Cigno

Scène Un

Paper consumed every available space. There were tax reports scattered across the hardwood; tomes of the Eighteen Famiglias' history tossed onto desks; stationary with marked out words shoved between covers and pages; maps of the kingdom plastered across the walls with strange symbols carved into their surface. 

Madrigal picked up one of the discarded documents. Stamped across the top was the Danseur Famiglia crest while the Cavalier Famiglia's trailed along the bottom. It appeared to be a proposal of sorts; from what she could glean, if the participants agreed to it, trade would open between the two Famiglias. Yet, Allegro had vetoed the proposal, his words of disagreement scrawled along the side. 

His handwriting claimed that the proposal would favor the Cavaliers because it promised a reduction in taxes for every one hundred merchants a Famiglia claimed. The Cavaliers were a merchant-based Famiglia; their territory surrounded the Prince's capital and was much more industrious than the Danseurs. Allegro's family had bountiful territory but fewer developed lands, so if the proposal was enacted, the Cavaliers would pay next to nothing in taxes.
It seemed her Lady Lessons were coming to paying off. Now she needed to act like she'd known the material her entire life.

The ticking of the grandfather clock was a reminder she was on borrowed time. Once Allegro showed up, she'd settle this all once and for all.

He and Chiarina and Lord Luca had returned before dawn this morning. It appeared that the hunting trip had been most successful. She hadn't left her quarters to welcome them, but the celebratory revelry of the servants told her more than enough. Especially when they refused to stop chanting, "The Stag! The Stag! The White Stag of Romeo!"

Her palms had dampened then. So they had encountered the White Stag of Saint Romeo, the Saint's alter-ego. A true blessing then. There was no way her paltry magician's trick could have any effect against the Saint's blessing.

Have no fear, mi cigno. Arlecchino's words in her mind used to terrify her, but now they brought her comfort. That may be true of an ordinary magician, but I am no ordinary magician. Remember, I am a wish-granter. And wishes are the one request Saints cannot grant. 

She decided then; she would rescue Allegro's heart once and for all tonight. 

Under the guidance of the full moon, Madrigal drank the potion. Contrary to her expectations, the black liquid was not like sludge or molasses. It was light, almost water-like in its consistency. It slipped down her throat with ease, but afterwards, she felt nothing. Her body didn't vibrate or stretch or conform to Chiarina's likeness. She didn't glow nor darken nor vanish. She felt the exact same as moments ago.

For confirmation, she checked her mirror. Indeed, nothing about her appearance had changed. Had the wish-granter sold her a faulty potion?

My abilities are true. I said that you would appear as the one you wish to steal from to everyone but yourself. Mirrors show us our true selves; therefore, no matter the guise you take, you will always remain Lady Madrigal Cabriole in its gaze. 

Madrigal turned away from the mirror then, and her birds erupted into alarmed cheeps and chirrups. Odile cowered behind Benno who was a ball of sun-kissed feathers. She approached him to soothe him but he was unyielding. He snapped his carnation-colored beak at her fingers with a vehemence he only showed to strangers. 

Could it be? Were animals unable to tell the difference either?

Hurry now, mi cigno. The glamour will hold for as long as the moon glows. For when the sun rises, the world will see you as you truly are.