Natalie Yacobson
Translator Natalia Lilienthal
© Natalie Yacobson, 2022
© Natalia Lilienthal, translation, 2022
ISBN 978-5-0056-9499-7 (т. 4)
ISBN 978-5-0056-8618-3
Created with Ridero smart publishing system
Flower and Weapon
Raising the purple curtain, Rhianon watched the battle from his marching tent. Madael had positioned it on a steep cliff so that she could see everything. Rhianon had wanted it that way herself. She’d developed a keen sense of sight. His abilities were partially transferred to hers, as if they had truly become one being. They were a princess and an angel. She wondered who was bossing who. Rhianon saw the carnage and the power of her chosen one. His hand in the gleaming gauntlet that artfully clutched his sword was feared by all. The unknown warrior’s power in battle knew no equal, and she could control him. She was the fragile golden-haired girl. She could give him orders. Love is a powerful weapon. He would obey her. Rhianon felt herself an evil genius. It turns out that she is the demon, not him. She shook her curls stubbornly. She loves him, not uses him. And how could anyone not love him.
“But you play him, as God played him before you; he too thought himself a benefactor, and his favorite, but made only a toy,” whispered someone’s poisonous voice in her ear. “Kill yourself and then you would set him free. He would have cast off his chains if it were not for you. You are his last chain and his strongest. If you are gone, he will be free.”
Black claws playfully touched the earring in her ear, rocking the sapphire pendant in a way that made Rhianon feel pain. She did not know who was speaking to her, but she heard a low hiss and smelled burning. Her nostrils flared. She was familiar with that stench of fire and ashes.
“Why did you come? He’ll chase you away again,” she said without turning around. She was afraid, on the one hand, that the black claws would snap her neck, and on the other she was disgusted to look at him.
“No, don’t tell him I was here,” the voice warned. “I was on my way out. I only wanted to advise you what’s best for the one we both love.”
“Oh, yes, he told me of the manifestations of your love.”
“So he did,” the claws that caressed her earlobe broke off for a moment. “And he didn’t mention that I was considered his best friend up there in Heaven, his comrade-in-arms…”
Rhianon was wary, what a greedy voice. He would have eaten her and him alive if he could. But he did not have the strength.
“Apparently he doesn’t value friendship as much as many to mention it.”
“So he didn’t say. Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“What’s in the past is in the past.”
“Like that boy Ron you’ve already forgotten,” his voice became husky. “Do you think the others have the same short memory?”
“Don’t you dare touch Ron,” she tried to sound stern, but her tone was frightened.
“Maybe I wouldn’t. He’s already dead.”
“Why is it?” She was really scared now.
“You’re like a chain, a golden chain.” He wrapped his claws around her strands and tugged lightly, obviously enjoying the effect he was having. “You’re a handicap to women and men alike when you’re in their lives. It makes you like us, the way we used to be. It captivates Madael. You know him by that name, don’t you?”
Perhaps he implied that she was not as close to him as he was to know all his names, including the secret ones. Rhianon was not taken aback by this.
“Passion is a nice chain. But you kill everyone you feel it for because you are afraid they will become your fetters.”
“I don’t have to worry about me anymore. All I care about is him.”
“Since when did you become so protective?”
“I’ve always protected him. I’m his chief warrior and bodyguard, you sissy. Do you understand?”
He tugged her strands tighter, but Rhianon didn’t cry out as he’d hoped. Proximity to Madael had softened all her sensations, and the pain was an almost forgotten feeling.
“That’s why he was ignoring it. You protected him so well that you let him lose and fall.”
“It wasn’t my fault.” He could have taken umbrage, but he knew that she would turn on him before he could turn on her.
Rhianon felt the hoop press against her forehead, and her curls felt as if they were moving on their own and becoming golden snakes. No, it was all an illusion. She pulled herself together.
“You’re being kind. Since when were you being kind?”
“Ever since I saw that my idol and leader, once he was free of some bonds, was already climbing into other ones. I am only guarding the honor of my leader, belle. I want to serve a god, not a prisoner.”
“He would be a god if he didn’t take you into his ranks.”
“All right, that’s enough. You know you’ve become a burden to him. God sent you to him as punishment, he couldn’t get it or get it back himself, so he chained you, little fire witch. You are his new chain.”
“No. I am his flower. I am the first beautiful and desirable thing he saw on this earth.”
The battle went on, and they continued to bicker. Now the battle would come to a close and Madael would burst into the tent. What would happen if he saw them together? Would he bring the fire to the writhing black puddle of slime again? Or would he do something more terrifying? Rhianon felt the satisfaction of such a beastly thought. It turns out she really is getting bad. Perhaps she should. Only the bad can defend themselves against demons, and the innocent will believe their evil speeches and lay hands on themselves. He wanted to lead her to do just that. He was offering her a stiletto or a dart.
“You need to disappear, and not just run away, but die. Then he will free himself and fight without fear of anything happening to his ward. All lovers are weak. They have something to lose. You don’t want to make him that weak.”
“No,” she answered with a quiet, fiery gasp. A trickle of fire shot upward, and the tent canopy nearly burst into flames. But the black creature backed away from it. I could see it was afraid of fire, too.
“There just lies a knife, take it, bring it to your beautiful chest or wrist. It’s cruel, I know, especially for someone as beautiful as you, but at least you’ll never know old age or a slow, painful death from disease. If you think fire will keep you from wrinkles, you doubt very much. Let him remember you more as young and beautiful than as old and sick. You will be gone from his eternal life, but you will remain a flower in his memory. Believe me, he will have no other lover but you, dead you will take his loyalty to the grave, but his hands will be untied and he will fight like a lion…” the vile laughter was already drowning in the darkness of the tent behind her. “Die and you will set him free. Hurry, he’ll be back soon. The knife is on the table.”
Rhianon turned around. Behind her, only the darkness was dissipating. Clouds of blue-black smoke floated toward the ceiling, giving off a hint of ash and an odor of burning. She was frightened. The knife on the table was really there, calling to her. It made her want to hide it somewhere. It was a singing steel. Madael had told her about dwarves forging such. Only this time it wasn’t the blade that sang, but something malevolent enveloped it. The sharpness frightened now more than the steepest mountain peak. No height could compare to that fear. Rhianon looked at the battle unfolding below. Not even the swords and spears and darts hurling there made such a frightening impression on her.
Why was that damned man coming? Why was he talking about the knife? Why was the cold song of steel beginning to seem so appealing to her?
Rhianon thought she should hide the weapon somewhere far away. It tempted