form, the dragon was great.
«I need a whole army of such,» Nicolette noticed. «I love them. Little lights of fire. But when they grow up…»
There was a legend in the world that after the fall of the devil, his beauty was not destroyed, but it remained to live by itself. Every few years, it was formed into a living creature, which is no suspect of a wandering somewhere her dark half. This creature was not born like a baby from people, it simply appeared like a silhouette created from the moon’s light. And here is a little girl with gold hair wandered in the forest, surrounding the light, and the dark creatures of the nights ran out from her. It was the first thing she remembered. Brett found her. He seemed to be eternally looking for her and not almost surprised when he finally found. He brought her to an abandoned estate, put in front of the mirror, combed her hair, offered a cup with blood instead of wine… and since then they were inseparable.
People might say that they became a family. But their kinship was somewhat different. In each time she had a trustee. He was always very beautiful. Brett had silky dark hair and pleasant features. He could be a prince for some mortal girl, but he preferred to live in the forests and serve Nicolette.
It is strange that with each year spent together she began to appreciate him less and less. But at the first meeting, he seemed surprisingly attractive. But over time in him, as if something was dying. This is all the power of the clock. It called her. It was a living creature owning this world. Only that moment was depended on her, when the scattered hands connect and start moving in one direction, and not in two different. Two worlds will unite, becoming her kingdom. But it is worth skipping one moment, and everything will be old. The hands will again disperse. Between the worlds pierce the same border. The clock will remain compounded formerly measured graph. And it is already tired of them. Live mechanisms of the golden creature have been lightened by freedom and discharge. The voices of the clock sang so sweet. Slim siren.
Nicolette listened to silence.
«I still hope to catch a whistle of the wings of Edwin, see how he flies across the sky, illuminating darkness,» she frowned. «But I can’t approach close to him, it’s impossible to look at him anymore… Our meeting will not lead to good. Bye!»
Up to the fatal dawn, when everything will change. Then she needs to fear anything. Once, she watched Edwin from afar, leaning against the column in his castle. It was impossible to watch him for a long time. Too great was temptation to forget about everything.
Therefore, she kept away. But it was impossible to forget about him anyway. It is better for Edwin not to see her, otherwise the fragile balance in his country will be broken. He is generally better not to know that there is someone above him in the world. Let him consider himself the only descendant of the devil and enjoys melancholy. His cargo is not so great.
«Until now, it seemed to me that there is no one who is seductive, there is no one,» Nicolette shook her head, diligently running the memory, flashed, like lightning. Assembly, night, dozens of gloomy faces and a young man with a surprisingly innocent face and a killer dagger hidden in the cassock. An innocent killer?! In the name of the Lord! Simple as that! Religious fanaticism. So it is called people. And any atrocity is justified by the fact that they make it in the name of God. They feel saints. Will they burn in hell?
Nicolette tried to drive a young man’s face from memory and could not. It was nice to look at him and at the same time hurt. He will die soon. She felt the seal of death on his smooth forehead. Suicides! They always seemed to especially attract her. There was some kind of mystery in them, not even a devil. What makes people go to death in the name of their faith.
That young man was ready to sacrifice himself for the sake of good deed. He did not know what would create. Nicolette presented how the dagger cuts into his own guts. It was so easy to eliminate him right now, but she slowed.
Why? What for? Is it worth keeping his life. He himself chose death. Rather, self-sacrifice. So he calls it. He is ready to kill himself to drag what he believes evil.
She easily shrugged. Heavy velvet curtains with brushes dropped themselves on the windows, closing the night. She silently told it to do it. She did not want to think about Edwin or see him. She wanted to see the young man once again.
Rejected
Joselin waited in vain. As once a long time ago in the spacious hall of the palaces and now at the fine binding of the lattice. The chapel was empty. Ferdinand did not hurry for a date. Probably, he will not come at all. But she waited anyway. Her outfit was strict and how it should be to a widow, black, but still luxurious. Expensive fabric, efforts of seamstress, jewelry, shiny in black taffeta and black hair, elegant ridges, earrings, hairstyle, even tastefully selected lacy mantle – and all this is just to attract the attention of a young man who would prefer to be a sexless creature.
Sometimes she began to be angry. It is a pity that monks from this order could not be whipped. It is a pity that the father of Ferdinand died. He would not allow the only direct heir to finish like this. In this grave. Here people are buried alive.
Previously, the smell of jasmine, who fled the hedge, calmed her down, but now no longer. To see flowers in a dream is bad. Now she understood it. Recently, she often dreamed of yellow roses, bright and lush, similar to the multilayer sun. And after these dreams, the painful outbreaks of jealousy were coming. It seemed to her that someone settled in the cell of Ferdinand. A certain creature similar to an angel. It was not a dream. She saw her everywhere, it seemed that her sharp claws were about to cut earrings from her ears. In dreams, they often did it. In her recent dreams, worms crawled out of yellow roses. And Ferdinand was anyway.
He prayed to himself… as a person who considers himself close to God may be at the same time so insensitive? Why did he never notice the suffering of women who went on him crazy? After all, then he was not yet a monk. And then as if something called him, and he disappeared from the world.
Crazy, but so desirable.
Her fingers dug into the twisted binding. Iron rods crashed into the skin to blood. How long can you go down the steep monastery stairs to reach the one who came to visit you? The time that has already passed seemed eternity. She was no longer hoping to see in the distance his blond head. Ferdinand almost passed by, without even noticing her. She had to verify him several times before he looked in her direction and nodded dryly.
Has he remembered at least something from his former life, seeing her here? Will regretted what left?
Wealth. Request. Heritage. Lovers. Bind-free life for which he was born. For what could be left all this? Any other would have dreamed of being in his place. Is there something great for which you can throw and forget all earthly goods?
She almost asked him about it out loud. You need to be more careful. He did not like her attention.
«How are you?» She had a lot of questions that she asked in a hurry, but Ferdinand seemed to not listen.
«Things are good!»
And it was all! One sole phrase, obscured by chance. In addition to a beautiful nape, removing from her, Josselin could no longer consider anything. He seemed to not notice her. Rather defeated than praying. She suddenly felt wild evil. What power keeps him here? Far from her. Far from the world. Around everyone, except for something secret that he was completely swallowed and turned away from all alive.
Josselin was in despair. How she did not want to put up with the thought that he was lost forever. But today he will definitely return. You will need to choose a more favorable moment. And now she was waiting for a groom and a black carriage, which would be fit more for the funeral. In such a place in the other and you will not come. She was not even let to visit the territory of the monastery. Everyone who saw her was turned away from her as from the plague. Madmen who pray on the statues and do not want to notice living people! Josselin looked at one of the winged sculptures in the altar and felt suddenly such humiliated, as if she was crawling on