Selina, a busy bee, started making my bed, chatting about the latest hearsay, while I stood untended. When finishing, she pulled heavy, floral, floor-to-ceiling curtains. I gasped of amazement: behind them was a huge French window leading to a semicircle balcony. Without asking I opened it and stepped forward. A stunning view was my reward: a thick flourishing garden was just under my bare feet. The trees had white trunks; on their heads were milliards of blue blooming flowers. A little further away I saw a sparkling, twisting river and several broke-back bridges. Just across the river a dozen maybe more houses with perlaceous roofs were seen. Beyond them, as far as my eyes could see, were endless patches of colourful field and clumps of trees with bluish crowns like those in the garden below.

I found it inappropriate to be in a nightgown before kids (even if it looked like a summer dress some girls wear); and I went inside and started pulling up my jeans. Selina, noticing it, came up to the unassuming rat, grabbed it by its long, fat tail and threw it from the balcony.

“Hey, what a heck are you doing?!” I was shocked at what she just did.

“I throw him into tree flowers. They are soft; he would be fine, Mage Avis. He must not see a lady while she’s changing her garments.”

“That’s inhuman; you must not do it again.”

“Yes, Mage Avis.”

I didn’t listen to her, for I leaned out the balcony in attempt to grab the rat back, but his trail went cold. It was not high, the second floor, presumably, but that was no excuse for the way she treated the animal. Sniffing angrily, I put the rest of my clothes on.

“Don’t worry about that. His is an idiot. You are too kind to this rat. I know him, his pretty fine now. One really should sweep a squirt back onto his feet,” she said, bowing again.

I opened my mouth but didn’t find any words to reply. Luckily, Robin came in with a huge basket of food. The girl spread a white linen on a coffee table which stood in front of a cold fireplace. At home I usually had a hasty breakfast of some coffee with milk and toasts, thus was greatly surprised to see all this food Selina and Robin drew out the basket. There were thin slices of fresh cheese and cold meat, roasted potatoes, fried mushrooms, and grilled circles of vegetable marrow. A silver kettle with a long gooseneck, shining like a Christmas ball, was emitting herbal odour. Luscious honey scones, having been decorated with ripe cloudberries, gooseberries, and, supposedly, blueberries, were also served as a second course.

I felt like a sick (sick in the head, probably) child, and everybody was trying to please me. While I was tasting onion-shape mellow fruits of bluish hues: aquamarine, turquoise, blackbird egg, Selina was busy fluffing my cushions when Robin was pouring a piping hot beverage with some flower petals in my cup.

It was embarrassing to eat alone, and I asked them to join me. They were surprised, but accepted my invitation with amiable enthusiasm. It seemed that kids were trying to impress me with their good manners, talking eloquently about changing weather and its negative impact on herbs. I didn’t really follow their “aristocratic” small talk, for I was trying to eat as much as possible. I was not sure when it comes to eat again.

When my hearty meal was over, I thought it would be great to know more details about my captors:

“Where are marigold and blondie?” I said, liking my sweet index finger, thinking where to put the scone leftovers.

They didn’t even show up, having sent two silly kids to deal with me.

“Mage Zarya must be in the village now; she was sent for to deal with Jay’s father-in-law. He keeps coming and making much trouble. And Mage Kaleb,” Selina frowned, “… is probably in the garden.”

“I want to see marigold. Please, take me to her.”

“Let’s get out of the place quickly and quietly. Without any fuss around me,” I told Robin when we left the chamber.

“I thought you would like to greet your people. I can tell everybody that you are awake and in good health.”

“Maybe later,” I replied evasively. “People are busy with their everyday chores, Robin. I don’t want to bother them and ask to drop everything. Next time try not to think for me.”

“Yes, Mage Avis,” he bowed, pouting his lips.

I think I overplayed it slipping into a role. Shall I ask them not to bow? Is it too suspicious to become a modern girl who’s breaking the rules and befriending her servants out of sudden? Will I get away with it? Who was that Avis? Was she really fine with all those yesings and bowings?

“Can you show me any back door?” I asked carelessly, though pleading all gods not to meet anyone new here.

He walked me along the corridor. On both sides were eggshell colour walls embellished with pictures illustrating same elfish looking characters, but the lighting from numerous alcoves made their faces more mystical and solemn. Here and there pretty, soft, Biedermeier armchairs with comfortable “ears” were scattered. Mirrors, creating whimsical multiple reflections of each other, made the corridor look wider. Watching the walls, it was hard to tell whether it was another looking-glass, a dim alcove or a passage. Firstly, I was convinced the light was coming from electric, rounded sconces, but taking a closer look, I found tiny, spherical flames floating, as if by magic, in each separate glass globe. Some of the massive, carved doors were closed; some stood wide open showing their contents. I had a glimpse of a library with lanky bookshelves and ladders; a spacious morning-room, decorated in ivory shades, was left with bare windows; huge plants in chubby pots, watering cans, sacks, little spades and rakes were standing, resting, leaning on cold marble floor of a light and lovely green room.

We met no one. I could hear some cheerful voices and women’s laughter or saw hurrying ghostly figures darting and flashing in reflections and passages; due to all false mirrors’ dimensions, it was hard to say where and how many they were.

Having descended the spiral staircase, to my great relief, we left the building. I was blinded by the dazzling sun. Like a pale tourist going from a hotel of some southern country in the morning, I was engulfed by new sensations and feelings. I didn’t fully feel it staying on the balcony and looking for the rat. The air was full of unusual sweet herbal and fresh citrus smells, and the sky was bright blue and cloudless. Two guards: a man and a woman were standing at the door. They wore light leather armor resembling Kevlar bulletproof jackets. They had no swords, sabers or spears, but long daggers adjusted to their belts and boot-tops. Guards had similar long androgynous figures, fine faces, and straight hair in a high bun, just like oriental warriors from gravures. I would be difficult to tell their gender if not woman’s softer body lines.

They didn’t move, but I saw perplexity on their faces. I hesitated, deciding whether I should say something right now or just keep on going. Robin was the first to react:

“Mage Avis is back. Show your respect!”

Oh, no... Why did you say that? You stupid little...

They twitched like they got an electric shock and bowed very low.

“Mmm...Good work, guys! Have a nice day and keep it up!” I faked a bright smile. “Let’s go, Robin. We don’t want to keep Zarya waiting the whole day, do we?” I darted my angry stares at him still with a horrid smile on my face.

The fewer people know about me, the better. And now the guards might tell everybody in the castle!

The boy realized how badly he had messed up but had no idea why and was silent when we were passing the garden with gorgeous trees, going down the sloping hill. I knew it was my fault; he was just doing his job. But he would not be a kid to recover quickly: he started chatting joyfully how everybody in the village would be surprised seeing me again, and what a grand fest or carnival they would throw me to celebrate my return:

“...I wish birdpeople would create magic fireworks bigger and higher than Aella and best cooks (from the Eagle castle, no less!) would, probably, cook for everybody in the Hare castle!”

I thought about this idea with dismay.

We stood by a thin, silvery river; it was glistening bright in strong sunlight. The Hare rivulet had numerous stone bridges leading to the village. Before stepping on the nearest one, I glanced back. The castle on the mint-green hill looked smaller than I imagined it having wandered inside. I slightly tilted my head, estimating its beauty: not so toyish and magical like Neuschwanstein, too elaborated and delicate with elegant spires and long-necked towers to be a strong, severe, medieval fortress. There were no battlements, moats or full metal sentinels and guards armed to the teeth. All surroundings dwelt in Edenic peace and tranquility.

I drew a sigh.

“Mage Avis? Is everything all right? Are you still mad at me?”

“Everything is fine,” I smiled vaguely. “Let’s go and find marigold.”