Rhianon-8. War and Magic. Natalie Yacobson

himself… Douglas had many horrible or noble names swirling on his tongue that were worth calling him: Lucifer, Masemma, Beelzebub…

      «You know my name!» The golden voice came through as if through him. «The one I prefer.»

      «Yes,» Douglas nodded uneasily. He saw his dream so close, and at the same time he was suddenly stung by a sharp sense of disappointment. Was this what he’d been dreaming of lately? If so, he was very close to him. So why was Douglas suddenly looking for different feminine features in his face? Rhianon’s. Why couldn’t she come to him now? Why had Mastema come instead of her? After all, Douglas had been dreaming of nothing but her lately.

      It had taken him some time to realize that the beautiful angel had not come to him with an offer of intimacy.

      «Does your king want me in his army?» His pale lips curved into a sneer that sent a chill down his spine. It was a statement, not a question, and yet Douglas nodded.

      «It is a curious suggestion…»

      Even Douglas’ captive creatures in the cages and corners of the tower chuckled, recognizing the sneer in Dennitsa’s tone. Douglas, on the other hand, did not know where to put his eyes.

      «I promised…»

      «I know it,» the angel interrupted him. «You don’t think there’s anything I don’t know.»

      «Well…» The young man felt like a fool. His idol had deliberately dragged him through the mud, chiding him for his naivety. «I think nothing escapes your attention, Monsignor.»

      «Monsignor,» the beautiful pale lips sneered again. Douglas noticed that the mocking grin bloomed on them like a rose, so beautiful were they. He’d never been a poet, and yet the comparison was self-evident.

      «It’s a funny way of putting it, but I like it…»

      The laughter never came, but in Douglas’s mind it rang, like the clang of gold in a dragon’s cave, deafening yet husky at the same time.

      «It is too low for you,» he murmured fearfully.

      «But it conveys the essence,» his golden lashes lowered suddenly, casting no shadow across his cheeks, only a glow. «I was never the first…»

      He frowned thoughtfully, as if weighing recent memories.

      «No, you are the first, and only you,» Douglas dared to retort, and then he bit his tongue. The hand that had been stroking his curls nearly closed around his throat.

      «She doesn’t think so,» Madael whispered.

      Douglas had no further objections. He remembered Rhianon. The mere sight of her would make everything he had ever lived before vanish in a moment. He could understand Dennitsa, his passion, his love, his self-denial… He was not prepared to lose for her, was he? Douglas was suddenly frightened.

      I love you, he almost said, both of you, and that is the only reason you should not fight. Fight the whole world, but not each other. Why can’t you be against all, but together? But apparently everything had already been decided without his advice. Douglas panicked, and the hand that was clutching him suddenly grew harder. Freeing himself from the statue’s grasp would be much easier than throwing it off.

      «Demand whatever reward you want from your king, little one, for convincing me to take your side.»

      «But…» Douglas was taken aback. The golden voice was like an echo. How tired he was. «If you are with them, you are against her.»

      The very guess stunned him. He stared dumbly at the gorgeous face, as if frozen for a moment. His laughter, which sounded sudden, like the clinking of coins rolling across the floor, completely threw him off balance.

      «She has a husband, if you remember,» the angel reminded him, laughing bitterly. «Or have you finished watching her?»

      The hand that held him against the wall grew even harder. Douglas shrank back.