The Dragon's Mark--A Twisted Fairy Tale

Part 3: The Dwarf and The Dress

That fateful morning, Jacintha Farfalle and her daughter sat in the sunroom of their villa, deeply engaged in reading. Agatha turned a page in her periodical and released a noisy, wistful sigh.

"What's wrong, dear?" Jacintha asked absently, frowning at a particularly salacious account from her Dear Friend (and the neighborhood watchdog) Deirdre, concerning the social travesties of one Libeth Montgoverny, who had appeared at a garden party unannounced. Such an affront to the hostess (none other than Steffani Drakistos, second cousin of Lord Sigmund, herself!) warranted a full recounting of her many infractions by Deirdre, and a warning to all eligible women against associating with her until she submitted a formal apology in the presence of sufficient witnesses. The community of Kadros was tight-knit, with very clear lines and expectations attached to the levels of social hierarchy, and brooked no threat to said stratification. So engrossed was Lady Jacintha that she barely heard Agatha's dreamy reply.

"I just wish I could find a dashing, daring young man like Lord Harold Courtland!"

Jacintha set aside her letter and picked up an envelope with the Drakistos Family seal set upon it. Two missives from the governing family, in as many days? What could it mean?

Agatha sighed again, and Jacintha's thin tolerance snapped. "Will you stop that? You sound like a fish that's just been taken out of the water."

"I'm just so—" Agatha began, but Jacintha cut her off.

"I don't care what you think you feel, what you are is lazy and discontented, and what you need is motivation to go out and get those things you enjoy. You are a Farfalle, and you deserve to get everything you want, as much as any Drakistos!" With that, she returned to deciphering the stately calligraphy. It seemed to be an invitation of some sort—and she couldn't remember receiving an invitation from the Drakistos family since Giorgio was alive.

Jacintha gasped sharply, and Agatha cast aside her periodical. "What is it, mother?"

The woman didn't answer right away. She rose from her seat, invitation clutched in her hands, and began pacing the tile floor."This is it, Agatha! This is the moment we've been waiting for! Oh, merciful heavens, all of our waiting and planning has finally paid off!"

Agatha pursed her lips in a frown. "Our planning? Mother, what's gotten into you?"

Jacintha ignored her daughter's skepticism. She pushed the invitation in front her daughter's face. "Look! The Drakistos family is sponsoring a festival, and everyone in Kadros is invited!"

Agatha squinted at the flourishing script. "Dragon Festival?" she read aloud in a dubious tone, "We've never had—"

"Oh, never mind that!" Jacintha waved her hand petulantly. "Do you see where it says that it will be hosted in the Grand Piazza? And that anyone connected to the Drakistos name, anyone under their protection or otherwise living in Kadros, is allowed to attend?"

The plump, dark-haired beauty rolled her eyes. "What's the use of all that, though?" Agatha whined. "We both know there are simply no more eligible young men to be found in all of Kadros—"

"And," Jacintha finished, pointing to a small flurry of words at the bottom. "doesn't it say Lord Sigmund's son and heir, The Honorable Don Henrik, will be in attendance, seeking a bride?"

In the shocked silence that followed, the door softly opened and the maid, Stella, entered to remove the breakfast things.

Agatha let the invitation drop as she joined her mother on her feet. "The son and heir, Henrik?" she gasped. "Henrik Drakistos?"