Mirielle woke up in the dark. The fairy's sharp eyesight immediately adapted to the darkness. The girl looked at the canopy above the small bed. The chair at the head end and inside. The gypsy Shavra.
She sat still, closed her eyes and leaned her neck against the high back of the chair. It was as if she was asleep. But as soon as Mirielle looked at her, the woman opened her eyes and met the fairy's eyes.
Now Mirielle saw that she was not a gypsy. She would have had a hat on her head - a natural witch. But what race?
In her hometown the fairy had never seen anyone like her before. There was no such race on Remidey. Who is she? What language did she and the man speak before Miri passed out?
- Our breed is called Sherihah," Shavra's deep, hoarse voice sounded. - You are right, she is not on Remidea. You are on Mercan.
- But how?!
How did Miriel get to Mercana? How did Shavra hear questions the fairy didn't ask out loud? The girl was shocked by both.
The shepherd witch ignored the amazing cry.
- By the way, my name is Orshava. I am a magician, so I know how to hear his thoughts. As far as I know, the Remidian magicians also know how to do that.
A magician. Now it is clear. So, a real witch. And definitely evil.
The last thought about Miriel was especially clear - that Shavra-Orshava must have heard for sure! She freaked out.
- Life here is evil, fairy. We have to adapt. Soon you will understand.
- Why did you bring me here?! And how?
- The magic of the portal. My grandmaster opened the portal between this castle and the circus tent where we met. And I brought you through the portal.
- A portal? The Grand Master?
- Now you will see it. He is already on his way here. But you saw him yesterday. Today you must. To get to know each other better.
She smiled at those words. The laughter made her face even more unpleasant, even darker. And angrier.
- Where is Dale?! What have you done with him?
- That's what we want to ask you. Where would your boy disappear in a few minutes? Without a trace. So I couldn't smell him. The aura.
Mirielle's heart was relieved. Dale was saved! They didn't catch him!
Orshava was angry.
- Take your time, fairy. We will find him. With your help.
She will help them die the bald man! I can hardly wait! Orshava grinned dirty again. Is it impossible to hide a single thought from her?
The witch opened her mouth and probably wanted to answer the unanswered question again. But not in time. The door opened. A bright light broke out. Mirielle closed her eyes to the unexpected. And when she opened her eyes again, a man stood at her bed. Big, broad-shouldered, with short hair, dark as tar.
Miriel saw the unusual cut of his shirts. On Remidea the men wore long and spacious sleeves. And the sleeve of their thief only reached his elbow. The dense fabric lay on the embossed muscles on her forearm. Under the elbow, thick hair - as thick and resinous as men's hair - covered the naked, dark skin.
She looked up at his face. A broad forehead, a large nose with a hump, a willful chin. Thin lips are tightly and vigorously compressed. Under the thick, bushy eyebrows looked absolutely black eyes, and in those eyes - blatant male interest, well known to Miriel.
She already felt it in herself today. This look pierced her under the diamond helmet, in the stone hall, where the girl was moved by the cursed portal.
Mirielle sat on the bed, wrapped in a blanket. The man hung over her like an oak tree over a cane. If she knew how to be afraid, she would be afraid now. But Miriel was a fairy. Instead of fear there was anger in her.
What right does this man have to regard her as his own property? Every stroke in his face screamed that he was the absolute master of everything. He was used to leadership and control. And he does not tolerate anyone acting against his will.
But Miriel is not a thing. He wrapped it with magic, like a wolf, and pulled it violently to the other side of the world. He, not Orshava. She just listened to him. As the maid of the master. And now he has her locked up in this room. The director has put her in charge. He looks as if he wants to eat.
Let him look until his eyes jump on his forehead. By the way, beautiful eyes. Black, deeply planted. Only hard and cold, as a smile on his thin lips.