The Dragon's Mark--A Twisted Fairy Tale

Part 7: A Most Important Night

Just before they reached the center of the room where the dancers turned and stepped gracefully, Henrik stopped short.

"Uh-oh," he muttered, ushering Stella off to the side, deeper into the crowd of spectators. "Let's go this way."

Stella noticed the way his shoulders hunched, because it was the same stance she took when she didn't want Jacintha to notice her. The moment of Nadia Stevens ended, and Old Stella took over, keenly and painfully aware of absolutely everyone they passed.

"What are we doing?" she whispered to Henrik. "I thought we were dancing."

He kept her close, at least. "We will dance, I promise, Nadia," he replied. "But just now, I happen to be avoiding a certain relentless lady—"

"Your Grace!" A footman approached them. He noted the expression on Henrik's face, and glanced at the unfamiliar young lady at his side. "Is there a problem, sir?"

"No problem," Henrik responded, straightening and keeping a wary eye out for the "relentless lady." "I was just trying to avoid the attentions of one certain—" he pointed until the footman could make out precisely whom he meant.

Stella followed his gaze, too, and her heart just about sank in her chest. Agatha! She was looking, the long neck craned, the pink dress flouncing all over the place as she ignored all the bachelors crossing her path in the pursuit of one only—if anyone would know who she was, in spite of the Ring, it would be her!

"Ah, I see," said the footman. "Fear not, good sir. Miss Farfalle will be departing shortly, and then you may move about freely."

Henrik relaxed, but Stella could not. If Agatha was leaving soon, that meant she would need to depart sooner. She slid her hand out of Henrik's grasp.

He frowned with concern as he watched her. "What is it, Nadia? Are you all right?"

Stella gulped. "I..." What could she say? "I don't feel well."

Henrik's face fell. "I'm sorry I haven't done enough for you tonight. I promise I'll try to do better—"

"No!" Stella reached out and seized his hand again. "Henrik, tonight has been more perfect than any other night of my life! Please do not think me dissatisfied!"

Hope returned to his eyes. "Well then, is there nothing I can do to induce you to stay? Anything I can give you? I would buy you anything you wanted."

Stella smiled. "But you see, you've already given me the most precious of all gifts tonight: you gave me your time." Her voice caught as her throat tightened, but Stella steadied herself and kept going. "No one has ever given me a second glance, much less a moment where I could be important, and you have done that. Thank you, Henrik; I'll treasure this night forever." She backed away a step, looking for a chance to disappear without his pursuit.

The footman leaned in. "Incoming, your grace," he muttered, and Henrik whirled around to locate Agatha—and happened to catch her eye in the process.

"Yoohoo!" she sang out, waving to him.

Cursing at himself, Henrik ducked to continue running, and when he looked back to where Nadia had stood, she was gone.

Down below the Drakistos property, just beyond the gate, a shivering girl stood concealed in a thicket, feverishly trying to cram a glittering golden gown into the bottom of a basket, and slip her arms into the sleeves of a tattered shift. Pulling the twists and braids out of her hair, she slipped out, lugging the basket behind her. Last of all, she pulled the Ring off her finger, and immediately her features changed from smooth, unmarred skin into a twisted, scarred, and garish appearance. Stella rubbed her thumb over the ropy, flaky patches along her palm, remembering the feel of Henrik's hand in hers.