“No, she understood everything, and didn’t pretend to be anything! Just this man reassured her. By the way, have you ever seen Arel having fun with his slaves? He kills them so slowly. Hours pass in agony. It may pass all night. Before…”
“Will you shut up?!”
“Here you will begin to grab at any straw. And of course you will believe, if someone promises you…”
“Shut up!”
“And quit you.” “Shut up.”
“To the mercy of fate.” “Shut! Up!”
“Betray you.”
“You're just a dream. My wacky nightmare! And I don’t care what you mean, Nikto. I'm sick of listening to you! You delivered her from a painful death, what a benefactor! Maybe it was easier not to choose her that day?”
“Maybe,” Nikto agreed. “But you made your choice, and I made mine. The first move was yours, first you. Then I.”
“You mean if I chose another…”
“I just fulfilled her last request. She wanted to see you again, nothing more,” and Nikto limped toward the door.
He opened it without any difficulties. And Lis nearly howled with rage. However, in a dream, locks really rarely save from uninvited guests.
“He walks around my room, touches my things, considers everything here!” Lis in indignation went to the table to hide his book.
Involuntarily he leaned over the open page:
“For, with hasty steps, at dawn someone is approaching me, someone who takes possession of me and cuts me down with a sword piercing me, and knocks me in order to bring me into harmony. And by the power of his hands holding a sword, he separates the skin from my head, and he connects the bones with pieces of meat, and all together, according to his plan, burns on fire until I feel how my body is transformed and becomes a spirit. And this is my unbearable torment.”
Lis sharply raised his head, suddenly realizing that he had read out, completely forgot about Shela. And in vain. Standing on the bed on all fours, Shela was preparing to jump.
And Lis screamed. Loudly, desperately, to finally wake up.
Chapter two
Lis reflexes
Lis looked in disgust at his reflection in the mirror. Black hair dye almost washed off, the color faded. Now he was neither red, nor black. Some dirty gray hair, not dark copper as originally, and not coal black as intended. Before, the color of his hair was often compared to fire. Women flatteringly told him this when he bent over them. They said that his face seemed to be framed by flames. And now the fire has gone out. Only gray ash remained. Not live hair. And Lis, with disgust, stroked them back, removing them from his face. He reached for his hairpin. The fluffy bright fox tail, habitually, gently caressing, lay down in the palm of his hand, but Lis immediately sadly laid it aside. His