Natalie Yacobson - Rhianon-2. Princess of Fire and the Winged Warrior

«It is like picking up a companion spirit,» she teased him.

«Well…» Orpheus didn’t find something to say, probably for the first time in all eternity, and so he looked bewildered.

She was glad. So it was possible to surprise or offend him to the point where he would stop talking. Or maybe she should just not answer him so he’d shut up. His chatter would soon give her a headache. Rhianon sighed and reached for the opened door. Was the light really an illusion, or was a rainbow sheltering beyond the threshold? Her fingers touched the doorjamb, her movements unsure.

«You don’t have to follow me if you don’t want to,» she muttered, and involuntarily dropped her gaze to the hem of her dress. It was stained. There weren’t many red stains from blood drops, but they stood out sharply against the pale blue fabric.

«You don’t have your uniform yet,» someone said behind her, but not Orpheus. The voice was clearly that of a woman. Rhianon turned around and spotted the same couple at the end of the dark corridor. Strangely, their black outfits instead of blending into the darkness stood out sharply against her. She only recognized them by their clothes, though if black outfits were the uniform for everyone here, then the lady and the gentleman might not have been the ones she’d seen at the masquerade at all. They could have been other students of the School of Witchcraft dressed exactly the same. Yet something told her it was them. She liked the lady’s dress, which exposed her shoulders and was embellished with puffy trim, but she herself would have preferred men’s clothing. She was tired of dresses. She would have felt more comfortable in velvet breeches and a black camisole than in a corset that restrained her.

As soon as she looked away from the strange couple and glanced at herself, everything changed. There was white lace stretching across her breasts in place of the dainty cleavage. On her hands she noticed dark lapels and puffy cuffs. Diamond cufflinks gleamed slightly. Gold thread was gracefully woven into the white lace.

«It’s a privilege,» Orpheus remarked, «it’s obvious you’re special.»

Rhianon examined her black camisole. Just the way she wanted it. The wall next to her, which had been dark until recently, suddenly showed her a mirrored reflection. The costume looked good on her. The black was such a shade for her golden hair and pale skin. For a moment Rhianon studied the mirror reflection, tinged with a light haze. It was as if she did not know it. Who was this girl? Was she the perfect student of the School of Witchcraft? No, it was as if she was already standing on her way out of here, though she was still wearing her uniform, there was something childish or boyish about her, but it was immediately obvious that she was a seductive beauty.

The wall went dark again, and Rhianon turned away from her. And then, despite Orpheus’ protests, she opened the door and stepped into some room. At first she thought it was quite small, but in a moment she realized that she had miscalculated. In only a second it seemed to have grown in size, and it was already an entire miniature universe. Behind the huge windows stretched a starry night. For some reason only the heavens were visible, as if the earth was far away, and the hall itself was high above the Earth’s expanse. Rhianon was only confused by the bleachers placed there in a circle instead of the desks. They left vacant only a large circle in the center, as if a performance was being prepared here. One of the stands at the end of the hall seemed very much like a pulpit set up for a teacher or a judge. Somehow she found the latter suggestion absurd, but she couldn’t shake the intuition that it was not only a place of teaching and performance. There were also trials. Who and why would be tried in a place whose mere existence was probably against the law. If people found out about such a place, they would come here with a crowd of inquisitors and executioners. Yes, it is, and the supernatural beings seemed to be against humans being likened to them here. Rhianon could not understand the purpose of the strange objects in this hall. She ran her fingertips over the lid of some desk, shooting golden sparks out of the walnut wood.

«What is this place?» She asked Orpheus, when her own attempts to guess were in vain.

«It is the corner of the School of Witchcraft,» he looked around enigmatically, «it is an assembly or courtroom, they too have their own problems, inventions, and laws.»

He shrugged indefinitely, and it was clear he had nothing more to say.

«I wonder if that’s how you learn magic and pay for it.» She ran her slender fingers over the desk once more, almost shooting out a flame, but she jerked her hand away just in time.

«And your magic is stronger,» Orpheus remarked, as if casually. «Students can’t use their charms in this room, but you can. Perhaps you have great power.»

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