4

It had grown dark. Torches burned, well soaked with oil. The castle stood a little apart from the settlement, on a hill before a small forest. From the window one could see how much the human town had grown during the century Aaliya had slept.

Dogs in the courtyard barked, demanding food, while the horses snorted irritably—the noise kept them from sleeping. Near the kitchen, the stablehand was cooking porridge with bones for the dogs over a fire, in a large cauldron.

Aaliya knew the dogs were barking not from hunger, but because they sensed her presence. Of course they did—a vast, powerful dragon had entered their castle. In theory, if she wished, she could have devoured all the residents. However, dragons possessed keen intuition and sharp minds, and indulged in such cruel feasts only when they felt complete impunity, and merely for amusement. The girl had always stayed far from that path—especially since her beloved was human.

She hurriedly closed the shutters. Fog was creeping in, and the chill of autumn had already settled.

“Kyyy—” something rustled inquisitively near the table.

Aaliya turned and saw Barachi—a green, shaggy, levitating creature, the companion of that young man.

The room where she was waiting for the maid, Micha, held a small velvet sofa, chests and wardrobes made of thick wood. On the table, covered with a lace tablecloth, stood vases with flowers already dried out.

“Hm, are you watching me?” Aaliya smiled, baring her fangs as she bent toward the shaggy magical beast. Barachi grinned with his square teeth and began sniffing around the room, licking dust and cobwebs from the floor.

“Foo-foo-foo,” he made wet sounds, twitching his fur and drooling slightly.

She remembered these creatures—inhabitants of swamps, feeders on carrion. It was strange that he had chosen a human as his companion. Most likely, his pack had wandered far from these lands.

The door creaked open.

“Oh, forgive the delay! I was trying to find a dress in your size,” Micha appeared, carrying clothes, a basin, and a whole bucket of water.

“I placed the water closer to the fireplace so it had time to warm a little.”

“Thank you,” Aaliya said, pulling her hood lower to better hide her hair and horns. “I’m used to washing in cold water, so there’s no need to worry.”

“Oh, wow, that’s impressive,” Micha perked up. “I thought all nobles never touched cold water, haha—especially ladies.”

She clumsily dropped the basin with a loud clatter and handed the dress to Aaliya.

“Yes, well, it’s not customary to discuss the temperament of the lord of the castle and his family. I was simply lucky to get work here—it’s safe and warm, there’s always food and excellent pay,” the girl chattered on.

Aaliya took the basin and bucket behind the screen and decided to wash there—the chatty maid clearly had no intention of leaving. Since Micha was a woman, she felt no particular embarrassment; all that remained was to hope the girl wouldn’t notice either her tail or her horns. Micha continued:

“Our duke, Seren Ibsen, manages the region’s economy very well. He values his reputation—people from all over the kingdom would gladly live here. It’s very important to him that his sons don’t ruin everything he’s been building his entire life. One can understand him…”

“Yes, yes,” Aaliya murmured, washing her hair.

“Master Dan and his brother Peter stopped getting along especially after the tragic accident, when their younger sister died in the swamp—the poor girl… And now they’re about to come of age. The duke plans to depart on an expedition as soon as Lake Ragok freezes, and he wants to see who will prove himself better during the journey.”

“Hm? So that means they’re traveling as a whole family?”

“Well… At first, Master Seren had no intention of taking Dan along at all. Their mother, Lady Diana, made him change his mind. I think he did it to quiet the rumors in the city—but everything is already decided. It’s clear that the title will be inherited by Master Peter. He will simply drive Dan away… once he gains full power. Dan’s future wife has no chance of receiving any inheritance here.”

“A future wife? So the young man already has a fiancée?” Aaliya asked in surprise, fastening her dress and hiding her hair beneath a towel.

“Yes, of course—and your dress as well… Oh, my lady, you should dry your hair as soon as possible! Come closer to the fireplace, or you’ll catch a chill!”

Micha pulled her toward the small fireplace in the middle of the room to light it. Barachi floated after them, sneezing. She fussed with the fire steel for a long time—the logs had grown completely damp. Seeing this, Aaliya cast a sharp glance at the wood, and in an instant a fire flared up.

“Oh!” Micha jumped back. “Ha-ha! Sometimes I feel that the old story about the castle’s ghost from a thousand years ago—the one who betrayed his dragon lover—might actually be true. So many strange things happen here from time to time…” She grew embarrassed.

“Please, take a seat. And don’t pay attention to Barachi—he’s not usually so… um… clingy.”

At last, the maid left, and Aaliya let her lilac hair fall loose. Washing up after a thousand years of sleep had not been a bad idea. She stretched—and her stomach growled. Barachi growled too:

“Nge-nge-nge.”

“Yes, I wouldn’t mind trying some boar as well—but not raw,” Aaliya said to him.

Dan, having also washed and changed after the road, was sitting in the kitchen, watching as the cook Janet skillfully sliced and fried vegetables in a huge cast-iron pan under the muted, dim glow of the torches.

Potatoes were boiling, pieces of chicken sizzled beneath spices, and carrots simmered slowly.

Despite her considerable weight, she was a true master of her craft—remarkably silent in her movements, never clattering dishes, and not a single stain marked her shining white cook’s coat. Janet was the personal cook of the duke’s family; guests were served by other professionals in a separate kitchen.

The kitchen itself had stone walls and was filled with hanging herbs, small and large cookware, jugs of soaked fruits, and a massive table. At its heart stood a large oven for roasting and baking, decorated with carved patterns.

Dan sat in the corner, leaning against the table. He seemed lost in thought, staring intently at the hilt of the Jadán sword—everything that remained of his hope to gain strength and defeat his brother. The blade was rusted, with a single clouded ruby set at its center. Could a blacksmith reforged it once more?

Wet Nurse Prekarda noticed his gaze.

“Hm, did you find that in those burial grounds, Master Dan?” she asked him in an aged voice, smiling.

Startled, Dan hid the hilt back into his bag.

“Not a very rich haul?” she inquired gently.

Nurse Prekarda usually sat in the kitchen, knitting scarves. It was warm there for her old bones, smelled delicious, and spared her from having to climb the castle’s steep staircases too often. Janet and the maid Micha often kept her company.

“Not exactly,” Dan blushed. Everyone here knew he refused to give up, even though the duke had already made his decision regarding the inheritance. Dan’s only remaining function was political—namely, marriage.

Janet set out a pot of potatoes, plates of meat and vegetables, and brought out butter from the cool cellar.

“Hm, where did I put the sauce?” she wondered aloud, peering into the cupboards.

The small jar of spicy tomato sauce with zucchini was found just as quickly.

Something clattered at the doorway.

“Oh, sorry!” Micha squeaked. “I think I knocked over all those mops again. Why do we even keep them here?”

“For security,” Janet replied. “The moment guards—or anyone else—decide to sneak into my cellar for infusions, food, or frying wine, I’ll immediately find a proper use for every single one of those mops!”

“That’s without me,” Dan raised his hands in surrender. “I always eat strictly by your schedule.”

Micha burst into laughter as she stacked the mops in the corner. At that moment, Aaliya appeared in the doorway, and Barachi flew in as well—bumping straight into Dan’s head.

Aaliya had transformed, now resembling a lovely young woman in a long dark-red velvet dress with a black corset and a white blouse embroidered with green leaves. A circlet crowned with golden berries rested on her head, concealing her small horns.

Her tail flicked slightly from excitement at the number of people present, and Dan flushed nervously. It was difficult to explain what kind of demon he had brought into the castle—especially given his already unsteady position.

“Oh, your guest is ready, Master Dan!” said Micha.

“Please, come to the table,” Janet invited.

“Thank you,” Aaliya replied, bowing politely as she took her seat.

They lit the table candles and began their hearty meal.

After the warm mulled wine, Aaliya fully relaxed and felt ready to play a few harmless tricks somewhere nearby—just as she had in childhood, back home in her dragon clan. But everyone else was already preparing for sleep. What was one supposed to do after sleeping for a thousand years, only to be told it was time to go to bed again, simply because night had fallen?

“I have prepared a room for Lady Aaliya in the castle’s guest wing,” Micha said.

“Hm, doesn’t Master Dan’s fiancée also arrive there tomorrow?” Prekarda remarked.

“Yes—is something wrong?” Micha wondered aloud, but the old woman said nothing more. She had merely noticed how the gaze of Dan—usually thoughtful and reserved—had warmed when he saw the guest in the kitchen.

“Come along, Lady Aaliya,” Micha said.

Aaliya said her farewells as a lady should, and they left.

Dan picked up his bag with the spoils, intending to go to the blacksmith the next day.

“Dan,” Prekarda called after him.

“I’m listening, Nurse.”

“Your trophy isn’t a bad one. I think you did well,” she said encouragingly, and then left.

“Hm… but what exactly is good about it?” Dan thought, confused.

(To be continued)