Masquerades of fairies. Natalie Yacobson
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feast and he manages to squeeze through the door, he should be offered a meat menu. I’ll keep that in mind.»
«What if the dragon decides to snack on the guests?»
«My father often has strange guests, so I don’t mind, as long as he doesn’t touch any of my family.»
«How easily you bargained with the dragon,» Edwin laughed again.
What did he find so funny about such horrifying topics? Flora felt uneasy.
«If you can persuade your dragon to eat the witch who lurks in my father’s castle, I’m welcome. I don’t feel sorry for witches,» Flora joked.
«And if the witch is you?»
«I’m definitely not a witch!»
«Can you prove it?»
«Witches are old, scary and fly at night on broomsticks.»
«Some witches are young and attractive,» Edwin said with the confidence of a connoisseur.
«But everyone flies on broomsticks.»
«So if you fly, you’ll think you’re a witch?» Edwin suddenly switched to «you,» as if he were an old friend, and put his arm around Flora’s waist.
«I won’t fly, because I don’t have wings like a fairy. Nor can I fly with brooms like a witch.»
«But you can dance with me. Maybe something will come out of it.»
«I don’t think a dance will make a flight,» Flora put her hand in Edwin’s confidently. He danced a circle with her across the roof and then suddenly pulled her away from the hard surface. Flora thought he was only helping her to jump up in the dance, but as time passed, she felt no ground beneath her feet. Edwin continued to lead her in the dance already through the air. They danced over the parapet of the roof, then over the garden. In another moment, they would rise into the starry sky.
«You’re an elf! That’s why you’re flying!» Flora tried to feel for the wings behind his back, but only touched his cloak.
«I’m only proving to you that you’re a witch, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to fly at night over the castle.»
«That’s cheating! You flew me!»
«Only witches can communicate with spirits who take them on night flights.»
Flora didn’t know what to say. Edwin had stumped her. He reluctantly returned her to the roof and muttered.
«You’re a witch after all, if you’ve managed to charm me.»
Only a witch could charm an elf, Flora suggested.
«I didn’t mean it,» she squeaked, but Edwin suddenly decided to give her a gift – a rose from the flames. The flower came out of nowhere and burned in his hand. The petals, the stem, and even the thorns of the rose were made of fire.
«Take it!»
«I’ll burn myself,» Flora was frightened, but Edwin put the fiery rose into her hand, and surprisingly, she was not burned.
But Edwin himself disappeared as if he had never been there.
A real witch
«Flora de Rione!» The mask suddenly called her by name.
«How did you know my full name?» Flora glanced warily at the mask, which was squirming and making funny faces in her hands. The holder grew hot.
«Oh, put that disgusting thing away!» The mask wailed. Its thin voice resembled a ringing sound. It seemed that it wasn’t the mask screaming, but the vase shattered and the shards fell to the floor.
«What do you mean?»
«It is this one!»
«Is it a flower?» Flora was astonished. Why didn’t the mask like flowers?
The mask blinked its empty eye sockets in agreement.
«And hurry up!»
«But it’s not disgusting! It’s a rose!»
«It’s fire! I’ll burn myself on it!»
«I don’t burn myself on it. You’re too sensitive for a gold plate,» Flora held the flaming stem in her hand and didn’t even feel the heat.
«You look dead,» the mask squinted at her. «You are senseless, like a corpse.»
«Are you insulting me?»
«I’m just characterizing you. How can a living girl not get burned by fire? Only the dead aren’t afraid of pain.»
«Maybe the rose is enchanted.»
It was given by a wizard who can fly and wields a dragon! Flora’s never had such a friend before. It’s not a friend, it’s a fairy tale! If only he hadn’t forgotten about the dinner invitation. Flora was afraid of losing such an acquaintance. Where else would she meet a magician? A new friend could be useful. If you asked a wizard for a favor, he’d roll mountains.
The mask whimpered and whined, fearing the flames from the rose would disfigure it.
«I’ll melt!» She whimpered.
«It is all right,» Flora stuck the rose into the empty hole in the candelabra.
The mask took a breath of relief. Then suddenly it cried out again in terror. Flora carried it right over the fireplace.
«Ouch, it’s hot!» The mask began to melt right in Flora’s hands, but when she took it to the shade, the melted edges were immediately restored.
«How magical you are!» Flora marveled.
«And you’re magical too!»
«What makes you think so?»
«Fire doesn’t burn you.»
«It doesn’t?» Flora thought it was funny. She put her hand to the fire in the fireplace. Indeed, it doesn’t feel hot. Flora moved her hand lower right up to the tongues of flame. It didn’t feel hot, no burn left on her palm.
«Maybe communing with a wizard conferred magic? By the way, I wonder who lit the fireplace at this late hour. All the servants are asleep.»
«No, it is not all of them,» determined the mask, listening to the silence. Her golden ears perked up. «Someone is wandering the corridor.»
«I don’t see anyone. Maybe it’s my brother back from the village tavern. He drinks there and plays cards all night long.»
«No, it’s not Rafael de Rione,» the mask objected.
«How do you even know my brother’s name? Do you read people’s minds?»
«No, I read the inscriptions on your coats of arms, shields and tapestries.»
Flora only now noticed the commemorative plaques on the walls. There they marked victories in war, weddings, birth dates, and, naturally, birth names. But the letters were so small that you couldn’t read them without a magnifying glass, and the plaques themselves were high up under the arches of the entrances. You’d have to have wings to fly up to them and read them. The plaques were for fashion, not for information.
«You have a dragon’s eyesight,» Flora praised.
«I can also flap my wings and fly to the ceiling,» the mask boasted.
«Don’t show me to Edwin,» the mask squeaked.
«Why is it not? Do you think you’re ugly? Or are you afraid he’ll cast a spell on you? You’re already bewitched.»
The mask remained silent, though Flora shook it this way and that.
«I am not a toy!» Tired of being squeezed, the mask finally declared. «Treat me gently. I am your friend from now on.»
Flora had never had a friend before.