«Yes,» she answered without thinking. «In addition to you, I have no one.»
Such sincere recognition would not leave even Vincent indifferent. Rose made it clear that only I had spoken sincerely to her. Or maybe she meant that no one in this huge castle wanted to understand her, look into her soul and discover surprising gifts there. I could not read her thoughts, they were not available to me. To read the thoughts of other people, I could, as the revealed book, but in the case of Rose, this book was closed.
In any case, now I felt obliged to stand up on the protection of an offended child. Sometimes Rose reminded me of a very beautiful doll, which by chance fell in bad hands. I could not leave her without comfort and therefore, despite the risk, I returned every night to her, flew through the window, and only if she slept accepted the visible human appearance. It looked like in the early youth, it was familiar to me how to hide in emptiness or fly over the world on gold wings. It remained only to hope that no one would look into the bedroom of Rose and would not see the angel to pray at her bed. In fact, I did not pray, I simply did not remember any prayers. I also believed that for the magician it was sinful to pronounce them. I kneel on the bed of Rose only to read my spells over her. My black magic gradually tied us to a solid thread.
Most often I brought to Rose some gifts small, but graceful little things. There were many in my treasury. I had no opportunity to catch her thoughts and thus find out what she would prefer, I chose, relying on my own taste. I remembered that Florian taught me if you wanted to like the girl, more often would make her gifts and be as polite as possible. The beauty would not endure the rude pass even from the prince. Following this advice, I brought to Rose some gifts: a necklace, a diadem or just a thread of a large pearls, but Rose was not one of those whom you could make only gifts. She wanted to see me. It was immediately clear that Rose was not going to endure it for a long time.
For me, the very presence in the castle was rather uncomfortable. I had the pressure on the skin of someone elses and very strong magic. Sometimes it even seemed to me that it was time to leave on the pillow of Rose the last gift, a black velvet mask, and fly forever, but nevertheless I returned every time, getting ready for a feeling of discomfort, which would certainly pursue me in the castle of Odil.
Its time to end with night visits and all this gloomy romance. If I continue such a pastime, the affairs of the Empire will be neglected as the control over Lara and the decoding of the scrolls. Another would be satisfied on my place that he picked up a rip out of a ribbon, but it was not enough for me. I was increasingly convinced that it was not for Rose a place among people. The otherworldly world attracted her, as it long ago attracted me.
Once I had urgently to fly away, because the maid knocked up to Rose. I accidentally took with me some subject. It was a book in soft leather binding. My first thought was that it should be returned back, but gradually good intentions were destroyed and I revealed the book, probably because I knew in advance this was a diary of princess.
What did she write?
«The sixth of July: A new minstrel appeared in the castle. It was useless to ask seneschal about who accepted him to work, let him in the castles gate, a young man, as if arose from emptiness and now played on every feast. He is ugly, possibly because of too much tan, but the sounds of his viola enchant animals. When he plays the canaries in the cage behave as if they are ready to fulfill any of his order, and hunting dogs fearfully pumped to the walls when the minstrel passes by them. Often I catch his look on me. He looks as if he knows what I think. Only magicians looked at those who were stamped with evil. I begin to think about it, and suddenly this minstrel knows that at night he visits me Someone, unnamed, invisible and mysterious.»
Then it became more interesting. I knew that I had no right to read it, but I could not keep from reading it.
«The seventh of July: I again heard his voice coming from emptiness. I almost feel his touch. I no longer ask him «Who are you,» because I know in advance the answer. Are you a dream, an illusion, a self-deception? I am not a sacrifice for any of these three assumptions. Now I know for sure, I have an invisible friend.
The eighth of July: Shantel caught my hand in a dark corridor, where there was no one except for us two, and I was afraid. Of all the royal spinners, Shantel is the strangest. Her cats eyes seem to look into the soul and laugh at what they see there. She did not threaten me, did not try to scratch with her sharp nails, but it was still scary to me. Shantel resembles a predator, a well-groomed, spoiled panther, which does not hunt because the hungry, but simply from the whim. She looked at me for a long time, and then called the poor thing, shook her head sympathetically and added that I probably didnt even suspect that the demon visited me. In her, everything is a false pretence. You can not believe her words, but this time it was difficult not to believe. Well, if she is right, then it means that I am in love with the demon.
The ninth of July: Im waiting again that he will appear to me. Shantel advised me to lock all the windows overnight. Im afraid, no matter how she tried to prevent his arrival, because then she will make me doubly unhappy. If only annoying courtiers did not insistently climbed into someone elses case, then it would be much easier to live.
Tenth of July: Last night an incredible happened. I saw him and found out. I woke up somewhere at midnight, looked at the night starry sky and the silhouette of an excellent gold-haired young man appeared in the opening of the arched window. There are no such as he in the capital or at the court. He seemed to come from another world that world where there are elves with pale flickering skin and other creatures unknown to us. My first thought was that the window is located on the very top floor of the castle, it is impossible to get it just like that, and even if my bedroom was located at the very bottom it is necessary to overcome the moat. The night guest flew over the ground, and his cloak waved in the wind, like a live flap of fire, red against a dark sky. I do not remember I climbed the windowsill before he stretched me a hand or after, I remember only a mad flying over the sleeping capital, the cycle of colors, sounds, night lights. The whole city was lying down under us, as in some fabulous dream, the attic pipes, the spire of the town hall, the dome of the cathedral, the road, twisted past the houses, and even covered with skin a roof of some crew.
I clung to camisole of one who carried me over the earth, without even immediately realizing that it was not natural for a person, but unnatural. He easily descended down, in the city, we fell on the roof of the crew and the fast wind, having fun, hit our faces. Laughter of my satellite resembled a silver chime. We both laughed, because we had fun to rush along the sleeping city on a flat roof of the carriage. Horses anxiously rusted, having honed the presence of strangers. In order not to fall, I tried to hold on to my mysterious acquaintance all the time, and when the next morning I woke up, it would be that all this was a dream, if there was not a polished gold button, pulled with a piece of pale blue brocade in my hand.
Now I have a proof that all this was not a dream. So, the voice sounding from emptiness was not a self-deception and not in a dream I saw how the bone comb flew into the air to comb my hair. It was in the hand of an invisible guest. I hope this guest will come»