The Dragon's Mark--A Twisted Fairy Tale

Part 4: "The Drakistos Rule"

Stella spent the rest of the evening waiting on the ladies, and when they finally went to bed, she finished the rest of the washing-up.
Among the dishes lay a silver tray. Seeing her reflection in it reminded her of the birdbath and the ring. She slipped it out of her pocket and put it on. Once again, she gasped as her reflection changed. 

Instead of rough, flaky skin and twisted, pocked features, she saw a silky-smooth visage; even the quality of her hair was different. Instead of the usual lank, stringy, dirty mop, her hair took on a sheen she hadn't even seen in Agatha's hair, and curled beautifully around her clear—albeit plain—face. The tears returned, and this time, Stella let herself cry. She set down the tray and wept into her threadbare apron. She wasn't nearly as beautiful as Agatha, with all her makeup and paints—but just the sight of her face without the scars and scales was the prettiest she'd ever looked in her life. She had never dreamed she could look like that. And now she could go to the Festival!

That night, Stella lay down to sleep with her head full of anticipation over what she might see the next day. But in spite of all the excitement, her dreams took a decidedly different turn.

She dreamed of a woman who wore the same dress the dwarf in the antique shop had given her. The woman sat at her vanity, applying the last touches of makeup to her face.

Behind her, a man entered the room and approached her, caressing her shoulders tenderly.

"Are you ready, my love?" he asked.

"Almost, James," the woman replied.

He bent to kiss the top of her head. She laughed and nudged him away. "Stop, you'll ruin all my hard work."

"You make stunning look easy," he murmured, stepping back as she inspected her face.

The reflection in the mirror came into focus, and Stella could have gasped when she saw that the woman's face was almost completely covered with scales, like those of a dragon! The woman turned around, and her face seemed perfectly normal.

"You are kind to say that," she murmured, stand up to give this man a full view of her, from head to toe.

"That dress is perfect, your hair is perfect..." James murmured. "Nadia, my treasured bride, you look perfect tonight." He pulled her close and wrapped her into an embrace. "I never knew how happy one person could make me until you dropped into my life out of nowhere."

Nadia's face fell, and she leaned slightly away from James. "Dearest, please don't—"

"No! I am not asking about your past, darling; I promised I wouldn't. It's just..." He broke off and sighed.

Nadia tilted her head, her red lips bent in a frown. "What is it?"

"Some gossip traveling between the wives of the other dignitaries, apparently. Someone is convinced that there is something you're not telling me."

Fire flashed in her eyes. "James!"

"Nadia, I swear, it's only gossip, and I won't believe a word of it!"

"I would hope you trust me better than that!"

"I do! I believe you, even though you won't tell me how you managed to arrive in Rome with that strange dress and absolutely no knowledge of the world. I trusted you enough to marry you, didn't I?"

Nadia tried to distance herself, but that only moved her closer to the mirror, and the horrible, twisted visage that was the exact opposite of Stella's experience. She glared at her mottled appearance, and turned back to him.