Читать книгу Dragon Bride - Natalie Yacobson - Страница 10

The winged creatures were hovering in a dance over the halls, partly overgrown with moss. A carpet of leaves grew in the galleries, partly framed by trees rather than walls, and it was pleasant to tread on, even barefoot. But the pixies, too, had taken up residence in it. The little creatures were scandalous. Clement began to fear them.

The reflections of the elves in the mirrors were very willful and behaved very differently from their owners. Often they squirmed and mimicked the movements of their owners.

«The looking glass is a world of its own, and it has its own rules,» Raymonda said. Clement was in amazement.

It shocked him even more than the fact that the palace had no roof but a starry sky.

«Why did we come here?» Clement gazed in amazement at the enchanting surroundings, wondering if he would be driven away as an extra.

«To see my kin,» she urged him forward, first through the network of forest paths and now through a palace composed half of trees and half of walls and columns.

«Who is your kinsman?» Clement looked doubtfully at the winged creatures. Raymonda has no wings behind her. How could she be related to any of the natives? Usually the relatives are very similar.

«The elves are my distant kin,» Raymonda explained. «Abraham’s already told you, and you’re so untrusting.»

«Lost all your trust while you were running through the woods from the Shai killers,» Clement muttered. His quiver of arrows and crossbow were still hidden beneath his broad, rough shirt. Though his fiancée might be a dragon, he had to be prepared to defend himself as well.

The winged pairs were dancing over a carpet of moss.

«Is it a party every night?»

«It’s not a party,» Raymonda said. «It’s just an evening.»

«Which one’s your kin?»

«He is the local ruler.»

«Oh, well!» Clement could barely keep up with the bride on the moss-covered steps. The stairs went up into the starry heavens. The roofless palace had many galleries and passageways that practically hung high, leaning on nothing. Such a structure was meant for inhabitants who possessed wings rather than legs. Clement found it difficult to keep up with Raymonde. She could fly, but he had to jump over gaps where there was no floor or steps. One of the halls was like a giant mushroom, another was a living flowerbed of whispering forget-me-nots, and the third was as if the sea was imprisoned. The floor was of waves, and the walls of shells. Clement nearly drowned and crumpled several times as he reached the wing, which Raymonda called the Chateau of the Rulers.

«And all this luxury is hidden in the woods!» Clement marveled.

«That’s the realm of the wood elves,» said Raymonda, listening beyond the walls of the chateau. «There’s a Council going on. The elves are as anxious as you are about what comes next. But they will pause for my sake. I want you to meet the only relatives who aren’t bewitched.»

Bas-reliefs in the form of masks squinted slyly at Clement from the arches and walls. The rulers’ chateau had enough walls, as did the ceilings, but the dome gazebo was transparent to see the starry skies, and the halls themselves had unusual trees growing from the floor.

«There’s my kin over there,» Raymonda hurried toward the gathering of blond, winged beauties dressed in sparkling robes. Clement remained on the threshold, timid.

He had seen ambassadors and princes from many powers. But they were elves! Real elves! And he wore rough clothes, like a plowman. How can one not be embarrassed?

The elf with the crown glittering on his forehead looked happily at Raymonda. He was blown away as soon as he noticed that she had company.

«Behave yourself, Lourel!» She commanded, apparently to the king himself. «Don’t ruin tonight by summoning a storm. I demand that you ensure the safety of all humans who wander into the elves’ forest palace tonight, by accident or design.»

«Or you’ll burn us all?» Arrogant Lourel obviously knows her habits well. «Or will you chain us up like your Livellin’s clan?»

For some reason Raymonda blushed in shame. She seemed to have a guilty conscience about something. Clement concluded, quite justifiably, that there was a power struggle going on in her realm as well. Apparently, having become a dragon, she feels she must succeed her brothers to the throne. By the way, does she have any brothers? It is besides the elves? And what if they too are bewitched into dragons?

In a large luxurious hall, where flowering lianas stretched along the walls and columns instead of tapestries and stucco, a magnificent elves’ society was gathered. Elf men were in the majority, but a few beautiful ladies with translucent wings were present as well. From their chirping bird-like speech, Clement heard that Lourel was the local prince, not the king, and Raymonda’s cousin.

What a cousin! He has real wings behind his back, and blond hair down below his shoulders, and a hoop of live silver snakes crawling across his forehead, hissing slightly.

Clement didn’t want to meet him at all, but Lourel had already spotted him.

«Is he your dinner?» The elf prince turned to Raymonda. «Oh, I mean, hostage…»

The mistake in the speech was deliberate, Lourel grinned defiantly.

«He is my fiancé!» She corrected him.

«Is he your fiancé?» The pretty elves’ ladies jumped up in surprise and froze in midair. «You have a fiancé! And you still have not burned him!»

«He is not even burned!«The elf-woman with the rainbow wings, panted, and groped him. Though he was afraid of being tickled, he tolerated the touch of the elf-woman. He couldn’t keep the magic lady away from him.

«Leave him alone, Clariel!» Raymonda said.

Reluctantly, Clariel flew away from Clement. Her friends, wearing colorful wreaths and glittering wings, began whispering vigorously.

«Raymonda’s fiancé! Even the inaccessible Raymonda, who had only mocked everyone, was capable of falling in love with someone! It’s true that love is even stronger than magic!»

«These are my cousins, Narcissa, Freesia, Irisa, Heather, and Clariel,» Raymonda said.

The pretty elves surrounded Clement in a jiffy. They scented wildflowers and wings sprinkled with glittering pollen.

«What was so special about him?» Freesia pouted, crankily. «What makes him so different from all the others you’ve rejected?»

«He’s a Prince of Aluar.»

«Is he a prince?» They changed their attitudes toward Clement at once. Indifference was blown away like a magic wind and flirtation began.

«He is Prince of Aluar, he is not elf!» Lourel corrected with a jealous intonation.

«But he is a real prince all the same!» Fresia expressed her delight. «Raymonda was quite understandable.»

«I should like a prince too!» Irisa gasped.

«So would I!» Heather picked up on that.

«I would too!» The elves all chirped. «Because the only people who come to the forest are peasants, rarely messengers. Could you find us all a prince to bring here?»

Lurel snorted irritably.

«Suddenly there was such a big demand for princes on earth! It is because the boy is handsome. Raymonda loves a good-looking brunette or brown-haired boy. Blondes, on the other hand, are no good to her.»

The elf shook his mane of blond hair angrily and suddenly turned a brunette.

«You can’t impress me with tricks like that,» she rebuked him coldly.

Lourel turned red with anger and cunning. She had to hand it to him. His fiery red hair looked lovely, though it was distantly reminiscent of fox hide. He was just waiting for an angry elf to turn foxy and maul his rival.

«I’ll challenge him to a duel!» The elf prince gritted his teeth. «Then we shall see what a hero he is!»

«Don’t dare!» Suddenly Raymonda was nervous. Apparently, Lourel had become quite famous for his fighting skills. Had the Princess not been a dragon herself, Clement would have believed the jealous elf prince had killed every man she wanted to marry. Lourel was itching to go to the fray. He clutched convulsively at the armrests of his throne. Evidently, elves’ tradition forbade combat without a formal challenge and seconds. A formal challenge, however, was quickly followed. The elves surrounding Clement whispered in his ears that he could not refuse. Clement freed himself from their clinging hands and noticed that some of their fingers had turned into twigs stuck to his shirt. The whispers of the beauties also resembled the rustling of falling leaves.

«So what is it?» Lourel showed impatience. «Shall we fight like knights? And see if you, mortal prince, are worthy of such a prize as the beautiful Raymonda.»

Clement felt trapped. He would lose with a sword, but he had a chance with a bow. All he had to do was twist so that he could leave the choice of weapon up to himself. Usually it’s the one who challenges, which in this case is Lourel.

«Leave him alone!» Raymonda frowned. «Everyone knows that fighting against you is suicide. Are you so unhappy that I am back that you want to greet me with bloodshed?»