"Kim Wilkins - The Autumn Castle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wilkins Kim)

diamond-shaped panes.

The queen, her hair loose around her shoulders, knelt on the floor next to the wolf in the dim light, feeding
him treats. She glanced up as Christine entered the room.

"Thank you, Hilda," she said. "You may leave us."
Hilda nodded and closed the door behind her.

Christine didn't wait for the queen to speak. "Listen, you have to help me. I need to get back to my own
world because I'm really worried that I'm dying all the time I'm here."

The queen stood, a puzzled expression on her face. "What you say makes little sense."

"I'm not from here. This is aтАж a dream, or a vision, or something. I need to be conscious again." She
sounded helpless and needy.

The queen extended a hand. "I shall endeavor to understand you better, stranger. My name is Mayfridh."

Christine grasped her hand distractedly. "Of course it is. You're named after a little girl I once knew."

Mayfridh shook her head, dropping Christine's hand. "No, I'm sure the little girl was named after me. I'm
the queen, after all. Children are often named in my honor. What's your name?"

"Christine Starlight," Christine replied. "Please, you've got toтАФ"

"Christine Starlight?" Mayfridh said sharply. "Truly?"

"Queen Mayfridh?" the wolf said, uncurling himself and standing. "You seem surprised."

Mayfridh ignored him and moved closer to Christine to examine her. "Of course it's Christine. You'll
forgive me for not recognizing you. It has been a long time."

Christine flinched away from her inspection. "What are you talking about?"

Mayfridh smiled at her and, in perfect crisp English, said, "Christine, don't you remember me?"

Christine was momentarily disoriented. She had only just grown used to the odd word-echo-word-echo
of their language. To hear her own language, and spoken like a British public school graduate, startled
her.

"We were friends in our youth," Mayfridh continued. "You lived next door to me. Oh, we have so much
to catch up on." Mayfridh stepped back and settled in one of the heavy wooden chairs. She patted her
knee and slipped back into her own language. "Eisengrimm, come." The wolf approached her, resting his
head between her knees to gaze up at her adoringly. "Fox," Mayfridh said, and Christine was astonished
at what happened next. In an instant, the wolfish features had reduced and contracted, the gray fur had
burnished over with red, and Eisengrimm jumped into Mayfridh's lap, a perfect, gleaming fox. Mayfridh
caressed his head and looked at Christine expectantly.

"I'm tired of this dream," Christine said. The light in the room was changing. Although Christine had been
certain a moment past that the sun had just set, it seemed a glimmer of dim morning light reflected in the