them on the strings. If strict adherence to etiquette had been observed, the court music teacher would have been happy to scold her. But she was the daughter of a monarch, and he had to keep quiet. Rhianon smiled wistfully. Such beautiful harmonies she had never heard before. She could hardly believe it was her own hands plucking something like this from the strings. The music flowed like a silvery stream and enveloped everything. The gloomy tower, which must have never listened to such sounds, was transformed. The moans and sobs that sounded like living walls dissolved into it. Strange, in the earthly kingdom where Rhianon lived, at court they used to say that all walls have ears, that was a hackneyed expression, though it meant that behind the walls there are spies, while the monolith of the fortress itself does not breathe or live. But here in the tower of Madael, each wall seemed to live on its own and, at the same time, to be an organ of a single, independent entity: this fortress. The gloomy tower seemed a sleeping giant, as lost and parched as Madael’s army. And now in the very womb of this creature, magical music sounded. Rhianon opened her lips and sang in time to it, softly but expressively. Nor could she remember any song by heart. The words flowed by themselves.
In a moment she wouldn’t even be able to remember what she was singing about, but of course the song was about the same motif as everyone else, there was passion and love and death, and of course the power of doom and betrayal.
She stopped suddenly, sensing someone nearby. The song broke off halfway through. Rhianon quickly put the harp aside and turned around at the doorway. She feared that Madael was already standing there watching her. It was as if he had caught her at something forbidden. It seemed to her that she should not have played in that tower and now she should be silenced for doing so.
Rhianon waited for some accusing words or a commanding shout, but the dark figure, frozen in the doorway, remained motionless. No wings could be seen behind its lean back. So it was not Madael or one of his subjects. Rhianon looked closely, but could make out nothing in the darkness.
“Please continue, Your Highness,” the soft voice came from the darkness and sounded apologetic. “I did not mean to disturb you.”
“Arnaud,” Rhianon guessed rather than saw. He was still in the shadows. She could see the outline of his shoulders and his voice was familiar. And of course he was the only one who could address her as “Your Highness. Others in the magical world would more readily mistake her for a queen, for she was the companion of their lord. None of them would repeat to her the words she heard in Loretta. Only Arnaud did.
With a nod of her head she invited him to cross the threshold of the hall. He complied, but treaded softly, as if there were traps he knew would be set in the floor.
“I didn’t want to disturb you…”
“What are you doing here?”
He was clearly embarrassed. Rhianon couldn’t imagine how he’d managed to get into a tower where only winged creatures, and not even birds, but those capable of flying much higher than them, could enter. One of Madael’s subjects could have brought Arnaud here, of course. Rhianon shuddered involuntarily. The young man was very handsome. Even the shabby garments he wore did not mar his handsome good looks, but she was sickened by the sight of him. She could only think of how he had come into the world. It wasn’t his fault, of course. It was silly and unfair to condemn him for someone else’s faults. Rhianon suddenly understood what Madael meant when he explained that fallen angels were not supposed to love humans, much less associate with them. Yet he himself had broken that rule. What might have been the consequences in their case? Rhianon swallowed hard and put her fingers to her thin waist. She didn’t want to think about something like that.
“I go everywhere, even to the most inaccessible places sometimes,” Arnaud smiled guiltily. “Some people say that there are no doors that can be locked from me, because I can even go through the keyhole.”
“This tower has no doors,” she reminded him reasonably.
“But there are gaps between the stones and windows.”
She didn’t quite see where he was going with that. To squeeze through a crevice is certainly impressive, but it’s hardly dexterity enough to do something like that. She could tell from Arnaud’s shabby appearance, however, that he had to use both dexterity and ingenuity to get his crust of bread. Thin and unkempt, he was, however, surprisingly handsome. She smiled at him.
“You wanted to play instead of me? Don’t worry, despite my skills I am in no hurry to take work away from the minstrels. At any court you will be welcome, even if they hear my music before you.”
“They don’t like music here,” he interrupted her. “They prefer shouting.”
Rhianon knew who he meant and nodded slowly. Heavy strands of thick hair fell to her forehead, as if they were the shadow of a crown. Only Arnaud did not notice the dainty hoop of sapphires on her head; he reached out to touch the strands. Amazingly, standing far away from her, he was immediately beside her. His hand, as if reaching across the room, easily fumbled with the curls.
“They’re like golden rays,” he whispered with a quiet, enthusiastic gasp. “I wonder if he’ll have the same…”
“Who is it?” Rhiannon looked at him worriedly. Somehow she didn’t like the suggestion. At that moment footsteps sounded in the distance. A piercing echo echoed through the darkened enfilade of the hall. Madael was hurrying this way.
Arnaud could not utter another word as he sensed his approach. He quickly put his fingers to his lips to indicate silence, and then darted behind the drapery. He had already disappeared, and his pleading gaze still haunted Rhianon. Arnaud asked her not to tell anyone about him or what he’d said.
“I hope I do not have to stay here tonight?” Rhianon tried to draw Madael’s attention away from the moving drapery before he crossed the threshold.
“Not if you don’t want to,” he tossed aside his helmet, scrolls of some sort, and began to remove the steel wires around his wrists as if they were fetters or chains. He had never attempted to remove them before. Rhianon was surprised. She had thought the bracelets, so intricately wrought, had become inseparable from his flesh. But it turned out that he could just as easily have thrown them off. The skin beneath the removed hoops was not scarred. He looked at his wrists as if he’d never seen them before.
“You know, in heaven, I wished I’d worn some kind of jewelry, but everyone was equal there. Our only difference from the clouds and the ether was our beauty, not tiaras or crowns. Jewelry was forbidden.”
“And then you wove a bracelet out of the sun’s rays,” she didn’t remember how she knew that. It wasn’t like he’d ever told her about such things.
“Yes,” Madael turned to her and stared at her for a long moment, as if he thought she was someone he’d lost and known, but couldn’t.
“And it was nice to have the distinction that no one else had. It was as if you made yourself the boss, and you were allowed to?”
“I was the favorite,” Madael shrugged lightly. “Everyone’s favorite. But in the end, my jewelry became my shackles.”
“I know that,” she traced the coils of gold patterns that wrapped around his skin like a net. Until now they might have looked like tattoos or gold snakes parasitizing on a living body, but now it turned out that they were all part of a body that would have been perfect without them. He didn’t need jewelry, either. He decorated the dark hall around them with his very presence. It was enough to look at him and all fears were dispelled. Rhianon shrank back; he belonged to her, and yet he seemed so unreachable at the same time.
“What’s in the scrolls?” She asked as if casually.
“So, ancient truths,” he said. “I wonder how to break them…”
“Can I help?”
“I don’t think so,” he said in a startled voice. “No one can.”
Help