Rhianon – Princess of Fire. Natalie Yacobson

We’re nearly there!» She involuntarily reached for the dart she had hidden in her boot.

      «Hey, are you trying to tell me you don’t trust me after the way I saved your life back at the tavern?» The escort, who had evidently noticed that she was drawing her weapon somehow, became alarmed. God, aren’t there eyes on his back?

      «Saving mtis life is an overstatement,» Rhianon corrected him; she didn’t like to be obligated to anyone, much less such a strange-looking fellow.

      «You mean the King’s soldiers didn’t scare you?» He tried to crack a joke.

      «What king is this?» Rhianon involuntarily broke out in a huff and no longer felt cold even as she struggled to contain the heat and fire that was coursing through her veins. That’s how others were warmed by the wine they drank. She leaned tiredly against a tree trunk. Is it any wonder that the mention of impostors and regents infuriates the only legitimate heir? It was a truth she could explain to no one without losing her head.

      «I wasn’t serious,» her companion suddenly realized he’d overreacted and sprang back toward her, «just don’t get upset.»

      His skinny hands tried to touch her shoulders, but Rhianon recoiled. A man’s hands would never be like that, she was sure of that.

      «We should continue on our way.»

      «Yes, of course,» she nodded and tried to push his palms away from her. She could see the sudden twist in his face, and she noticed that he leaned down so that his eyes were hidden by the brim of his hat. Of course she had burned him. And now he tried to hide the burn from her and from himself, though an itchy stain was already spreading over his long, dead-white hand. Did he realize that it was she who had burned him with her touch? People usually didn’t understand. Rarely did anyone realize that it was dangerous to be around her. And few were willing to believe that the fragile princess could incinerate anyone, and then she herself could stand there in bewilderment to see what, in its own words, had happened and why the recent interlocutor now writhing in agony at her feet. Victims rarely suspected anything, and Rhianon burned many. Not that her conscience particularly tormented her when she managed to light the clothes on a negligent guard, or the hair on a lord’s eavesdropping footman, or cause a blaze of fire in the fireplace when the discussions in the throne room reached their limits. Her only regret was that her tiny talent was too insignificant to conquer an entire kingdom. To do little mischief yes, but to assert her own rights to the throne – that with a pair of miraculously lit candles she simply could not do. Yes, if she were to return suddenly, all the candelabras would erupt when she entered the hall and the flames would whisper something in the fireplace, but it would hardly be enough even the heavenly fire itself so that all her enemies would be dead, all the rebellious subdued, and the throne already occupied by an arbitrary regent would be vacant. And to have an army of demons at her back, with only she could control, and powerful supporters, and inexhaustible power. To get her goal, all methods are good.

      Yes, that was her dream. Why be hypocritical or overly noble when others in her country had long ago abandoned nobility. It would be good to defeat them with the same weapons they had used more than once. If only she could, if only her tiny gift would eventually flare up to the point where it would be enough for any exploit. And to take back a kingdom as powerful as Loretta was no mere feat, not even a theme worthy of the tales and legends of the people. Bringing Loretta back was like turning the whole world upside down.

      If only some powerful demon had supposed her help in this, she would have agreed to anything. But all that stood before her was a skinny, buffoonish ghost. He could be compared to a petty demon, a jester spirit, or just a mischievous ghost. Most likely now he would lead her into the swamp and that would be the end of their little nighttime adventure.

      «Shall we go?» He was clearly nervous and was pushing her to where.

      «Are we late for the ball?» she asked irritably, for he had torn her away from all the hard thinking she’d done over and over in her head to make her own strategy, and every time for nothing. It was easier just to watch the falling leaves dance and think about nothing. «You’re in a hurry to get me to a night coven or any other feast of the damned, where everyone expects a man as a treat, and you bring him.

      «Well, yeah, a lot of people have a feast of sorts,» he answered evasively, «but that’s none of our business. Fairies have balls every day, but we’ve never been invited.»

      «Speak for you,» said Rhianon, eyeing his frail and lanky build with disdain. She herself boasted a good – too good – build that often drew attention from men and women alike. In any case, both dreamed of dancing with her, and not just dancing. It was a pity that real balls with quick dances in the castle happened quite seldom. More often it was unhurried movement under the sluggish music of minstrels, moreover, burdened with a heavy dress. And the partners most often were not those she herself had chosen. The castle had lately become a prison. There everyone chose for her, from the page carrying her train and ending even the groom. So now she was no longer in the castle. The fresh air and smells of the forest should have cheered her up, for it was the scent of freedom, but for some reason Rhianon was afraid. Everything about this corner of the forest was somehow wrong, not to mention a very unusual escort.

      And yet she kept following him, warily looking around. Everything about her was unnecessarily frightening, and most suspicious of all was the long, nimble figure looming up ahead. Perhaps it was stupid to be afraid, though. She had nothing to lose, that’s for sure. She’d already lost everything. It was her whole kingdom. Everything was now a stranger. She could only be glad that her head was still on her shoulders, as the minstrel who had once joked outside her tower window. He, too, had only the wind in his pockets and a harp, and he used to sit for hours under her tower, especially during sunset. Yes, her head was indeed still on her shoulders, and perhaps that was something to be glad about, but her conscience would not allow it. What good is that preserved head if there is nothing else at all.

      «Do you think it would be much better if the natives deprived you of your mind?»

      The voice didn’t come through; she was probably just imagining it. No one would be out there in the nighttime woods. Suddenly it was a woman’s squeaky voice, like a tiny fairy perched on the nearest driftwood.

      And yet there was a point to what was being said. Rhianon knew from the tales of bards and the frequent arrivals at the castle gates that an encounter with fairy folk could drive a man mad. It was to be believed. In the castle, even the most innocuous spell had the power to take the mind of any court lady or gentleman. It often happened. Someone was thus deprived of an enemy, but sometimes there were occasional casualties. That’s the worst thing about witchcraft, you never know what powers you might summon and against whom they might turn.

      You wouldn’t want to meet a creature that would drive you insane without even noticing it. Or maybe it was worth the risk, to see if everything was as they said.

      Rhiannon looked around carefully. There was nothing but fallen foliage, tree stumps, and bare branches that weaved an intricate lace overhead so that the sky was barely visible. There was no movement, not even a remote hint that anyone was around, and yet her senses could not deceive her. There was life bubbling nearby. And it didn’t matter that there was silence all around. Even the sounds of an entire civilization could not excite her as much as what she felt.

      «Come, come, we’re almost there,» her companion urged her on and on. He must have said that a hundred times, as if he believed that his words would determine how quickly they reached her.

      «What is it?» As the forest landscape in front of them began to change into a cave-like darkness, Rhianon became worried.

      «They are only abandoned mines,» said the companion nonchalantly, walking hurriedly down the rocky steps in the darkness of the cave. – Wouldn’t you like to find gold down there? You said you wanted to believe in luck.

      «Wait, that wasn’t our agreement,» she didn’t want to go with him