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«What could be worse than falling off a dragon’s back and being smashed to bits?»
«It is being eaten by a dragon,» Edwin said helpfully.
«Your dragon eats people?»
«Sometimes he burns them,» was the streamlined answer.
«If you bring him to our feast and he manages to squeeze through the door, he should be offered a meat menu. I’ll keep that in mind.»
«What if the dragon decides to snack on the guests?»
«My father often has strange guests, so I don’t mind, as long as he doesn’t touch any of my family.»
«How easily you bargained with the dragon,» Edwin laughed again.
What did he find so funny about such horrifying topics? Flora felt uneasy.
«If you can persuade your dragon to eat the witch who lurks in my father’s castle, I’m welcome. I don’t feel sorry for witches,» Flora joked.
«And if the witch is you?»
«I’m definitely not a witch!»
«Can you prove it?»
«Witches are old, scary and fly at night on broomsticks.»
«Some witches are young and attractive,» Edwin said with the confidence of a connoisseur.
«But everyone flies on broomsticks.»
«So if you fly, you’ll think you’re a witch?» Edwin suddenly switched to «you,» as if he were an old friend, and put his arm around Flora’s waist.
«I won’t fly, because I don’t have wings like a fairy. Nor can I fly with brooms like a witch.»
«But you can dance with me. Maybe something will come out of it.»
«I don’t think a dance will make a flight,» Flora put her hand in Edwin’s confidently. He danced a circle with her across the roof and then suddenly pulled her away from the hard surface. Flora thought he was only helping her to jump up in the dance, but as time passed, she felt no ground beneath her feet. Edwin continued to lead her in the dance already through the air. They danced over the parapet of the roof, then over the garden. In another moment, they would rise into the starry sky.
«You’re an elf! That’s why you’re flying!» Flora tried to feel for the wings behind his back, but only touched his cloak.
«I’m only proving to you that you’re a witch, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to fly at night over the castle.»
«That’s cheating! You flew me!»
«Only witches can communicate with spirits who take them on night flights.»
Flora didn’t know what to say. Edwin had stumped her. He reluctantly returned her to the roof and muttered.
«You’re a witch after all, if you’ve managed to charm me.»
Only a witch could charm an elf, Flora suggested.
«I didn’t mean it,» she squeaked, but Edwin suddenly decided to give her a gift – a rose from the flames. The flower came out of nowhere and burned in his hand. The petals, the stem, and even the thorns of the rose were made of fire.
«Take it!»
«I’ll burn myself,» Flora was frightened, but Edwin put the fiery rose into her hand, and surprisingly, she was not burned.
But Edwin himself disappeared as if he had never been there.
A real witch
«Flora de Rione!» The mask suddenly called her by name.
«How did you know my full name?» Flora glanced warily at the mask, which was squirming and making funny faces in her hands. The holder grew hot.
«Oh, put that disgusting thing away!» The mask wailed. Its thin voice resembled a ringing sound. It seemed that it wasn’t the mask screaming, but the vase shattered and the shards fell to the floor.
«What do you mean?»
«It is this one!»
«Is it a flower?» Flora was astonished. Why didn’t the mask like flowers?
The mask blinked its empty eye sockets in agreement.
«And hurry up!»
«But it’s not disgusting! It’s a rose!»
«It’s fire! I’ll burn myself on it!»
«I don’t burn myself on it. You’re too sensitive for a gold plate,» Flora held the flaming stem in her hand and didn’t even feel the heat.
«You look dead,» the mask squinted at her. «You are senseless, like a corpse.»
«Are you insulting me?»
«I’m just characterizing you. How can a living girl not get burned by fire? Only the dead aren’t afraid of pain.»
«Maybe the rose is enchanted.»
It was given by a wizard who can fly and wields a dragon! Flora’s never had such a friend before. It’s not a friend, it’s a fairy tale! If only he hadn’t forgotten about the dinner invitation. Flora was afraid of losing such an acquaintance. Where else would she meet a magician? A new friend could be useful. If you asked a wizard for a favor, he’d roll mountains.
The mask whimpered and whined, fearing the flames from the rose would disfigure it.
«I’ll melt!» She whimpered.
«It is all right,» Flora stuck the rose into the empty hole in the candelabra.
The mask took a breath of relief. Then suddenly it cried out again in terror. Flora carried it right over the fireplace.
«Ouch, it’s hot!» The mask began to melt right in Flora’s hands, but when she took it to the shade, the melted edges were immediately restored.
«How magical you are!» Flora marveled.
«And you’re magical too!»
«What makes you think so?»
«Fire doesn’t burn you.»
«It doesn’t?» Flora thought it was funny. She put her hand to the fire in the fireplace. Indeed, it doesn’t feel hot. Flora moved her hand lower right up to the tongues of flame. It didn’t feel hot, no burn left on her palm.
«Maybe communing with a wizard conferred magic? By the way, I wonder who lit the fireplace at this late hour. All the servants are asleep.»
«No, it is not all of them,» determined the mask, listening to the silence. Her golden ears perked up. «Someone is wandering the corridor.»
«I don’t see anyone. Maybe it’s my brother back from the village tavern. He drinks there and plays cards all night long.»
«No, it’s not Rafael de Rione,» the mask objected.
«How do you even know my brother’s name? Do you read people’s minds?»
«No, I read the inscriptions on your coats of arms, shields and tapestries.»
Flora only now noticed the commemorative plaques on the walls. There they marked victories in war, weddings, birth dates, and, naturally, birth names. But the letters were so small that you couldn’t read them without a magnifying glass, and the plaques themselves were high up under the arches of the entrances. You’d have to have wings to fly up to them and read them. The plaques were for fashion, not for information.
«You have a dragon’s eyesight,» Flora praised.
«I can also flap my wings and fly to the ceiling,» the mask boasted.
«Don’t show me to Edwin,» the mask squeaked.
«Why is it not? Do you think you’re ugly? Or are you afraid he’ll cast a spell on you? You’re already bewitched.»
The mask remained silent, though Flora shook it this way and that.
«I am not a toy!» Tired of being squeezed, the mask finally declared. «Treat me gently. I am your friend from now on.»
Flora had never had a friend before. After all, there is no one to get acquainted with, and to be friends with peasants does not allow etiquette. But with a magic mask can safely be friends with a marquise, and even the queen. Magic is a rank above earthly titles and privileges.
«There is someone nearby,» the mask warned again. Its whisper sounded like the hiss of melting metal.
This time the mask was right. An old housekeeper named Drusilla was awake. She was sitting on the sill of an open window, stroking her broom lovingly for some reason. The old woman was wearing a pointed hat and a dark dress, the kind of dress one normally wears to a funeral. Where were the cream-colored collars and lace that the housekeeper usually wore?
«See you later!» The housekeeper waved to the stars as if they were her friends and hurried forward down the hall. There was no bunch of keys in her hands, but she somehow managed to open the door at the end of the hallway. Flora didn’t remember there being a door here before. At the end of the hallway, there was usually a dead end. Apparently, the dead end has a sliding panel. Either there’s a hiding place behind it, or some kind of utility room. The smell of herbs wafted from it.
Drusilla entered a secret room where a cauldron was sizzling and bundles of black herbs were drying. The mirror on the wall suddenly reflected a young, attractive brunette in a black dress instead of the kind old woman. The pointed black hat suited her well. If not for the lack of wings, the stranger could be mistaken for a black fairy.
Flora cautiously followed Drusilla. The reflection in the mirror winked at her.
«Are you spying, my lady?»
Flora gasped, and the coal-black cat jumped to her feet and glared at her with yellow eyes.
«To me, Blackie!» Drusilla’s voice called. It was suddenly young and sonorous.
Flora peeped through the door of the secret room. The room looked like a kitchen. Bundles of herbs hung around, jars of powders, probably condiments, stood on shelves. Except that the skull between them was definitely not part of the kitchen arsenal. Its eyes flashed red fire. Bats gathered under the ceiling.
«How tiresome is to wear a mask!» Drusilla shook herself off, as if from dust, and suddenly became young and pretty. Flora gasped. Before her stood a lady with a wasp waist, matte skin, and high breasts in a black lace corsage. Her blue-black curls ran down below her waist. They seemed like living snakes.
The metamorphosis was astounding. Only the black cat was already used to her mistress’s transformation. It jumped nimbly on Drusilla’s shoulder and mewed something in her ear, evidently to Flora, for Drusilla stared at the doorway.
«Come in, mistress!» she called. «Don’t stand on the threshold like a stranger.»
Long black nails beckoned Flora inside. The girl entered reluctantly. The door behind her back did not slam shut. Apparently, Drusilla had put the whole castle to sleep.
Oh, my! The old housekeeper Drusilla, who always looked after Flora, was a witch with a black cat on her shoulder.
«Drusilla! So you’re a witch?»
«Shh!» Drusilla put a black fingernail to her lips.
That’s who Edwin meant! There is indeed a real witch in the castle!
«It was a good thing Blackie noticed you,» Drusilla petted the cat. «Otherwise I wouldn’t have shown you the respect you deserve and would have been blacklisted from the Magic Empire.»
«What are you talking about?»
Drusilla suddenly crouched down in front of Flora in a curtsy as if she were a princess.
«You don’t think I’m the queen of witches, do you?» Flora hesitated. And even if Drusilla thinks she is the witch lord, it’s good for her. Since the witch respects her, it means she won’t turn on her. Good! Flora pretended to understand and took it as a sign of respect. The main thing is not to be exposed.
«So you remembered who you are, Mistress?»
«I haven’t forgotten that,» Flora didn’t remember having recurring amnesia recently. Yes, there had been lapses of memory, but who she was, Flora remembered perfectly. She is the only daughter of the honorable Marquis de Rione. There’s no confusing her! Drusilla had certainly mistaken her for someone else. Maybe witchery makes witches misunderstand.
«So that’s how cunning you are!» Drusilla was truly gloating. «You just pretended to be oblivious! You’re a true witch lord!»
«I’d rather be a fairy lord,» said Flora, remembering the winged beauties’ sharp claws and stubborn temper. Then she would have tamed them.
«Don’t they obey you anymore?» Drusilla gasped with genuine indignation. «Oh, they are rebellious! Report them to the Emperor of all evil spirits.»
«I don’t even know him,» Fora faltered again, noticing Drusilla’s indignation. «I don’t want to go to him now,» she corrected quickly.
«It’s true. You did prefer to do everything behind his back. That’s the right thing to do! Men should be led around by the nose. I’ve seduced a couple of sorcerer kings, too.»
