Chapter I: The wanderer under the flower sky
"The story of Beauty and the Beast would go perfectly with a self-righteous prince who, at the time of a magical test, drowns in his own pride and draws the witch's anger. And some silly girl, going straight between the monster's teeth despite her father's warnings. Do you agree, my dear sister? Our little, flowery scene is unprepared for such a... hopeless love tragedy!"
"Excuse me?"
Taken aback, Mukuro raised her head. Years spent with her younger sister have taught her that the stream of thoughts spouted by Junko on one exhalation could be chaotic and difficult to follow for those who didn't know her. The younger witch's attention was sometimes caught by a small detail, a seemingly insignificant word hanging at the end of a sentence or an imprudent gesture, in which Junko saw a spark setting fire all over the world, over hearts and souls. This spark now touched Junko's pupil. Mukuro, until now leaning against the cool stone wall, straightened up and looked around the room with caution.
Junko was sitting on a high throne, its upholstery made of perfectly symmetrical belts of snow-white and ebony silk. She hunched a little, supporting her chin with one hand and knocking on the armrest with the other. Decorated with a row of glassy obsidians, the top of the backrest glimmered above her head like a black halo, in the dimness adding ominous aura of mystery she adored the most. The sisters were separated by a carpet, the large piece of fur taken from the two-colored bear which the younger witch had tamed and later gutted. Now it served her as another magic trophy, protecting her feet from cold stone when she didn't want to put on the slippers adorned with bows. Junko's eyes, almost hidden behind the sheet of pale light cast by the single flame of a candlestick, widened like those of a cat noticing a dove fluttering over its head.
Mukuro's body tensed. She followed her sister's gaze and found a picture reflecting in the smooth surface of a mirror hanging on the wall.
Reflection of all truth.
Closed inside of the gold frame, Junko's mirror had power to show what happened in the past, what was happening now, and what could happened in the farthest of possible futures. Mukuro admitted in silence that her sister had never read the events of tomorrow with prophecies sent through the mirror, but if she claimed it was possible, Mukuro wasn't going to doubt. Junko was never wrong.
Now the glass surface, despite its old age not deformed by a scratch even as thin as a chenille thread, depicted a girl in a green cloak, breaking through the walls of rose bushes. Her steps were careful; she lifted up the long skirt as not to get tangled in creepers stretched on the ground or catch herself on thorns sticking out from everywhere. Though her face stayed hidden under a wide hood, even without seeing her expression Mukuro easily guessed that the girl was lost. The stranger stopped and looked around. Her hands tightened on the skirt until her knuckles whitened.
Wanting to get a closer look at the details, Mukuro stood at her sister's side and concentrated on the landscape shown behind the girl's back, blurred like concealed decorations of a poor theater play. She narrowed her eyes. The mirror focused only on the girl and softened the surroundings, but Mukuro spotted flower arches spread over the girl's head, where white roses bloomed like full moons brought to the ground and scraps of sunlight were embroidered with green leaves. After a while the girl's heel hit the white-tiled path. Curious, the stranger stomped again, as if checking if the hidden trapdoor wouldn't open, but only walked on few petals padding the path. She zigzagged beside them.
The scene shocked Mukuro. Now she could clearly see the black and white tower, slowly emerging on the horizon.
"An intruder?" she breathed in surprise.
"Shut up, my sweet, incompetent sister," Junko replied and put the finger to her lips. She didn't take her eyes off the mirror. "Just look."
Mukuro obediently fell silent.
The nameless girl was standing still, then turned around, fluttering with both her skirt and the cloak reaching the ankles. She was trying to choose the surest way, Mukuro understood. Each of the wanderers deceived by Junko was confused, but movements of the others were characterized by greater panic, speed, terror driven by their desire to escape. The hooded girl wandered, not knowing the way to the tower, so she had found the garden by accident, just like the rest. The barrier surrounding their white walls didn't let anyone see the gate from the outside, and the spells cast by Junko imposed their own rules and laws on the reality of the tower. Mukuro remembered this, and yet... the girl kept some unusual calmness as for a dangerous situation. Her every gesture was perfectly balanced: whether it was a head turn or a step on the path. For Mukuro, even simple information could prove to be useful in the future. She knew that Junko noticed it too.
The stranger had to catch sight of the tower, a moment ago hidden under layers of protective spells, because she stopped abruptly and shaded the horizon, as Mukuro could only guess without seeing her eyes. The girl came closer and threw back the hood, finally showing her face.
Mukuro immediately began to inspect her with the warrior's attentive gaze, pulling out weaknesses and remembering strength. The stranger wasn't older than sixteen or seventeen; her face was round and her cheeks were ruddy, the features still didn't lose childish softness. She raised her hand and shielded the strawberry eyes from the sun, probably much brighter than in her own dimension. She also pursed her lips, shaped like a heart. If she was the one Junko had described as Beauty, Mukuro had to agree - the girl was unquestionably beautiful. However, she seemed to have nothing else as Mukuro saw her fragile figure even through the loose cloak, and the skinny wrists seen under the sleeve weren't those of a swordsman's.
The surface of the mirror flickered and splashed with shards of colors like stained-glass windows, and marks of light mixed with images showing other places in the tower and around it. From the tangle of gleam and shades Mukuro picked out a glimpse of a dark silhouette, sitting motionless on the marble steps. He looked like one of those old, stone gargoyles, lying in wait at the tops of railings.
She instinctively looked at Junko.
"Have you summoned another victim?" she asked, deliberately ignoring reflection of the man. Her voice was hoarser than she'd expected.
"In the end you are so stupid, Mukuro," Junko sobbed in reply, not even bothering to pretend honesty, "I have no idea why I'm keeping you... But what can I do, the miserable younger sister, condemned by the cruel fate to look after the incompetent, older sister!? Poor me! Me, sad and beautiful..."
Passively watching as Junko, with tears on her cheeks and palms in the air, played in the theater of crocodile tears was the best solution in similar situations. Mukuro has already learned it many times before. This false hysteria had a positive impact on her sister's mood, thanks to which Junko wanted to even explain her plans. But now the young witch didn't have a chance to cry to the end, and it was not Mukuro who interrupted her wailing.
"Is anyone here? Who you are? I know you are watching me... or at least I think so."
The voice echoing in the chamber came from inside the mirror. Mukuro, previously imperturbable, shuddered slightly. Until now she was sure the mirror could reveal images, but sounds didn't have the power to break through the solid glass. Now without questions she heard the girl from the garden; her words were muffled, as if she was speaking to them from behind a thin wall, but Mukuro understood her. Almost involuntarily, she noticed that the stranger's voice was sweet and quiet, and a little sleepy, that of a person who was just awoken from a deep dream. Now she turned her face to them and boldly looked at Junko, noticing something beyond what she was supposed to see.
To Mukuro's surprise, the mirror's reaction must have amazed Junko not less than her. The younger of the witches kept her face impenetrable, but said nothing and returned her gaze with a raised head, although the girl in the garden couldn't know it.
Or maybe she knew, Mukuro realized, because the girl frowned and took a step back, stepping on the edge of the skirt and almost falling on one of the bushes. At the last moment she caught her balance and straightened up, looking around again.
"You didn't open the doors to the garden, did you?" Mukuro guessed.
"How many times do you intend to repeat the same question, again and again, before you are satisfied?" Junko's voice was silent, barely humming, but she was throwing sharp warnings like spears. Mukuro wanted to duck. "It bores me! Your incompetence bores me! You want to offend me?"
"I want to help you. This person can see us..." she half-asked, half-stated.
"That's good. I didn't foresee such a situation, and it means the world is not boring enough to burn in flames of my curse."
"No human who hasn't picked the rose bred from the seed of this ground can enter the garden. That's how the spell works. So why is the girl here?"
"Who knows... maybe she is breaking spells? Isn't that funny? Or maybe sad? Full of despair?"
Mukuro decided to leave the conversation as it was and return to the mirror. She did it when the girl's hand went up and her fingers clenched on a brooch clasping the top of the cloak. Compared to prudent searching through the garden, this gesture was slow and marked by heaviness, as if the girl looked for a familiar feeling in the touch of cold metal kissing the skin. Mukuro blinked. She didn't pay much attention and now, driven by some unspecified premonition, came closer. From this distance she could see the shape of the brooch: a pointing to the top arrowhead, white and shining in the middle and red at the edges, with a blade as intensely blue as if the girl put it in paint. A few rays hanging above her head reflected in the shimmering surface, stinging Mukuro's eyes. The witch turned and swallowed when thoughts swirling in her mind and crashing each other stopped and laid out in a logical manner, bringing understanding. She recognized the symbol that adorned the girl's collar, and everything became sharp and obvious - the unexpected visit she and Junko hadn't noticed earlier, the door to their dimension opened by a third person, even passing the invisibility spells protecting the tower. She couldn't believe that it was a mystery a moment ago.
"Junko?" Mukuro's fingers slipped over the base of the long dagger she carried at the leather belt on her hip. "Let me take care of her. Such decorations are worn only by members of the royal council serving Princess Sonia. What's more, it's the sign of the strategist, belonging to the elite of fifteen. Letting this girl walk freely is too dangerous."
Junko's lips, as crimson as the lace ruffles at the bottom of her dress, formed in a wide smile.
"Are you stupid or just blind?"
Mukuro hesitated.
"You're not going to do anything? And what if she enters the tower?"
"That's right, my sister! We don't have guests very often. Especially those who open the passage without my knowledge. It would be very rude of us to not greet her with supper."
"Do you want to let her in? That's insane."
"Insanity..." Junko sighed, "It's nothing more than a trait of outstanding people, rising high by jumping on a trampoline of mediocrity... It's so sad, your rejection of madness."
The sinister sparkle dancing in the corner of her eye made Mukuro feel icy water running down her spine. Despite the clear instructions, she unwittingly clenched her fingers on the hilt of the dagger. Junko's face was a kaleidoscope of emotions and moods, thoughts and feelings - she was taking on the mask of despair as desolate as night just to throw it off and show surprised audience a sunny smile, and everything depended on where the witch was standing. Always moving, never stopping, one wink was enough to miss the flash of her true feelings. Now Mukuro had the opportunity to experience one of those rare moments when Junko was fully exposed, leaving silks and removing her stage makeup, and allowed countless thoughts to reflect in her eyes. She was almost curious whether her sister lost her temper or maybe playing the main role bored her like everything else. The girl from the garden ceased to be a target, for Mukuro it was difficult to even take her as a threat. She became just another pawn in Junko's hand. And the real Junko was terrifying, still as beautiful as portraits, but at the same time marred with a grimace of cruelty.
Suddenly, sadism disappeared from her face, giving in to cheerfulness contrasting with the serious situation. She twirled around her finger a strand of blond hair.
"Now, now, what are you waiting for? She's so cute!" Junko drawled, "I want to meet her as soon as possible!"
"In that case, should I bring her to you?" Mukuro asked uncertainly.
"Wait!" Junko waved her hand and long fingernails stopped a millimeter from Mukuro's nose. She giggled. "Let Kamukura take care of this for us."
"Him?" The mere thought of sending him to the girl filled Mukuro with a fright no less than the stranger meeting with Junko. "Why? He won't agree."
"It depends on how nice we ask him. I know that you are unpleasant but at least try. Now go for it! Tell him that I've prepared a small, very not-boring surprise."
It all started with a yank.
Nanami felt as though she dipped her legs in the sea water and a foamy wave hit the shore, embracing her with its arms and pulling out the ground; one moment she was walking around the palace courtyard, tracing small patterns on the petals of rose she had found in the dining room, then suddenly immersed in pure energy, the one tearing the air and screams out of her lungs. Nanami resisted, forcing her body to fight against the current, but in the face of the ocean of magic she was nothing more than a kidnapped grain of sand. Her knees bended, the long skirt went up slightly, and she could only tilt her head and wait. She was drifting inertly on the very surface of the air. After a while the sensation was gone and Nanami realized she really hung in the air only when she landed on the ground.
She groaned under her breath and tried to sit down. It was a surprise to find out that her fingertips weren't touching the stony ground, but rather blades of grass pricking her hands. She looked around and froze, which was rare.
"Oh my..." she mumbled.
Nanami was in the most beautiful garden she had ever seen. At least she thought so. The strategist was far from being an expert in the field of gardening, but she had enough knowledge to distinguish a place built on the foundations of magic from an average park. The inky night sky she saw a moment ago was replaced with cloudless blue. The moon, just surrounded by wreaths of stars, hid behind the morning sun that washed with blinding glow the immensity of green grass and flowers. Nanami parted her lips in awe. The beauty spreading around grabbed her, stifled the horror visions which had led her here. Roses were blooming on the bushes and wrapping in tender embrace bark of trees, climbing even higher, up to leaves and crowns, grew in the grass one by one or in whole armfuls, and the wind was tearing the petals in the air, making them look like colorful snowflakes. Some shrubs were shining with scarlet so intense that drops of blood could as well soak them, others were ice-white. Nanami noticed black roses of death and sunny tea roses, and those smeared with delicate pink.
She glanced down, at her hand. The red rose, secretly taken from Princess Sonia's palace, was still squeezed between her fingers. The thorns began to scratch her skin, leaving a mark like a ruddy stripe. Guided by a hunch she has learned to trust to not lose the game, Nanami quickly reached behind and hid the rose under the cloak. She was almost certain the frail key had opened the door to a new dimension.
Then she went on a search.
The air had a completely different smell, Nanami assessed, circling and looking around. It was full of spring, sweetness of young flowers and the magic she remembered from her father's life.
From another story, from a long time ago.
At that thought, her heart jumped. Finding herself in a strange garden and having more worries on her mind, Nanami couldn't get rid of that feeling of intimacy digging out memories of a little girl, learning basics of magical techniques from long and complex formulas left on her father's parchments. She told herself to stay calm, giving her inner voice firmness that she sometimes used to admonish others. And yet her own stubbornness didn't work so well on her. What a waste. Her father and the creative magic went side by side and no matter how hard Nanami tried to cut off those thoughts, they were weighing her like a rusted ball chained to her ankle. At Princess Sonia's court, only Gandham Tanaka was involved in the art of magic, but the main stable keeper and animal guardian was using a completely different set of symbols and substances to cast spells, what helped Nanami to build a solid wall between the world of innocence and life of the court strategist. Sometimes it was too easy to believe she was not that different from the rest...
She closed her eyes and yawned deeply, feeling that grim thoughts tired her no less than lack of sleep. It would be rude to forget about father - even a person playing at feelings as badly as her knew it - and since memories were about to corner her, it was better to embrace them and cuddle inside of her heart. Every obstacle could be a weapon if turned to the opponent. Father surely would worry, and his cheeks would mark those familiar, warm and caring tears she knew so well, but nevertheless he would believe in Nanami and do anything to release his daughter from the strange, flowery prison. She couldn't let him down. That made Nanami walk confidently.
Knowing that the only way leads forward, she searched through the garden. The arches of white roses towered above her, looking more like bars of a bright cage rather than garden ornaments. Nanami slowed down, folding her arms hidden under the cloak. The smell of familiar magic made her feel uncomfortable.
Along with arriving to a new place, she usually tried to descry an exit. It couldn't be found in the garden, as Nanami judged. What an unlucky game. And she hit the unlucky path. All she could do was avoiding the chasing sequence.
Remnants of hope were smoldering in her soul even when she had to stop every now and then to free her skirt from the thorns. It was when Nanami found the path. The stony river of white tiles writhed through the center of the garden and led away, contrasting with greenery encircling it and announcing that Nanami stumbled onto the unmatched element she was looking for. To her disappointment, even stomping didn't open a hidden passage. In her mind she was already dreaming about underground corridors, full of traps so fun to pass, so it was difficult to hide her disappointment. The garden was killing expectations with each new step.
Maybe she was wrong and all this farce was nothing more than a stupid joke, a prank made by her friends from the castle, maybe even by Sonia herself? In their current situation, the royal council wouldn't allow wasting any time, and yet such an explanation sounded more and more believable. Nanami was ready to abandon solving mysteries of the red rose when the outline of the tower loomed on the horizon. It emerged from the blue of the sky as if from the depths, an edge after an edge, brick by brick, then gained sharpness, became stable on its foundations. In the first impulse Nanami thought that she only imagined it, so raised her head higher, but the building was still brazenly standing in front of her, so real and tangible. She could swear that a moment ago it wasn't there, in the end it was difficult to miss something equally impressive: the thick line divided the tower into two perfectly symmetrical sides - one white, one black.
The girl stopped and took off the hood, which didn't really help as the sun immediately blinded her and squeezed tears out of her eyes. She winced and put her hand to the forehead, determined to gather as much information as possible. Maybe she has found the enemy base, and this should have been considered a success. But what to do if the tower turns out to be a trap? The thought weakened her temporary enthusiasm. It would be wise to avoid danger and choose a different path, although eyes of the flowers watching her every stumble, scraps of the same shapes repeating, confirmed that the garden had no beginning or end, and the only door to the outside world led up the stairs. It was just a small hunch but Nanami decided to entrust it. She had no choice but to move forward.
She sighed, tired and restless. Entering the enemy house with full awareness of this decision differed from being transferred to the garden against her will. Nanami didn't carry weapons. Only flowers were growing everywhere, but their small thorns were a poor line of protection. She quickly analyzed the chances, compared winning and losing. She still had a brooch fastening her cloak. Nanami wasn't the best trained warrior, but the badge she received from Sonia had a sharp end and could cut an assailant if necessary.
Later everything happened faster than a petal falling from the rose reached the ground. Nanami sensed presence of another person so clearly that someone could breathe on her shoulder. She looked back, but no one was there.
"Is anyone here? Who you are? I know you are watching me... or at least I think so."
The answer was lurking in silence, thick like mist rising above the ground. A sudden shiver pierced her. Instead of soothing calmness, clearing feelings and giving words to elusive thoughts, the garden was shrouded in a pall of silence. Behind it something was hiding, something was observing. Nanami took a quick step back and almost fell to the ground, stomping on the edge of the path. At the last moment she moved her hands and caught balance. The scenario of fighting prepared with such precision turned out to be foolish, because Nanami, used to giving orders to the pawns, was already breathing hard. Only half-aware of her gestures, she reached for the brooch. The object was still sharp like an arrowhead, connecting the foreign garden and the palace, her palace.
She waited and waited, not even sure what she was looking for, but nothing changed. The same luminous spots cast by the sun were dancing on the stone, and the roses had that sweet aroma of pollen and creation magic.
The answer came by itself, walking the stone path.
Nanami was sitting on the grass and playing with a leaf she had picked up earlier, twirling it between her fingers side to side, up and down. Despite her concern, it hit her that the extensive and unobstructed garden would be perfect for playing tag. She was never one to master games demanding physical fitness, but even losing couldn't wipe off the smile elicited by every game. It was sad that the garden didn't turn out to be just as good to play hide and seek...
She decided to wait a little, still afraid that her vague opponent had prepared an ambush and would attack as soon as Nanami approach the tower. That would explain not only an unexpected appearance of the new building, but also impression of being observed. She guessed the garden was protected by sight spells, their master could easily see her even if she hid in the finest corner. Hiding didn't do anything, so Nanami was sitting in the limelight, exposing her face to the sun glow. She had to think about things.
Finally, she decided to go around the garden and find its borders, then walk along. The chance of finding the way out was little, but in fact Nanami didn't intend to run away. She had sworn something to Princess Sonia and the royal council the night before, after finding in the throne room another body… Nanami was slowly approaching the mystery, though she still couldn't capture it and present in words she was dealing with worse than with fancy tactics. The answers were slipping between her fingers. She only knew that the person responsible for the death of someone close to her was nearby, thrusting a painful thorn into her heart. For now, Nanami could learn as much as possible about this place, understand its boundaries and perhaps prepare a hiding place for herself. Eyes half-closed, she raised her head and bathed in sun when she heard a sound in the distance.
She turned her head abruptly. Earlier in the garden it was impossible to hear the wind, some muffled humming in between the leaves. Now the silence was torn apart by the echo of steps. Nanami listened.
Could treading have a color? It never came to her mind, but the sound that reached Nanami's ears now was unnaturally loud, although light and distant, confident and careful. The girl jumped to her feet, feeling fear building up in her. Thoughts tangled in her head, plans got lost and left emptiness.
Finally someone appeared on the path, a long and slender shadow slowly gliding toward her. Nanami narrowed her eyes. The figure clothed in black from head to toe stood out against the bright colors of the garden, seemed to be in conflict with it, like a dark spot of ink spilled by accident on a light sheet of paper. He came from a different world than people she met. Nanami immediately realized it, though she didn't know why. Long, black hair lay down in waves on his shoulders, covering half of the face and reaching to the ankles. Behind him an equally long and black cape covered the ground. The man walked slowly in her direction, giving Nanami time to look at each move, see strength attired in majesty. He was quiet and she could hear his soles crackling against the stone path clearly like a thunder cutting the sky. As if the sight of the man in black bathed in the rain of sunrays sharpened her senses.
"Who are you?" she asked, trying not to raise her voice too much.
If he heard her, he didn't react. The man was silent until he was at hand from Nanami. Then he stopped, and she jumped back, guided more by instinct than by a real hope to escape.
"I was told that in the rose garden there is a mortal girl who can see places hidden for others. That skill is rather rare among people without talent, although it is not unique to me. And yet," he paused and closed his eyes, "meeting someone different from the predictable rest excited me for a second. In the end, I find a shaking girl. What a disappointment..."
He didn't threaten her, insult or accuse. He spoke to Nanami in a bored, monotonous tone devoid of intonation or feelings. Like a barrel organ hiding inside the complex structure, repeating the melody at unnatural rate and rhythm.
Although the man mentioned disappointment, it didn't reflect in his voice.
"Who are you?" Nanami repeated, louder this time.
"This question is not worth the answer. Now, you seem more important, girl. Did you break into my garden?"
"I didn't break in," Nanami replied in truth, "and I didn't intend to bother you. Actually, I'm not sure how I got here."
His eyebrow twitched, but surprise didn't reach his again opened eyes.
"I understand."
Nanami closed fingers of her right hand on the brooch, touched the pointed part to feel its sharpness. She acted almost unconsciously, but this simple gesture softened the gallop of her rushing heart. She took a deep breath and focused.
The man didn't bring a weapon. Even if he was hiding something, it couldn't be anything large: shape of the thinnest dagger would show under the simple linen shirt, his pants clung to the body and the cape was light enough to bend under the weight of metal. It didn't make Nanami feel safer. On the contrary; most often, one moment was enough to make sure that an opponent could easily break her neck with their bare hands. And yet the man didn't carry a weapon at his side, so she could hope he didn't have hostile intentions.
'For now,' the invariable voice of a strategist added in a whisper. Nanami was aware of this and couldn't bring herself to trust the stranger, but she didn't know the board which was the rose garden. The only solution left was to play by the rules of her opponents. This didn't shatter the chance of winning.
"Besides," Nanami murmured, deciding to continue the conversation, "you asked me why I invaded your garden, but you are not the master of the tower, are you?"
The stranger grimaced so insignificantly that Nanami only blinked and it has already disappeared from his face. He nodded and stared at her with a penetrating look of crimson eyes, and Nanami huddled under its weight. No matter how often in her head she combined red with blood, she never felt intensity of this comparison as tangibly as now, flooded with red spilling from his pupils. It was thick and viscous like goo, and goose bumps grew on Nanami's forearms.
"Such confidence in the mouth of a human. Do I not look like a castle master?"
"That's not the point," she replied, struggling with need to step back, "Actually, you are so full of majesty that you look like a real prince. If I had to choose a character to defeat in order to take the castle, I would choose someone who is similar to you."
The man didn't comment on her words and didn't take his eyes off her. Nanami continued, trying to calm her breath.
"I guessed it because you just confessed someone informed you about my arrival. If you had been the master of this world, you would have surely place the sight spells yourself. There is no reason to entrust an important task to anyone else. If that person saw me first, they must be responsible for observing the garden and putting up the barriers."
"There is a grain of truth hidden in your words," the man sighed, not looking at her anymore. Nanami finally swallowed a bump growing inside her throat. "And yet such naive deduction will not arouse my interest. Also, do not judge my strength incorrectly. I do not want to deal with something as boring as guarding the tower."
"I never allow myself to judge lightly."
Nanami summoned courage and raised her head, wanting to take a closer look at the stranger's face. From a distance he seemed to be older, like an ancient creature keeping youth from the beginning of the world. Now she noticed that the age difference between them couldn't exceed a few years. For a moment she was surprised by the beauty she hadn't seen before, and which now revealed in all glory. The stranger had serious, regular features, expressive eyes surrounded by a line of black eyelashes, an alabaster white skin contrasting with the depth of black hair. The perfect combination of spirit and beauty. Only his eyes still frightened her. She thought that one of the red roses has been enchanted in them.
"Did you kill the two subordinates of Princess Sonia?" she asked bluntly.
Logic kept her out of accusations that might endanger her, demanded to hold her tongue. He was on the familiar ground and had more knowledge, she wasn't even aware of how she found herself in the garden. The senses of a strategist criticized stupidity she has just committed. And still before her eyes played the performance she had witnessed the previous evening, a spectacle as red as the man's eyes. The petals of blood from the dining room floor became black in the moonlight, as if someone smeared the ground with tar, and the bodies had covered in the dark. One could walk by, telling themselves that their senses were deceived and nothing happened. Only screams ringing in her ears reminded that death was not a dream.
How could she talk calmly with someone who might have blood of her loved ones on their hands? How could she consider stalling, mere cowardice? Nanami could forget much, but death would never be forgiven.
She must have got the man's attention because he blinked a few times, though still didn't move. They only talked for a moment but Nanami got used to his restrained behavior and didn't expect a bigger reaction. In spite of this, insensibility thrown in her face after such accusation irritated Nanami.
He shook his head, "You are angry. It's so human-like, and predictable. I knew about it…"
He paused and looked away, somewhere far from her. Nanami followed his gaze. She was afraid to see succour or other threat rushing from a distance, but they were surrounded by the same scrap of garden, interspersed between multicolored flowers and fresh grass. The man sighed. "I predicted that sooner or later someone would take the revenge for these two. I told it the woman you're probably looking for, and she knew it, too. In this respect, she is similar to me, but still so boring. You were a matter of time, girl. The only deviation from my supposition is that you came earlier than I expected. But I also considered it."
"What do you want?" Nanami hissed, frowning, "Are you planning to do something to the princess?"
"The regent's life has no meaning to me, just like the life of every other person."
"The regent's?" Nanami repeated, surprised.
It was the first time she heard someone calling the princess in a similar manner. Admittedly, in the kingdom still lived those who remembered the death of the previous king and the unexpected succession of Sonia, but after years of proving the political proficiency and devoting her heart to people, even the doubtful ceased to point Sonia's past or circumstances of her taking the throne. The stranger's statement was dripping with something that Nanami couldn't name. Tartness? Deprived of emotions, but still perceptible breath of bitterness? Nanami could imagine the man calling Sonia an usurper in the same tone.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
He didn't answer. The stranger once again looked Nanami in the eyes - stretching an invisible rope between them and immobilizing her, as if he was looking deep into her, appropriated all attention to himself. Nanami instinctively turned the brooch between her fingers.
"The fact that you are here must mean that you picked up my rose. Am I wrong?"
"No," she denied and added, "I didn't pick up your rose."
Hundreds of thoughts hit her head at once, wanting to blow her up and leave in tatters. Should she lie and say she hadn't seen any rose? Or maybe stay honest and admit she had found the red rose, now hidden beneath folds of the cloak, but not in the garden? She possessed no information about the enchanted flower, which apparently turned out to be quite important for the man, and it was difficult for Nanami to make a decision.
But the stranger only bent forward her, not cutting the thread of gaze joining them.
"Whoever steals roses from this garden must be prepared for consequences. I won't make an exception for anyone."
He moved so fast that looked like a black streak, as elusive as a shadow moving at noon under the full sun's eye. Nanami did the only thing that came to her mind. Started to run.
She turned away and rushed forward, crossing the ocean of grass. Layers of her long skirt suddenly began heavy, tangled between her legs and limited freedom of movements, and the blades of grass were breaking with a quiet clash under her heels. The path was exceptionally easy for the uneven garden areas, but Nanami stumbled now and then. Despite this, she didn't slow down, putting all her willpower in every next step. She didn't know where she was, where she was going and what she should do. The sound of blood in her ears was repeating one simple sentence: escape from the man in black. Nanami didn't have any evidence, but also without them she knew he was more dangerous than any weapon. The strategist's hunch.
The world around her disappeared; colors coalesced with hues of sounds into one barrier pushing against her lungs. She muttered to herself orders, just not to stop, though exhaustion started to crawl along her muscles. She was breathing heavily and sweat slid on her eyelids, hung on her eyelashes.
A little more, just to lose sight of him.
Nanami left behind the stone path, ran past an arbor, passed a small fountain spouting trickles of clear water. The roses didn't disappear - they were watching her everywhere, laughing at her with petal lips. Nanami suspected they could really see her.
Finally, she reached the less tidy part of the garden. Without thinking, she cringed in the brush and screamed as thorns left long, bloody stripes on her legs. She staggered...
Suddenly, somebody's hands crushed her arm like pincers. Nanami almost felt the pressure of fingers on the surface of her bones. She cried, but couldn't break free. The man turned her to himself with one efficient move and held so that she wouldn't fall on the thorns.
"Welcome to the Black and White Tower, miss"
Nanami struggled, but it only strengthened the man's grip. In the last desperate act of self-defense, she analyzed all the possibilities, re-evaluated available options and chose the one she had considered at the beginning...
She would do anything to protect her friends.
Nanami quickly raised her hand and stuck the brooch in the stranger's forearm...
It only cut through the air. Emptiness appeared where his arm was a moment ago.
Before she lost consciousness, she noticed her brooch falling from her hand and rolling on the grass.