Tamlane – Prisoner of the Queen of the Fairies – 2. Release. Natalie Yacobson

would have suited you better,» the queen of the fairies, as the spirits and flowers called her, smiled. «But you’re not a very pretty lizard, are you? I think it’s time to change my passion for dragon limbs for something more romantic. What do you think?»

      Tamlane didn’t know what to say, but she wasn’t addressing him. As it turned out, the darkness around him concealed an entire enormous black dragon, which hissed jealously at his mistress’ words.

      «Jealousy is unnecessary,» the queen reprimanded him. «Jealousy is punishable, as is infidelity.»

      She clawed Tamlane’s chin with her black claws and peered into his eyes. Her hypnotic gaze should have robbed him of his sanity, but it didn’t. The queen was furious. Her fingernails raked into the enchanted scales on his body, and he could barely contain his scream. The lizard’s tail was sensitive to pain. It felt like it was being skinned every time he touched it.

      She wanted to kiss him, but she couldn’t. For some reason she stepped away. «You’re a mystery, though. At first I thought my dragon had come to life, but all you did was made armor out of it.»

      «Not me,» Tamlane protested. «It was another mortal hero.»

      «It is of no importance! You will be my hero and my guest in my bed for now. You should be glad you fought to win the sympathy of the fairies’ queen. My favor is not easy to gain. All magical warriors are at my service, and I wanted you. You are grateful to me.»

      He only laughed, muffled and doomed. And the flames in the fireplace hissed, emitting colored sparks that were actually tiny creatures that sympathized with him.

      «I’ll wake soon, and you’ll be gone,» Tamlane whispered. «I want you to be just a dream.»

      «I am better as a dream,» she gently caressed his cheek.

      «You are a night mosquito,» he corrected her.

      «So I’m a nightmare to you?»

      She didn’t even flinch when he nodded, and wrapped her supernatural arms around his head.

      «I’ll still teach you to love me, make you love me if you have to, and in time you’ll learn that nightmares can be sweet.»

      Her kiss tasted like poison. There was nothing heavenly about it. Unable to tear himself away from her lips and sigh, Tamlane realized he was in hell. Henceforth he was a prisoner of the fairies’ queen. There was no way to call this captivity sweet.

      Masks of golden leaves and flowers

      A girl played with her by the hill. It was a strange girl with magic in her eyes, with a pixie in her basket, with a live ball. That ball looked like a head without a body. And that head smiled at Janet as she caught the ball. A storm was coming. And Janet’s new girlfriend had no intention of hiding from the first raindrops.

      She preferred to play ball in the middle of a downpour. Janet didn’t leave either, lest she offend the little one. How old the child was, and what she was doing near the earl’s castle, she didn’t even bother to ask. The girl looked ten years old, with purple sparks in her eyes.

      «My name is Tamsin,» she said. «I live near here in the buckthorn bushes. I like to spy on you from there. But my sister Heather is furious with you.»

      Heather! What kind of name is that? Janet caught the ball and held it in her hands while it looked at her with its face covered in golden leaves. And then the whole ball turned into a round, elf-like mask of leaves. Janet dropped it, and Tamsin watched her fright carefully.

      «All the fairies of the forest and the lands near the forest are mad at you,» she continued, as if nothing had happened. «Lungwort is especially furious with you. She hasn’t even seen you yet and she wants to rip your head off so she can play with it like a ball. Are you afraid?»

      What kind of naughty child is that? Janet did not respond to the impertinence, turned and walked away. The red lights in Tamsin’s eyes were beginning to scare her. The girl looked like a little demon, though she was pretty. She wore a wreath in her hair, woven from twigs of buckthorn.

      «Lungwort will find you!» Tamsin shouted after Janet, who for some reason she dared not follow. «Lungwort is mad at you! You captured her prisoner. She can easily break through walls to reach you.»

      Lungwort! That word somehow frightened Janet more than an entire enemy army. That’s the name of a flower, after all. All flowers are pretty to look at. How could one be frightened of them? But something told Janet it wasn’t a flower at all.

      Why had she just left the castle when the sky was already darkening in anticipation of a thunderstorm? Why was she playing ball with a girl she didn’t know? Where would a child come from in these surroundings? The nearest village is quite far away. Squire, who recently hovered in the village of relatives, said that the well of the old witch Helga nicknamed Belladonna is indeed nailed up, and voices can be heard from it. Eyewitnesses assure that at night the fortuneteller scandalizes them and nails the well even harder. Where does she draw water for her brew? Unless it’s made with water and not blood. Janet was amazed that Belladonna really had a handle on the water elves. She herself could not find a way to deal with these magical folk, and had always succumbed to their provocations.