with sorcerer’s symbols, and two or three sad fairies. The magical creatures that danced friskily through the crowd and snatched the purses of the townsfolk for fun better than any pickpockets today looked at her disapprovingly. They enjoyed the festivities and the opportunity to frolic, but they kept their eyes away from Rhianon.
«The Queen is a traitor,» the spirit whispered defiantly, and laughed. Rhianon did not even shake him off. Why should she? He is right. She sighed and was glad that the tiny cloud of fire remained unnoticed. She couldn’t let anyone notice her peculiarities and unusual tendencies today. After the incident in the cathedral, rumors would already be circulating. She had already wiped the blood from her lips, but she still felt the center of attention.
«It is too soon for these people to realize who you are. Let them get used to you first. Then show them your fire. And the power is in your hands. You’re doing the right thing, sweetheart. You’ve learned how to play politics after all. The mistakes of the past have not been in vain for you. You’re smart now, secretive and calculating.»
She ignored the spirit’s words. Why spoil her mood by quarreling with him? Perhaps she could have some fun after all. A feast and an evening ball awaited her at the castle. There, too, she will be decorated with flowers, and she will be congratulated and presented with gifts.
«Don’t let the poison in the cup get to you. You have many competitors,» the invisible companion warned her.
Rhianon let his words pass her lips again. In the castle, the aromas of fresh baked goods and roasts made her slightly groggy. Dishes that would have awakened her appetite even for a well-fed man seemed utterly unappealing to her. Roasted pheasants, quail, capons, and spit-roasted ox and pork reminded her of the feasts of Madael’s servants. She looked at the carcasses of birds, hens, partridges, or turkeys, or the carcasses of wild boars cooked in gravy, and she saw corpses on the battlefield, torn apart by black claws. The wine in the goblets resembled thick blood. Rhianon felt nauseous. So much meat here, roasted, boiled, served in sauce, or laden with herbs and peas. Meat! She couldn’t even look at it. It was carrion. How many human corpses had gone to satiate the inordinate appetite of her fallen angel’s army? And now she watches as people prepare to eat animal corpses. Pigeon pies, pilaf, ham and pâté… how many smells blended into one. She could only smell death in them. The royal hunters, cattlemen, and shepherds knew their business. Rhianon looked at a carcass laden with cranberries and pineapples, and saw a doe beating under a spear. Any of the black creatures of the fallen armies would have enjoyed its taste as much as humans now enjoyed it.
Unlike her, the guests paid homage to all the dishes. The nibbled bones remained on the exquisite dishes. People devoured the meat along with it as if taking someone else’s life. No, only Madael’s subordinates did that, she reminded herself, but she was still disgusted. She would have joined in the meal earlier, too. The pile of stuffed cabbage rolls on the platter in front of her exuded a pleasant, spicy aroma, and Rhianon was about to vomit. She remembered the raw meat on the golden plate, Madael bringing the bloody scraps to her pale lips and blood on them. He eats though he does not want to, only to show her how it is done. In that desolate tower at the edge of the earth, they could do anything together. He could have killed and skinned her just as he did the corpses of defeated warriors. After all, he had defeated her on the battlefield and still he liked having a live toy better. He needed a friend, even a lover. He could not understand his own feelings at the time, nor could he