«What do you mean, my dear?» Ferdinand responded in place of the spirit. She had been as oblivious as ever and had spoken the words to the spirit aloud.
«It is nothing,» she hastened to assure him. Rhianon hoped that Ferdinand would not be aware of her disappointment. He might not understand her, or he might have drawn his own conclusions. He knew about her affair with the demon, after all. And she felt as if she knew nothing. And really, what did she expect to see there, the glint of golden curls and the dazzling ray of angel wings? Did she think that he was sitting there on the roof of one of the cathedrals, immortal, invulnerable and angry? That he would rush down, pick her up, and drag her down with him, like he had done long ago… the very first time.
«That’s exactly what he was going to do,» the spirit said.
«Now, really be quiet,» she called to him mentally. «Let me concentrate. You’re asking me to invite the devil to the wedding. Look, we’re already breaking all the rules. Neither Ferdinand nor I have family or friends here. Only strangers are invited. He’s already broken all the rules.»
«And he’s marrying someone else’s wife,» the spirit eagerly reminded her.
Rhianon wanted to turn around and remind him that she had made no vows to Madael, but she was afraid. What if she saw him behind her, or discerned a winged silhouette on one of the rooftops? It was better to look only forward. Like the flowers beneath her feet. She wondered why people are used to present flowers as a sign of love? They quickly wither? Is it as quickly as fame, youth or love? Love! It’s as if she’s been slashed with a sharp blade. Love is far away. It is in the fringes of heaven, in the cold underworld, or in hell, where exactly now the fallen angel was, she did not know. Perhaps he wandered the mortal world, looking for her, or going to wring her neck. Love and desire for power should not be confused. One day he would understand that.
For the hundredth time, Rhianon wondered why she did what she did. She wondered why she could not have won at a lesser cost. She could have used her ingenuity and sorcery instead of yielding. So why did she do it?
«Yes, because you like a handsome young king, even if he was already married, and you’re also attracted to the idea of becoming queen of Vinor,» the disembodied voice was mocking, but as always it hit the mark.
Yes, she liked Ferdinand, and she wouldn’t mind a kingdom like Vinor, either. In contrast to the flabby body, the empty purse, and the impoverished Duchy of Rothbert, the second offer was too tempting. And she accepted. And now, as in a morass, she walked down the aisle. She feared both revenge and indifference from her former lover. But the main goal of her life, Loretta, was far more important. Let her heart ache. It is supposed to. If it is to be believed that Dennitsa himself laid the foundation for the subsequent betrayals of all lovers on this earth, then they are following a path that has already been beaten. It was meant to be that way. What can you do against fate?
«And yet you could fight it…»
She let the spirit’s words pass her lips. And they didn’t sound any louder than an echo in the dark, airy cathedral. The massiveness of the building overwhelmed her. She felt like a speck of dust lost in outer space. In Madael’s arms she had never felt this way. Though he owned the whole world, it was so warm and cozy with him. The grandiosity of his designs and possessions never pressed her. And the vaults of the cathedral, though stretching to unreachable heights, seemed to close over her head like a tomb. The colored stained-glass windows in the height were beautiful, but they made her eyes sting. Columns of dark marble were lined with white garlands. Rhianon feared that Asmodeus was still hiding behind one of them, but she strode boldly down the nave anyway.
Many people crowded the place, and still the space seemed overwhelmingly large. Mostly the nobility was present. The common people stayed behind the massive doors. Only the most powerful and wealthy people of the kingdom were crowded into the front rows. Rhianon glanced over to see who had caught her talking to the spirit. He was present. He was in even richer robes than before. It was hard to see him in such a crowd. He was squeezed on one side by a number of counselors, and on the other by dressed-up ladies. Still, it was the lily pinned to his buttonhole that caught her eye. He knows, she thought. The flower is a sign to show it to her. Who does he know? She sensed no connection to astrologers or witchcraft.
«Domian, the First Minister,» the same spirit whispered in her ear. «Don’t see that his hair isn’t even gray yet. He’s older than he looks.»
She looked at him briefly, but he caught her gaze and tilted his head in deference. Just like the first time. It was as if he was stalking her and looking for signs of her attention himself, calling out from the crowd, and then happily intercepting her gaze.
She didn’t even have time to be wary. The marriage ceremony had already begun. The coronation would immediately follow. In some distant part of her hearing, she picked up the anxious cries of birds over the cathedral. It was as if they were warning her of something or trying to dissuade her. Such a commotion only came before a storm was coming. Even before an epidemic came to the city the flocks of birds did not seem so anxious.
«No! No! No!» she caught in the birds’ cries outside the windows and the rustle of their wings. There were even a few crows among the disturbed flocks. This seemed strange to her. She had long associated crows with Rothbert’s servants, but these evidently were not. Though who knew them?
She tilted her head so she couldn’t hear them. Still, she thought she could hear more powerful and massive flapping in the fluttering of the tiny bird’s wings. Other wings were flapping over the cathedral, too. They were his wings. Or were they the wings of his servants. She tried not to think about it.
«You’re just an illusion yourself,» Rhianon thought, and turned away. But his dry rustling laughter echoed in her mind. How easily he could have merged with the ringing of bells, the dry rustling of leaves, or the surrounding silence. People at Mass are most often unaware that the silence around them hums not from angelic voices, but from other dark and fearful ones lurking in the darkness. She knew that Asmodeus whispers whatever he wants to clergymen of all ranks, and they obey him. Blinded by their pride, they could not see that they were being led by the devil, or rather, not the devil himself, but his servants. Madael himself would never have condescended to such petty meanness or to such vanity-torn humans. Nor would God himself ever condescend to those who are called his earthly servants. Madael is the former favorite of God, and he imitates him in everything. And likewise, he has his own servants for minor errands. His servants here were just full, right in the darkness of the nave and the stuffy height above the heads of the crowd, while he himself remained unreachable. Quite like a deity. The only thing that distinguished him from a god was the love he had once known. In any case, the capacity to love had once been awakened in him. It was late, but it came to light. And from God, Rhianon only felt something crushing. The cathedral pressed against her. She felt stuffy, and she was glad she’d worn a dress with an open neckline instead of a lace jabot. Otherwise the collar would have begun to choke her. Someone was spreading the veil over her shoulders, but not a man. She felt the subtle touch of her invisible companion. He touched her gently, as if she were a shrine.
«You are the only sacred thing there is, and not for me alone… for him too,» he might not have whispered it. Rhianon covered her eyes. Her golden lashes suddenly became stiff and stabbed her skin. The words of the Archbishop who crowned them were lost in the general hum. There was a murmur in her ears. The light crushing in the colored stained-glass windows stabbed her eyes. In a moment it would burst into flames and burn everything around it. Rhianon was afraid to look up and see one of Madael’s servants sitting high on the balustrade around the dome or one of the rungs below the ceiling. What if he himself is here?
The persistent scent of flowers made her dizzy. There was a sea of them here today. Gardeners must have cut whole plantations of white roses and lilies to garland the apse, and the pulpit, and all the arches or columns. White bows matched the bouquets. Everything here was white against