Mara and Morok. Лия Арден

      When we finally enter the city, the sun is already setting and the sky is growing darker by the minute. We move unhurriedly through the streets of the capital, and I’m trying not to swivel around in my saddle too much, though I’m curious to see how much people and their lives have changed.

      Many years back, when I was still alive, the houses were all made of wood; now the capital is full of stone buildings, two, three and sometimes even four storeys high. The facades are decorated: the poorer houses have folk-art carvings framing their windows (the legacy of traditional, wooden nalichniki), the more affluent houses however, are more ornate and plastered with stucco. Before, only the main roads were paved, but now I see stone everywhere, so people can get around the city pretty easily even after rain.

      Merchants are covering their stalls and closing the shops, which signifies the end of the working day. Other citizens are heading home too, but as soon as they notice Morok, they speed up or just choose a different road to steer clear of the Shadow’s servant. I keep turning my head, trying to get a better look at all the devices people have come up with to prolong evening life in the city. Men are lighting candles inside big lamps in the main square and wide streets and putting burning torches into special sconces made of metal. The light allows the citizens to see the road and the outlines of most buildings and the horses can walk without stumbling.

      The square in front of the palace is paved with big stone slabs, which makes it easier to ride on. The air is filled with the clatter of our horses’ hooves. The palace is a bit long but it’s completely symmetrical. It’s painted in white and sand and is richly decorated with gold, columns, and stucco. The palace is mostly three-storeys’ high, but the central and two parts on the sides are even taller. And if my memory serves me well, there should be beautiful gardens at the other end of it.

      I take in the façade as we ascend a wide staircase leading to the grand entrance. The palace has changed, too. It has more extensions now and more ornaments. In my time, there was almost no gold on the exterior. The walls are now adorned with the silhouettes of firebirds, Araken’s coat of arms. You can see the golden image of this mythical creature against a crimson background on each flag in the city. But all this splendor does nothing for me. I was never susceptible to luxury and now even the mention of a royal family makes me nauseous.

      “Are you going to drag me to the king in chains, Your Highness?” I ask Daniel poisonously.

      We are almost at the entrance and I’m still in manacles. They put them back on when we were approaching the city and explained it away by saying it was just a way to reassure the citizens.

      “It’s not every day that they can see a Mara, raised from the dead and walking the streets. Some still believe you are the stuff of myths and legends.” The prince had shrugged guiltily as the guards snapped the manacles back in place.

      “You don’t say. I thought raising people from the dead was Your Royal Highness’s favorite hobby,” I’d grunted back.

      “If they were all at least half as beautiful as you are, I would definitely think of taking it up,” he’d grinned, defeating me again in this word-fencing game.

      This time at least they only handcuffed me, sparing my feet. But it was enough to remind me that I was no more than a puppet in their game. Daniel is the puppeteer and the others are my guards. I should never forget that.

      So, I thrust my handcuffed hands under his nose again. I wonder if he’s really going to throw me to his father’s feet, chained and humiliated, like a trophy.

      Daniel looks me up and down and turns to Morok.

      “Do you think we should expect any surprises from our dear Agatha?”

      “I don’t think so. But I would have a guard at her side at all times while she’s in the palace. Someone you can trust.”

      “Right…” The prince is contemplating the suggestion and I’m shivering in the chilly air, looking from one man to the other. Whatever they decide, I wish they would do it soon. “Thank you, Morok, you may go.”

      Morok nods, turns around noiselessly and goes back down the stairs. He takes the bridles of my white steed and his own black mount and leads them away, to the stables, I suppose. It dawns on me that he’s not going into the palace with us. That realization makes me anxious. Morok is scary but I’ve gotten used to having him around. He’s the only one among all my guards who has similar powers to mine and does not belong to this world. And now I’m completely alone, again.

      The moment I step over the threshold, through the enormous wooden gates, a wave of old unwelcome memories washes over me. I can see the richly decorated halls of another palace and other heavy gates that became the last obstacle between me and my revenge. The obstacle I couldn’t overcome. Fear and fury rise up in me and are about to take over but I make myself breathe in, breathe out, and return to the present.

      Immediately past the entrance, we find ourselves in a gigantic hall. The doors on the left are locked but there is a suite of rooms stretching before us on the right. I can also see another marble staircase covered with red-velvet carpet, leading to the second floor. The walls are painted in gold and crimson with little silver elements here and there. The columns are adorned with grapevines, also made of gold. And when I look up, I see the ceiling decorated with stucco and massive, gilded chandeliers that seem to be pressing down on you, even though they are many feet above your head. Everything looks too expensive and oversized.

      The prince interrupts my thoughts. “You’re right, Agatha, it would be wrong to drag you to my father in chains. Come along.”

      I follow him upstairs. On the second floor, the prince turns right into a long corridor. It’s darker here as there are no windows, but there are enough candles mounted on the walls to be able to get around. We walk the whole length of the hall and stop in front of a carved, wooden door which is no different from the other five we’ve just passed.

      “This will be your room.”

      I don’t have time to answer as he flings the door open and I find myself squinting, expecting it to look like a prison cell, apart from the gold on the walls. But to my surprise, when I peek in, all I can see is a simple room in deep green shades. There are just a few gold touches, but that much I can take.

      “No red?” I arch an eyebrow and turn to Daniel.

      “Sorry, Agatha,” he smirks, “we didn’t have time to create a room especially for you, but you will find plenty of red in your wardrobe. I will send you maids; they will help you wash and change. I will be back in an hour.”

      He takes off the manacles, somewhat reluctantly, and nods.

      “But please don’t go telling the servants you’re dead, you’ll just scare them off.”

      “I don’t believe I’m able to unscrew my head and stuff it under my arm.” I roll my eyes remembering the rumors he’d shared with me about Maras.

      Uncharacteristically, the Prince doesn’t smile, just shoots me a searching look, turns on his heels and leaves. Now I can look around properly. The room is not big, but there are two large windows opposite the door. They reach almost to the floor, so the room must be bathed in sunlight during the day. In the middle of the room stands a massive four-poster bed. Next to the bed is a dressing-table, and a little further, a wardrobe. A huge, crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling and I am careful not to walk right under it as I’m afraid it will crash down and pin me to the floor. I walk up to the wardrobe and the doors creak open with a sense of foreboding. I’m right, of course, Daniel did go wild. I browse through