“Remember, you promised to grow new houses for us,” Cypress, the most sensible of the dryads, returned to the problem at hand.
“Of course, if I promised, I’ll do it,” I began to think about where it would be better to grow new trees for them to live in: right here on the burned grass or further away from here and closer to the forests.
“Where’s Perla?” I’m missing an azure nymph.
“She’s taken up residence in the shell-shaped fountain in your greenhouse,” Palma explained. “I would have taken up residence there too, but there’s nowhere to put down roots. I don’t want to ruin the castle parquet.”
I nodded.
“There’s a peach grove nearby and a beautiful lake behind it, and I think there’s plenty of room for everyone to plant a new tree. And the climate there is wonderful, I mean magical, both palms and birches will take root.”
Bamboo, bored, made a fan of her leaves, waved it around and nodded enthusiastically.
“Well, take us there,” she suggested.
Take us there? Do they really want me to turn into a dragon right in front of them and put them on my scaly back? Did the sight of a moonlit arsonist turn them off dragons at all? Somehow I didn’t even want to think about turning right now, but my night mistresses were waiting, and I couldn’t say no to them. If they wanted to fly on a dragon’s back and prick themselves on its sharp scales once in a lifetime, then so be it.
Dream of a Rose
I dreamed that Rose and I were getting married again. This time everything was as it should be. The chapel was in the castle, not on the moors. Lighted candles in floor candelabras cast in the shape of sirens that came to life and could replace the wedding choir with their singing if they wanted to. Pixies dance on the stained glass windows. There are no other guests because Rose doesn’t like her family, and I have no family at all. The last thought makes me feel better for some reason for the first time. It’s scary when the rotting dead rise from their graves and come to a wedding, even if it’s in a dream. Though perhaps what was missing here was a half-rotting but festively dressed Florian who had risen from the ground overnight.
Yes, we were married at night, just as we had been last time, but it suited our tradition, unlike mortal rites. For the first time we wore real wedding clothes, pure white. In reality I had never dressed up in snow-white brocade, but in my dream it really suited me. The white color set off the crown perfectly, which I didn’t normally wear either. Except that Rose’s wedding dress looked a little old-fashioned. Such outfits with wide sleeves and a simple bodice were worn by ladies to jousting tournaments a couple hundred years ago. I’ve never seen such cuts since. The train was too long, flowing like a cloud across the floorboards. A gold sash with dragon-head pendants hung loosely just below her waist. I couldn’t see Rose’s face clearly, only her dark curls, her lashes bent upward, and the long gold earrings in her ears – the only jewelry on the bride, aside from the sash. The earrings were unusual – two small dragon-like serpents coiled in the branches of roses. Only an unearthly jeweler could have made them. The snakes didn’t come to life or move, but they looked both beautiful and threatening.
I put my arm around Rose’s waist to get a better look at them. The thick veil was in my way. I wanted to pull it away from Rose’s face. Suddenly someone’s claws were at her shoulder level. Not my claws, but dragon claws, too. They waited a second, and then they grabbed both gold pendants and easily ripped the earrings from her ears. It was just a moment, and only blood was left on the veil. I had no time to do anything, nor could I.
It was only a dream.
In the library at the castle, there were several puffy volumes on dreams written by humans. Percy had taken them with him after some town had been ravaged by magical creatures and brought them to my library. They’d taken root here, and their bindings looked a little different, but that didn’t change the fact that they’d come here from human hoards. But I didn’t care anymore. I was eager to learn something from the human books, since I couldn’t from the magical ones.
I had to get to such a point, to look up the meaning of a dream in the books of mortals! It was probably more useful to them, who didn’t know my powers, but I felt a little ashamed.
This is it! The dwarf, temporarily appointed curator here, showed me the right volume. The book itself opened at the right chapter.
Spouses are remarried in a dream, it is a divorce. Well, it’s already happened! We’re already divorced! This dream is way overdue! What kind of prophecy is this that’s sent retroactively? Prophetic dreams are usually made in absentia, not after the event they predicted has already happened. Something doesn’t add up here. Maybe there’s another interpretation of the same symbols?
What else is there? I read a whole list of interpretations, but none of them fit. But the pages of the book suddenly slipped out of my fingers and opened on the article “earrings”. The meanings were also numerous, but only one thing stressed me out. To pluck earrings from someone’s ears meant to take the place of a rival. In my dreams, someone’s glistening claws ripped the earrings out of Rose’s ears. Someone wants to take her place? Well, it’s free. You don’t have to take anything away from her.
“It is except your heart,” whispered a voice from the book. I’d forgotten that all the books in here can talk. If you get caught up in reading them, you can hear voices, and the bindings on the binding fold into the shape of talking lips.
“My heart is sort of sank,” I reminded myself of the night with the dryads. I felt a little uncomfortable remembering how much fun I’d had.
“Do you want to know the difference between giving your heart and giving your body?”
“I haven’t felt passion for anyone in hundreds of years, if we’re having this conversation,” though it was silly to talk about such things with a book. What does it know about me?
“And you’ve never been intimate with mortal beauties?”
“Of course it is not. I’ve never even been close to fairies.”
“You know how to start a fire with one breath, but you don’t know what passion is?” A little voice boomed out.
“Is it passion, like people have for each other?” I wiggled my golden eyebrows expressively. “I’m ashamed to admit it, but I don’t know.”
“And you didn’t enjoy last night with the sorceresses, didn’t you?”
“That’s right.”
“And you want to know the power of passion for human women and the pleasure of being with them.”
To forget Rose?
“I suppose I do.”
“Well, is there one way, shall I tell you?”
I nodded discreetly. The lips on the binding spoke to me, and I replied politely. What had loneliness brought me to? I had little faith in the voices from the pages before, but now I was suddenly indulging them. When the beady lips gave me another piece of advice, I decided to follow it.
To take communion in blood
To ignite a man’s passion, one need only drink from a marvelous cup. The bas-reliefs on it are hung in the form of human and winged bodies. This is what happens when two races come together: human and magical. At the bottom of the thicket, gems grew from the bottom like droplets. From them came a quiet whisper and a glow. Any elixir that you splash on them would immediately acquire one special quality from their influence. But I decided to be on the safe side. The infusion was made for me in the now-abandoned