the sky, not a dragon.
«Put your pride aside and ask him for help,» Zeligena advised, who had not been able to use her magic against her enemies.
«Do you think the dragon will listen to me?» Patricia was stunned. Who did they take her for? Was she a great sorceress?
«Do it.»
«Why don’t I get him to play the whistle? A lady of the court boasted of bewitching a Naga by playing the whistle. She escaped to the mountain kingdom of the Nagas! Apparently everyone there obeyed her music.»
«Just drive the dragon with your voice, not your music,» Zeligena insisted.
«And he’ll hear?»
«He already did, since he’s here.»
«But I didn’t call him.»
«I heard you did.»
Morgens and mermaids can call with a song, but not a dragon. Patricia was sure that if she threw the ring into the water and asked for help, the mermaids would come, but their help would probably sink the whole ship. And the dragon could burn the whole ship. Both options are bad. Patricia would have preferred to fight herself, but Zeligena was beating her attackers with her powerful wings, protecting the captain and waiting.
«Okay, I’ll give it a try!»
Patricia hesitated, and the golden belly of the dragon suddenly disappeared behind the clouds. Where do clouds come from in the sky at night? Or was it fog? The fog was descending on the ship as well. It glowed like silver.
«Morgens hate silver, and so do I,» Zeligena muttered, looking at the silvery pollen swirling in the mist.
«Are you a member of the Morgen race? I mean to the sea civilization?»
«The swamps, rivers and seas are actually connected by common channels, rules and bloodlines. I’m sort of a cousin to the mermaids.»
Zeligena squinted. The silvery mist was blinding her. Patricia began to defend the swamp fairy herself. She punched her attackers. The brass knuckles didn’t hurt them much, but the hard blows made them retreat. The dagger, on the other hand, didn’t hurt them at all. The blade slid across them like armor. The enemies were only wounded by the troll claws, but they did not bleed. Instead of blood, a glistening liquid appeared and the wounds healed. Well, how could they win? These faceless warriors probably wouldn’t be burned by dragon fire either!
Suddenly, the crowd of invaders parted. Their ranks had not thinned, but there was a pathway between them that Patricia could follow into the thick of the battle. The warriors moved as if obeying some magician who was calling the captain to a duel.
Patricia walked forward, saber hovering ahead, chopping right and left. The magic saber could easily cut off hands, feet, and heads. The limbs grew back as if magnetically pulled to their bodies. It’s like a nightmare!
«Patricia!» A gentle voice rang out from the half-light. A pale fairy stood there in the clots of silvery mist. She seemed to be the one controlling the fog. Silver glitter scattered across the fairy’s skin like glowing moles. Bony wings that looked like fish gills protruded from her fragile back. The fairy’s ball gown was of the Opal’s style. It felt like the fairy had flown in from a ball held in Opal. But why are the skirts soiled in the ground? Could it be a grave fairy? But she’s wearing a white dress. Grave fairies usually wear mourning.
The fairy’s silver eyes stared fixedly at Patricia. Although the eyebrows and eyelashes on her eyelids had turned white, the stranger was recognizable.
«Beatrice!» Patricia forgot her caution and stepped toward her sister. «But you are dead!»
Lady Beatrice was found strangled by fairies in the royal garden three months ago. No one had seen with their own eyes how the fairies had lured her into the garden, whirled her around in their circle and killed her, but gossipers said that was what had happened. A wreath of forget-me-nots and roses was torn around Beatrice’s neck. Judging by the thorns on her throat, that’s what the girl was strangled with. Who else can strangle with a flower wreath, if not fairies. After all, flowers are their symbol.
Fairies are able to teach their chosen ones how to conjure with flowers and herbs, and use the magic of plants against unwanted people. Apparently, the fairies considered the beautiful Beatrice a dangerous rival. Or maybe there are more serious enemies and intrigues involved?
«How did you end up here?» Patricia stepped over the stumps of the invaders’ bodies, which no longer joined or stood up. Apparently Beatrice had diverted some of the magic onto herself. She’s the one who brought the mist. Had she become a sorceress after her death?
«I flew in,» she answered. Her voice sounded like a bell, but there was no echo.
«Are you a ghost?»
Beatrice laughed.
«What difference does it make? Come to me, sister!» She held out her skinny arms to Patricia, which also showed silver sparkles. The glowing moles reminded her of a map of constellations on her skin.
Patricia obediently stepped toward Beatrice. Her sister was definitely not a fairy. Then why does Beatrice have something like stiff patterned wings protruding from her back? Maybe it’s just making a masquerade costume, like the long white claws on her toes, like the white butterflies tangled in her hair. Only the fog could not be called part of the masquerade. The silvery mist came with Beatrice and hypnotized everyone: enemies and supporters alike. It was as if everyone who fought had fallen asleep. The ship became as quiet as a grave, and the fog shimmered and thickened.
«Are you Mistress of the Mists?» Patricia asked dazedly, approaching her sister. Beatrice’s face glowed like a true star fairy. She could easily be seen even in the fog.
«Are you the mistress of the ship?»
«It is a sort of.»
«Do you know why I hid your ship from the dragon?»
«Did you do that?» Patricia was genuinely surprised. Why did Beatrice dislike the dragon so much? It’s so beautiful!
«I know the risk your association with the dragon poses to all of Opal,» she whispered. Her bloodless lips were also filled with sparkling sparks like mist.
«How did you escape from Opal?»
«I escaped from the crypt, not Opal. The grave fairies got jealous of how beautiful I turned out to be.»
Patricia didn’t understand, but hugged her sister anyway. The saber hovering above her head hissed unhappily. Why did she dislike Beatrice so much?
Her sister’s curls had lightened to an almost grayish hue, but were softer than silk to the touch. But Beatrice’s skirts were indeed clumps of earth. Had she really been buried alive? How did she get out of the crypt? No one in Patricia’s family had ever fallen into a lethargic sleep. Was Beatrice a newcomer, or did the King of Opal deliberately bury her alive? But Beatrice wasn’t involved in any conspiracy. He probably decided to punish the whole family by destroying the youngest of the sisters. The parents always loved Beatrice more than Patricia. After all, Beatrice was sickly and very delicate. In the old days she would have been tortured with nausea even while boating on the pond, but now she felt fine even on the high seas.
«The King of Opal is not a villain,» Beatrice whispered in Patricia’s ear. «He loves you. Go back to him and he will forgive you.»
«What are you saying?» Patricia wanted to pull away, but Beatrice’s slender hands clutched her waist with a deadening grip.
Where had the soft, velvety skin gone? Her sister’s hands turned to bone. Patricia wanted to break free, but the bony fingers held her tightly. On one cheek Beatrice’s smooth bone was also exposed. Flesh and skin fell from her face like the face of Queen Esperanza rotting in a crypt. In contrast, the wings behind Beatrice’s back glistened and gained power. She soared above the deck and lifted Patricia with her. Though Beatrice’s body