for my wealth.
I threw my head back and looked straight into the blazing sun. My eyes hurt for just a moment, or maybe it just seemed that way. The sun can’t burn me. After all, I came from it. The light of the dawn, the son of the dawn, Dennitsa… my father! The sun is a part of him since time immemorial, gold is his substance, scattered at the fall all over the world, so no wonder it all belongs to me. I should be pleased with myself, with my high and inhuman origin, my luxurious possessions and my limitless power over all living things. Father had ceded his place to me, and still I wanted to see him. To feel the touch of his wing again, to look into his eyes, the color of the azure sky, to look at the face of the angel who had once been by far the most beautiful of all.
Many times when I fell asleep, I hoped that I would dream of him again, but I never dreamed of him again. It was as if a life-giving spring had stopped flowing, renewing me in some way. I was just Edwin again. Everything divine was gone with Madeel. I was just a young man, a dragon with an unusually handsome face and untold treasures that I not only guarded, but continued to hoard.
The sun was at its zenith. I stared at it for so long that the sun’s disk began to double in my eyes. My curls, like golden rye, scattered across the grass. The smell of hops was stupefying. It was stronger now.
I fell asleep and had a strange dream. In this dream I was half human and half dragon. The transformation was not complete. I was still wearing my camisole, but my limbs were dragon-like. The claws seemed especially sharp, and the lady in front of me was fragile and defenseless. I easily ripped the earrings from her ears with my claws before I realized I was ripping the earrings from Rose’s ears. Blood trickled down her neck from the torn earlobes, bright and scarlet. It stood out starkly against her pale skin. I suddenly realized that it was no longer skin, but marble. It was just a marble bust in front of me, not Rose. But its earlobes were chipped.
I woke up with the feeling that the earrings that had been ripped from Rose’s ears were still in my hands. Of course, it was just a feeling after a vivid dream. They say there are prophetic dreams. Or is that just a misconception? Who should I ask when only I should know everything without error? I’m the one to go to for advice and dream interpretation. In my castle chambers, unlike the court of my mortal foster father, there were no sullen astrologers or alchemists. I was the only one who decided everything here. No predictions and no fear of the pressure of prophecy. My power was absolute, I had nothing to fear. The future was I and my power, everything else was the past.
Everyone internalized this well, and no one objected. My subjects respected me and feared me. But now I myself would have to be afraid. The dream was frighteningly realistic. It was truly prophetic. It was brought upon me by the vengeful Rose herself. She’d been practicing witchcraft at the highest level for a long time, and though I’d done her no wrong, she was always looking for some reason to get back at me.
Only now I felt no one invading my mind. No one was trying to bewitch me or annoy me for petty reasons. I easily recognized the magical influence on me and reflected it with my charms like a shield. It would be turned toward the one who cast it. Everyone knew how dangerous it was to invade my mind or try to bewitch me. That was the only reason why I didn’t fall victim to the spell of all the local sorceresses who were ready to take the vacant place of the empress. I could be attracted by their beautiful faces, but their charms against me were completely useless.
Only Rose I forgave everything, so she tried to attack me more than once. But it wasn’t her now. The dream seemed dangerous and prophetic.
The sun was still shining brightly, but it was as if a dark cloud had fallen over me. I looked across the field, which seemed almost endless. The maple forest was black on the side, and some of the small leaves on the maples were pure gold, but no one dared to tear them off. In this part of my country, a clear day never ended because the sun was always at its zenith. And some things or plants here had the property of turning to gold by themselves. But if someone tried to steal them, they would become grass or leaves again. I could only give someone a precious gift of my own accord. You can’t sneak anything from me. Anyone who steals from a dragon is likely to take rot instead of gold, as well as his own misfortune and death.
Perhaps that was the only reason why the dwarf, who was traveling south with a loaded cart, looked enviously at the charms of the surrounding plains, but dared not touch anything. At first I mistook him for one of Rose’s messengers, so I wouldn’t even stop him if he picked a golden plant or two. Rose sent her servants here so often for more gold that I had gotten used to letting load their carts or baskets or canvas sacks in silence, because I knew that the sooner they could satisfy her appetite, the sooner they would be out of here. I had never even once conveyed to her with the messengers the advice to use her own sorcery rather than my savings to accomplish her goals. Ever since we’d met, I’d been in the habit of sharing everything I had with her. I must have done it for nothing, because it didn’t make her any kinder.
The last thing I wanted to do was talk or bargain with her messenger. So when the ragged gnome approached, I just laid down deeper in the grass, almost crushing the leprechauns, who were tangled in my hair and sleeping sweetly. They squeaked resentfully, attracting his attention.
By etiquette, he should have bowed to me as soon as he came within sight of the hop fields, or not set foot in them at all. It was mainly because of his tactlessness that I mistook him for Rosa’s servant. Her entourage was always remarkably loose. Well, and also shabby. Even with plenty of money, Rose never spent a penny on her subjects. It was her rule. Her servants were always hungry, thieving, hustling, and very poorly dressed. The dwarf’s tattered and slightly scorched clothes were a pity.
If he hadn’t been Rose’s servant, I might have helped him. I felt obliged to look after the welfare of my subjects. Therefore, there were no needy within my Empire. All the needy remained in Rose’s retinue. Strangely, both Rose and I had been raised in the royal court, where we were both supposed to be accustomed to mercy and charity, as well as caring for all who obeyed us. Although I was wrongly considered the youngest son, deprived of the right to inherit the throne, the educators managed to instill in me a desire to care for the welfare of all my subjects. Rose was born and raised as the sole heir to the throne. She wanted to ruin and offend absolutely everyone. She acted like a bitter abandoned spouse who was ready to tear and throw without any reason, and she seemed to have no reason to do so. She was the one who left me, not me who drove her away.
The dwarf also behaved like a very frightened and battered creature, but he had nothing to fear here. I’ve never hurt anyone in my empire. And I certainly never attacked anyone who wouldn’t hurt me first.
I decided it was my duty to stand up and explain to him that all subjects of the Empire were under my protection. By subjects, in this case, I meant all those who had left me to serve Rose at her new estate, which stood at the crossroads where magical roads intersected with those of mortals. For that reason, Diarmand Manor was hard to find, even for me. It had been called that before, but now it was better known as the Palace of Black Magnolias, as it was overgrown with flowers that were alive and hungry for travelers’ blood.
I was curious to find out from the dwarf the latest news: how many travelers had gone missing in those lands in recent days, how many surrounding villages had fallen under Rosa’s spell, how many noblemen who lived nearby had perished from her charms. Since I myself have already been freed from her oppression, I would only laugh at the way she tortures others. Besides, I liked to talk to dwarves about things I had loved since my human youth.
Except that the dwarf’s reaction to my courtesy was extremely unexpected. When I was about to get up, he jumped up on the spot, squeaked something like that he apologized for everything in advance and asked not to touch him, and was so. The only thing was the dust on the path, on which he ran away from me, and at a speed with which birds do not fly.
Wow! I remember that chubby dwarves like him were always extremely clumsy. Who knows, maybe he was lucky enough to get