The Dragon's Mark--A Twisted Fairy Tale

Part 5: The Dragon Festival

The Grand Opening of the first Dragon Festival of Kadros had arrived. Agatha leaned out of the chaise window as they pulled up to the gates of the Piazza.

"Ooh!" She squealed, bouncing in her seat. "Let me out! It looks amazing!"

The hired coachman secured the reins and opened the door of the chaise, and Agatha Farfalle alighted, dressed in her new gown: a tight, squeezing bodice with a neckline that barely contained her burgeoning figure, complete with wide, billowing skirts in a garish pink silk, weighted down with gold and crystal embellishments. On her head, amid a curling, twisted hairstyle painstakingly pinned by Stella early that morning, perched a glittering, gold-plated tiara.

Stella, herself, stepped down behind her so that Jacintha could emerge, clad in a deep-purple gown of not much more taste than the one her daughter chose.

"Remember, dear," she said, taking Agatha's hand. "This festival represents all that we've worked for, all that we are—so have a good time and enjoy yourself!"

"I will, Mother!" Agatha answered.

Stella winced as Jacintha's gaze fixed on her, and the benevolent smile transformed into a pinched, angry frown. "Now then, Stella, do not forget your veil and gloves." She handed Stella the black netting sewed into a hood that would obscure her face, and the heavy silk gloves to cover her hands and arms, from fingertip to elbow.

As she handed the items over, Jacintha leaned in and whispered. "Remember your place, little toad. Do not speak unless spoken to—on second thought, don't speak at all, unless it is to answer Agatha. Tonight is all about her, and I don't want your attention to drift anywhere it doesn't belong."

Stella felt the warning deep inside her, reinforcing what she already knew: she didn't belong here. She had no place among the well-to-do of Kadros. Her scaled skin was an affront to the eyes and a blight on all the beauty surrounding her.

"Don't forget the basket!" Agatha called over her shoulder, as Stella struggled to unload the large wicker vessel with small wheels attached, like a wagon. In anticipation of buying many things from the foreign vendors that had been streaming in all the previous day, Agatha had decided that Stella would pull this contraption around behind her, to carry all of her purchases.

"Have fun, my darling!" Jacintha climbed back into the carriage. She would be on her way to a party at the house of an old friend of Giorgio's who couldn't make it to the festival.

Stella tugged the rope attached to the wheeled basket, and it rumbled over the cobblestones.

"Hurry up!" Agatha urged. "If I miss anything, it will be all your fault!"

Underneath the veil, Stella allowed herself a small smile. Only she knew of something already contained in the basket, something for herself that could have earned her a sound beating if either Jacintha or Agatha had been aware of her enough to realize that she was hiding something.

Stella followed Agatha all over the Piazza all day long. Silk scarves, exotic trinkets, spectacular jewelry and articles of outlandish clothing filled the basket; every stop they made added weight to it, making it harder for Stella to pull. In spite of the gloves, she could feel the roughness of the rope rubbing the skin of her hands into hard, leathery pads. There were magicians and musicians all over the square, and plenty of treats from faraway countries to sample.

As the sun passed its zenith, the crowds in the Piazza swelled, and Stella heard people confirm more than once that Sir Henrik would indeed make an appearance at a party on the grounds of the governor's mansion itself, and only those with direct connection to the Drakistos family were invited, and there would be a fireworks display after dark.