Rhianon-7. Queen of Vinor. Natalie Yacobson

lightly. Rhianon felt the touch, though she did not see the speaker. It was exciting and unsettling at the same time. He seemed to be leaning over her right now. And there was already a knock at the door.

      «Come, they’re waiting for you,» he announced, as if she didn’t know it yet.

      Rhianon took one last look in the mirror. She was too pale. The white gown embroidered with pearls and the white myrtle in her hair accentuated the deadly whiteness of her skin. And her golden eyebrows and eyelashes look like painted ones against her. Is this what an angel should look like? More like a marble statue. Rhianon reached for the jars of blush, but someone seemed to have intercepted her spirit. She had barely touched it, and the blush had scattered all over the lace tablecloths in a sea of glitter.

      «And yet you’re perfect,» the same spirit whispered in her ear. «The world has never seen a prettier queen. I mean both your world and ours. Don’t take a harpy with you to the ceremony, she’ll ruin it.»

      «I’ll do as I please,» she was suddenly angry.

      «Of course, darling,» he answered in a venomous tone, and yet the touch on her fingers was immediately insensible. So he let go of her hand. Rhianon fixed the curls in her forehead. Combined with the white flowers, they looked like pure gold. Indeed, she was beautiful. The whole town would notice it tonight.

      She just didn’t want the pesky spirit to distract her from the ceremony. She already felt awkward enough before the wedding and coronation. She would be entering the Temple. The thought of it made her sick to her stomach. She felt as if she was betraying someone by entering a consecrated place. Here we go, she was already afraid to even call him by his name. What if he flew in? And then what would happen? He will crush Vinor faster than the epidemic, or just throw accusations in the face of the newfound queen. She is a traitor. And she knows it herself. He can show up here and call her that in front of everyone. Without his cloak he is but an angel with wings, no one can see the devil’s grief in his eyes. And who would be right, he or she?

      Rhianon bit her lips nervously. How easily he could have ruined her. Even without sorcery, he could ruin her plans with his mere appearance. If he was jealous of her, he would do so. And if he loved her, he wouldn’t. She had little faith in love. Far more important is desire, especially for the devil. Once satisfied, he can forget forever. Besides, if there is no beautiful body, there is no love. She herself could not fall in love with one of the burnt monsters in his army. So what if they used to be the most beautiful angels, but now they are disgusting. Neither would Ferdinand have offered her to be his queen had he not found her the most beautiful girl in the world. Now of course she could have tinted her face with talcum powder and rouge and lined her lips with carmine, but she decided to leave it as it was. The angelic pallor suited her better.

      She had already had an elegant wreath made of gold, adorned with large pearls and sapphires. The cooler shades suited her very well. In the past she would have been glad of ice-colored stones and white brocade woven with flowers, but now she longed for something scarlet. What a pity her new crown lacked rubies.

      A drop of blood appeared on her lips, but it was not the usual scarlet color, just the warmth of it. Rhianon tried to brush it away, but only smeared it on her lower lip.

      «That’s good,» the spirit whispered approvingly. «At least your lips look a little pink.»

      «Yes, now, shut up,» she demanded.

      «For how long is it?» His voice was mocking as usual.

      «Till tonight.»

      He snorted disapprovingly, but obeyed the order. She wondered how long his patience would last.

      Rhianon unfurled the puffy ruffles around her shoulders. Made of lace, they still looked like a cloud of eiderdown, a setting worthy of a queen. Gold lace ran along the embroidered sleeves, the tight corset was embroidered with a floral pattern, and the long belt was embellished with filigree. There was no hint that she was pregnant. The very thought of it seemed strange to her. She didn’t feel anything foreign brewing inside her. On the contrary, the fire inside was only a part of her being. Perhaps it wasn’t a child, but just a sheaf of her own flame. She would breathe it out burning the castle and there would be nothing left inside either. They were futile dreams. Rhianon knew that the seed of the fallen angel would not simply be disposed of. It was already forming into a living and omnipotent being, but her waist was still thin. Otherwise Ferdinand would hardly have decided to marry her. Who would want a pregnant bride? And Madael? Would he fly here to claim her and the child if he knew the child was his? Oh, by the way, did he know that? Rhianon had no one to ask. Well, when you look at it from all angles, how could he not know? He’s omniscient. Could such a small but significant detail have escaped his perception? And if he knew, why didn’t he insist on his rights until now? Surely he wants this child, doesn’t he? Does he want it? Or hadn’t he even considered the possibility of having one?

      He complained that he was lonely. Rhianon remembered. He had said that he had always been lonely, even there in paradise, when he had been considered a favorite of God. Was his loneliness here on earth even more palpable? He also said that he had missed love long ago before the beginning of time. How strange and cruel, everyone knew him as the favorite of the Almighty, and he felt no one needed him. When there is no love, you are alone even in the noisiest society. Now Rhianon felt it for herself. Enthusiastic crowds had gathered around her, and the nobles were also preparing to rejoice. Everyone was greeting her, throwing the same unfailing flowers at her feet, surrounding her with attention, and she felt so lonely. She was miserable.

      That would soon pass when she got Loretta back into her possession. How much she had sacrificed for it, though if she looked closely, there was not much to sacrifice.

      Now she even missed the annoying spirit. She wished he would have distracted her with some sharp remark.

      «You look like you’re going to the scaffold,» he whispered. Rhianon saw the bales of discarded flowers on the carpeted path, though no one had stepped on them. Her invisible companion was there. And he promised to keep quiet until tonight.

      «But you wanted to hear me,» he excused himself. «You were the one who called me.»

      His voice was much nicer than the hymns and chants in the cathedral. Rhianon wrinkled painfully when she heard them. Her ears felt as if they were about to bleed. The only thing that saved her was Ferdinand’s arm, which she could lean on. He was handsome in his white brocade embroidered with pearls. And yet he was no angel. Not Madael. Rhianon hastily looked away from his chiseled profile. She wasn’t even sure how old he was. He looked eighteen at most. The wreath of myrtle in his short, curly curls accentuated his fresh youth. Only there, in the cathedral, would he wear the formal crown. For Rhianon’s sake he had briefly abandoned the observance of tradition. It turns out he is also flighty. It was hard to believe he already had two children she had yet to meet. Rhianon preferred not to think about it yet.

      She also tried not to think about the fact that there was only a man walking down the aisle beside her. This wedding was in every way a breach of tradition. Ferdinand was leading her forward by himself. There were no best men or bridesmaids, only the uniformly dressed blue brocade maidens carrying her train. Bouquets of white lilies adorned the entrance. Why lilies? Their persistent scent and memories made Rhianon so dizzy she almost fainted. Perhaps she thought she saw Asmodeus’ black claws and mocking eyes behind the lush flowers in the shadow of the nave. He is the harbinger of misfortune. Rhianon shuddered. Maybe she just imagined he was here.

      «He’s not the only one,» the spirit whispered behind her shoulder. «The cathedral is always full of them.»

      «But how…» «That’s not what religion teaches. It wasn’t that at all.

      «And how can people know anything,» the companion said instantly.

      He did. Rhianon was hurt by the sight of the lilies.

      – «You’d better look up on the North Ridge,» the spirit advised her.

      She turned swiftly,