Название | Dragon’s Empire – 4. Rose for dragon |
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Автор произведения | Natalie Yacobson |
Жанр | Приключения: прочее |
Серия | |
Издательство | Приключения: прочее |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn | 9785005603012 |
I was angry like never. Even Percy, kindly having met me at the gate of the capital and who offered me a horse, so as not to search the city on feet, just in case he went aside, barely had time to transfer reins to me. It’s good that he accounted for my desire, before I hacked the first stable. In such a mood, as now, I was capable of everything. I hid a clawed hand in the folds of the raincoat, but the horse, even though it was a punished elf, frightened snapped under me. Such rider did not please everyone, because if I did not find my rival, then I could tear the throat of any animal which would be near me.
I caught up I was looking for in a deserted and dark street. A black cloak was waving behind me, claws on my hand were hot and burned. Light moon. My opponent left the horse in a paid stable and now he was looking for an opened tavern. From the tavern, where he had time to look before, he was lured out by one of my fairies – a beautiful, winged, deft intriguer, she was ready in everything to help the emperor. In the castle, he was going to go during the day. Interestingly, he thought, having seen a rider with a dazzling and white skin that it was the personification of the angel of death. I didn’t have time to read his thoughts. The rage took a lot of strength, including the magical.
«Who you are?» he whispered and barely backed out of the road. In the voice, it was clearly distinguished the fright, a relatively reverent thrill in front of the highest sign.
«You know the old proverb «At midnight on the city streets rides death?» I asked in an inspected tone and took out a hand with the golden claws from the cloak. He did not even have time to scream. The sharp claws dug in an unprotected throat. Blood was applied along the embroidered collar, and my rage began to cool. I left the corpse right on the pavement. In the same way, I once left my bloody messages to Odil on the tracks of the royal forest. Only this time the message was intended not only to her. I tore to pieces the shirt on a dead body and wrote with sharp claws on his chest my note. Unlike paper, the skin was torn and bled, but the scratched letters turned out to be more or less smooth. The famous stamp, just a few words «the one you remember,» should have said a lot not only to Odil, but also to Rose.
Somewhere in the distance there was a fight of tower chimes. This sound was supposed to be the last thing that the victim heard before his death, but the clock was late or simply, I had too hurried. Remembering that the horse of the murdered remained in the stable, I headed there. Percy, hidden around the corner with the charming winged patriot, did not even try to delay me. I remembered how Chimera killed the horse of Francesca, just also, I scratched the throat on someone else’s horse and those who were stupid enough to regret it. Calmly stand in the stalls were only those who recognized in me the strongest than everyone who still gave orders.
I left, leaving a bloody trail. A hand who took a normal look was much more pleasant without the heavy claws, but even on smooth skin remained blood. There was a big noise in the city. Percy, who remained to post the events, then reported to me. He was always interested in the scandalous news, especially when he himself knew who had caused an alarm. There was much gossip and people built assumptions. Odil also knew who was to blame of the alarm, or rather guessed, reading the bloody letter. And Rose even if she was not allowed to approach the crime scene, for sure, heard news from the courtiers. I was sure that she had enough intelligence to connect the details of the puzzle. She compared the facts and guessed that this was her mysterious friend who did her a next service.
I doubt that Rose wanted to drop a curtsy before her parents chosen one. With such a very self-will, it would be preferable to make a choice unassisted, and she did it. She chose the worst of all evils.
Neglecting the arguments of the reason, as soon as it was dark, I went again to a familiar window. It was very high necessary by the moat, and was not available for the one who could not fly, as Rose herself had already noticed in her diary. Usually, the windows were hospitably open, but this time someone closed them, and before the glass put the lead binding. Shantel guessed too quickly, even Vincent did not suspect me and she already has suspected something. I decided to turn into a golden winged snake.
As soon as Rose entered the bedroom, she immediately opened the window and pushed the binding. She waited for me, but saw on the windowsill only the thing that it was promised to her for a long time – my theater’s mask. I managed to drop easily it up the edge of the wing, so that Rose probably thought it seemed that the subject was materialized from the air. I knew that now Rose spins a mask in her hands and wants to ask some questions. I really wanted to look at her, because this visit could be the last. I broke off from the wall to which I was pressed and flew up the window’s level. Rose was amazed. She opened her mouth from surprise, but the words were frozen on her lips. She saw in front of her a very beautiful golden creature. Only here the dragon was not so harmless as a sea skate. Another girl at the place of Rose awarded such a spectacle only if she was chosen as my next victim. But Rose, as I have already noticed, was special. Too bold to call for help, she firmly pressed the mask and silently, but with interest looked at such an unusual phenomenon.
The creature from another world waved the wings and disappeared, and Rose did not move away from the window.
I went down to the inner courtyard with a certain goal. The sentries that looked down from the bastions would see in front of them just a nobleman, which could visit the castle or consist in the king’s retinue. A deep well, filled with water, would help the winged snake in a moment to disappear, diving deep into and emerging already in the nearest river. In the courtyard there was only one thin and rather strange boy. The one I was looking for. It was a boy with burnt skin. He deftly attributed his misfortune to what he tanned while he traveled around the desert, but even with such cunning, like his, he could not cope with envious competitors. Musicians who were long at the court did not want to endure a novice. Now that the case took the most serious turnover, Harry ran away from the feast room and thought over his failures alone. More precisely, he thought about where he was going to go now.
He even put out the lantern so that no one could prevent him. It was inconvenient to go to a person if he would be alone, but maybe I was exactly that whom Harry had long expected.
He felt someone touched his shoulder, but when he turned around, I was already far from him. By joyfully burning of his eyes, it was immediately possible to understand that a meeting with an unearthly creature was a miracle that he dreamed of many years.
«Monseigneur… Your Majesty..,» Harry was confused, obviously not knowing how to contact me.
«Only monseigneur is enough,» I allowed graciously. «Your Majesty» sounds in my opinion too pompously, besides in the country where there is already one king.»
«Besides, there are too many kings, but they have no of your power to be completely taken,» Harry picked up. He obviously knew a lot or managed to ask.
«Who told you about me?» I asked, although I already knew the answer in advance.
«They,» Harry glanced at the illuminated window. There was a workshop of six spinners.
«You are in a difficult situation, Harry. In general, like any minstrel. It seems not the servant, and not the courtier. So there is something between an artist and a temporary job seeker.
«If I found Mr. like you, to whom I could serve constantly,» Harry said deftly. He himself rushed to service, so why I did not invite him.
«That’s just what are you suitable for? Do you have any special talent, which is not useless for the owner like I.»
«For example?»
I clicked my fingers, carving a spark of fire, of which