Swan and Dragon. Dragon Empire. Natalie Yacobson

forest with their singing. Bullfinches pecked at rare rowan berries. One bright red cross pecked at a pine cone.

      “Where are we going?” Rose tried to start a conversation again.

      “To the castle,” the companion answered shortly.

      “You mean there is a castle in this wilderness?”

      Edwin looked at her with surprised, twinkling eyes.

      “There should be a castle,” he explained in the same laconic way. “What kind of state is it without a castle?”

      “What other state?” Rose asked in a whisper. The unknown frightened her the most.

      The attendant lowered his head sadly.

      “You want to know too much,” he chided.

      “No more than I’m allowed to,” Rose immediately retorted. “Everyone has the right to face their fears. After I was not even allowed to make excuses, it is not surprising that I am afraid of making a mistake. You are not the Golden Sovereign to chastise me.”

      He was not even offended. On the contrary, mischievous sparks flashed in his eyes.

      “You don’t have to be a flying monster to crush people’s hopes,” he said with secular nonchalance. And yet there was something in his words that it made her blood run cold. Some kind of invisible magic enveloped Edwin. In his manner and strange modulation of his voice, inhuman power was guessed. One gesture was enough for the distrustful, fearful tit, as if bewitched, to fly off the branch and sit in his palm. He stroked the yellowish head, and the bird chirped happily.

      Now his hand is normal again. As if there was no plate inserted into the flesh. Rose studied Edwin for a long time. Even in the light of day, he looked like an unearthly creature. He sat next to her, real, alive, and at the same time remained distant and unattainable, like a radiant image of a saint in the corner of a darkened picture.

      “We’ll be here soon,” he said, letting go of the titmouse. It chirped goodbye and soared into the air. Edwin followed her flight.

      “How do you do it?” Rose could not resist.

      “What?”

      “To command animals and birds.”

      He just shrugged his shoulders, making it clear that he himself could not explain it.

      “Who are you?” The princess gasped. The amazement and fright that sounded in her voice. gave this question an almost mystical meaning.

      “You want to know not only about this,” Edwin warned the next questions, “you are interested in who really is a humpbacked sorcerer? Where did the dark power come from over the vaults of the chateau? Why were you tried for other people’s crimes, and how did you manage to escape punishment? And, after all, you want to know who the Wind Singer is.”

      “Wind Singer?” Rose asked in surprise.

      “He is also called the Golden Lord. The dragon has always been revered and feared. He keeps humanity at bay, and the fairy people submit to him. This zwergs called the whistle of flight a song. When the dragon’s wings cut through the air masses, then it really can be called the Wind Singer.

      The forest in the white lace of snow was left behind. The sled was rushing along the narrow road. Rose did not notice how dark it was. A minute ago it was day, and now the horn of the month was silvery in the black sky. The snowdrifts rose like a single wall over the edges of the road. Now one, now another snowflake flashed with a bright fire, like precious stones.

      The charioteer whipped the horses mercilessly, and they rushed forward with an arrow, in spite of their fatigue.

      “Look!” Edwin ordered, pointing forward.

      Rose looked up and saw the valley. Whirlwinds blew over her. The carpet of fluffy snow glittered as if a myriad of small diamonds had been mixed with it. And in the very center of the snow-covered valley stood a gloomy and majestic castle. Even from here one could see impregnable bastions, semicircles of observation openings, towers resembling chess rooks.

      The horses ran even faster. The fortress, which adorned the snow with a dark crown, attracted them like a magnet. Rosa herself gazed with admiration at the outer wall, which encircled the entire grandiose structure with a stone ribbon. The loopholes of the powerful barbican gaped empty. The lowering grates lifted by themselves, allowing the sled to rush through the gate and, letting it pass, immediately returned to its former position.

      Torches blazed brightly in the castle courtyard. An unusual palisade is located near the walls. Rose shuddered, noticing that each stake was crowned with a severed, human head, or what was left of it.

      The horses beat furiously with their hooves. Rose jumped out of the sleigh and wanted to stroke the nape of the most beautiful snow-white horse.

      “Caution!” Edwin warned. He was already standing behind, stepping up silently like a shadow. “They are not horses at all and, besides, they are very ferocious.”

      The horses calmed down a little, sensing the approach of their master. It seems that apart from him and the driver, they no longer obeyed anyone. Even after a long journey, these extraordinary animals still had so much strength that they could smash the whole city over the stones. How wildly and ominously their eyes sparkled in the bloody glow of smoking torches. How they longed to break the bridles and trample under their hooves anyone who met them on their way. But they were afraid of Edwin. What could scare them so much in this handsome, seemingly fragile youth. Is that his equanimity, the complete absence of human feelings in the huge blue eyes and the proud bearing of the prince.

      The most cocky of the horses grinned viciously at Rosa. Then he turned a plaintive, obsequious glance to his master, as if wishing to warn about something. More consciously than hearing Rose caught three words, alternating with horse snoring.

      “She’s your enemy!”

      “Take them to the stable,” Edwin ordered to the driver.

      Rose went up to her horse, which was rubbing fearfully behind the sled, and untied the knot with its meager belongings from the saddle.

      “Let’s go to!” Edwin took her hand and pulled her toward the tall, cast-iron doors covered with intricate ornamentation. The door ring was attached to the copper head of a lion, with its mouth wide open and empty eye sockets.

      The doors opened smoothly, without the slightest creak. Behind them lay a gloomy hall. But as soon as Edwin stepped through the threshold, all the candles in the numerous candelabra flashed as one. The magical world of ghostly mirrors, purple carpets and silent sculptures appeared before Rose. The marble goddesses stood in the shadows. Tall stained-glass windows shimmered with all the colors of the rainbow. Pictures and portraits hung on the walls in heavy, patterned frames. A wide front staircase led upstairs.

      It was not only wealth and luxury that amazed. Simply, everything here seemed to be alive. Emerald bats hid behind paintings. The sculptures sometimes changed positions and curtsies. Magic was dormant in every corner. All the shining magic of this castle was subject to only one person – its mysterious, golden-haired master.

      The chimes announced the approach of midnight. At the last blow, Edwin perked up. He scanned the lobby and the closed doors with an anxious gaze, as if expecting an intruder.

      “My time is running out,” he whispered under his breath. “In a few minutes I must leave, otherwise the irreparable will happen. If you only knew what ties I have with the rooms of this castle and the empire that stretches beyond it.”

      There is nothing but dense forests, Rose wanted to say, but for some reason she kept silent. She ran up the stairs after Edwin. They walked through galleries and covered passages, past columns and knightly armor whitening in the dark.

      Edwin opened the door of a room, lit all the candles in it with a wave of his hand, and turned to look at Rose.

      “Stay