should wear this to the ball tonight,” Mara said in a hushed voice. She handed Rose a dress and headed for the exit.
“At five to twelve we are waiting for you in the hall of mirrors,” she explained in an indisputable tone. Mara paused at the door. The light of the lamp fell on her face, outlined thin cheekbones. A deathly pale brow was covered with a rash of freckles, and her mouth curved into an avid, cruel grin. In the next moment, the cousin slipped out of the room like an ethereal ghost.
The door slammed shut behind her with such force that the hinges creaked and groaned. Each wall in this building resembled a living, mythical creature. Each window casement here had eyes that closely watched the newcomer. But as soon as one turned around and the walls turned to stone again, and the spirits living in them imperceptibly laughed at their accuser.
Rose stood in the middle of the room, clutching a gift, and shadows flickered and waltz around her. The gold brocade burned her fingers. The enchanted bedroom walls whispered among themselves.
Sharp beams of light danced across the polished table top. But the wreath was no longer on the table. Together with it, the otherworldly force disappeared, by order of the troll hiding in flowers and protecting the princess.
As midnight drew near, life awakened in the chateau. The guests dressed up and floated out of their chambers, as if resurrected from the underworld. If at the height of the day it seemed to the princess that this palace was uninhabited, now she could only be surprised at the abundance of dressed up and arrogant gentlemen crowding at the front stairs and passages. Footmen in colorful liveries pushed aside and fastened the curtains with ribbons. And outside the windows in all its splendor appeared the starry sky.
Sunlight had no right to enter the palace premises, and the night here enjoyed special privileges. Windows were specially opened for her, as if she was an honored guest and patroness of local entertainment.
Rose walked through the suite of rooms and found herself in a kind of gallery. Dim pointed stars gazed silently at the girl from both sides through the Gothic windows. No matter how much Rose looked at the dark firmament before, she had never seen such bizarre constellations. A terrible guess flashed through my head. The bizarre interweaving of stars condones witchcraft, which is why they seem ridiculous in comparison with other luminaries. And they appear exclusively over the dwelling of a sorcerer or a person against whom witchcraft is directed. So, in the chateau, someone is either initiated in the wisdom of the forbidden sciences, or incurred the hatred of an evil wizard and thus deserves a magical punishment.
Suddenly a cold, dank wind whipped Rose across the face. The princess was even indignant. Whatever tricks the sorcerers do, and winter winds should not be allowed to walk through the summer expanses. Rose inhaled the frosty air, and it burst from her mouth in warm steam. Steam floated across the floor and surrounded the girl’s figure in white clouds. But she hurriedly tore herself out of the white ring and walked away.
Miracles like winter winds in summer and frightening constellations usually don’t bode well. Rose was afraid that her hearing was about to pick up another vibration in the wall or a low, malicious laugh emanating from the void, but this time nothing of the kind happened. Where a company of people gathered, the self-willed walls instantly stopped whispering, as if they had turned into a rumor.
It was rather difficult to navigate in the luxurious maze of halls and guest rooms. Rose lost her way, turned into a narrow corridor and found herself in a dead end. There was only a rickety spiral staircase that led to a round, flaky door at the very top. Bolts protruded from the rusting railing. The steps creaked. And the dirty, shabby door was tight against the wall. Such squalor was inappropriate among the surrounding tinsel and lush decoration. Why was this staircase not repaired and the door not painted? Mara could buy any trinkets and jewelry, she could give her home a fabulous look, and she didn’t even deign to clean up one single corner in the palace.
On the steps were dry leaves and scraps of woolen cloth. The servants didn’t even bother to throw this trash away. Maybe someone brought here dried tulips and gnawed fish bones on purpose. All this was like some kind of mysterious ritual. Rose wanted to go upstairs and see what was hidden behind this door. She had already stepped on a shaky step, but then out of nowhere emerged two agile pages and blocked her path.
“Don’t go there, lady!” One of them whispered. His face looked like a boy of about seven years old, but his voice sounded hoarse and capricious, like a sick old man.
Both pages were delicate and fragile, like two wax candles. The loose sleeves of their suits dangled like torn sails. The strange green caps gave the boys an inhuman appearance. Mischievous eyes betrayed a bully, but at the same time the shifted, bushy eyebrows on the children’s faces spoke of the evil disposition of these guys.
Rose ignored their warning and wanted to step further, but the second page, with the speed of lightning, found himself a step higher than the girl and blocked the narrow passage.
“You can’t go there,” he croaked. His voice sounded even more disgusting than the first.
“Why?” asked Rosa, straightening up to her full height and showing by her appearance that here she is the mistress, and not some dwarfs.
Two kids in green caps immediately realized their mistake and forgot about the impudent tone.
“They have been waiting for you at the ball for a long time,” the first page sang in a sugary, honeyed voice.
His companion unceremoniously grabbed Rosa by the arm and pulled her away from the stairs. The princess barely had time to turn around to look at the mysterious door, kept like a forbidden passage to another world, before the quick pages carried her into another corridor, away from the temptation to reveal other people’s secrets. Rosa never ceased to be amazed at the insolence of these disgusting mischief-makers. How are they just kept in the service? Mara should be reprimanded
“Leave me alone!” Rose shouted at them as soon as the ballroom doors appeared ahead. She snatched her hand out of the firm, but far from friendly, grip and walked swiftly forward along the carpet. Her steps echoed in the confined space of the corridor. The lamps on the walls alternately went out, warning the approach of the girl. The candles in the candelabra were extinguished, and the beauty in the golden dress illuminated the approaching darkness by itself. Rose’s emerald eyes took on a feline shine in the shadows. Classic eyebrow arches curved over them. The shoulders of the princess were striking with whiteness and grace. The hair flowed in a dark waterfall from under the enamel hoop. Relentless rock hovered over a beautiful head. If a magician was here, he would have seen a slender, radiant lady hurrying to the ball, and the angel of death flies behind her, rustling with black wings.
A chamberlain stood at the sash doors with a list of guests. He smiled ingratiatingly. Flattery showed in his speeches.
Rose turned around and saw two little pages at the other end of the corridor. They boldly met her gaze and quietly, maliciously laughed.
The tall grandfather clock by the window showed a quarter to twelve. The chamberlain crossed out one of the names on the list, and the doors to the hall immediately swung open by themselves.
“It wasn’t without magic,” thought Rose. She spread the bucked sleeves of her dress and stepped over the threshold. The doors immediately closed behind her, like a prepared trap.
However, the ballroom was not much like a trap. Its high vaulted ceilings looked up into the sky. Stained glass was inserted into the bizarre windows. The light was crushed in crystal chandeliers. Music was playing. Dressed up couples flirted. The high society was entertained by jugglers and acrobats. At the edges of the hall were festive tables with food and wine.
Only the overwhelming size of the hall and the crooked reflections in the wall mirrors made an unpleasant impression on Rosa.
As soon as she entered, the musicians stopped playing. An ominous silence hung over the hall. Ladies and gentlemen now looked like suddenly put to sleep. Everyone froze