Part 8
"The Secret Ring"
While father and son plotted and
planned on how to effectively seize their last chance at lifting the
curse that plagued them both, a young woman laid down to sleep,
hoping to revisit the splendor of the night in her dreams. Her
psyche, however, had other plans.
As she had done the night before,
Stella dreamed of a woman. It was a different woman, though, one from
a very ancient time. She was desperate, full of fear, running through
a deep forest, haunted by the sounds of war. She had a box—the
Ring! Stella saw it clearly upon her finger, and in flash of light,
Stella stared in awe as a Dragon appeared! The woman apparently
begged something of it, but instead of heeding her request, the
Dragon vanished, and the scene twisted in Stella’s vision, and
changed.
Now she saw a second woman, one who
also wore the Ring upon her finger. The woman faced a window, and
when she turned, Stella could see her face—it was Nadia! A burly
warrior charged into the room and grabbed her, dragging her out of
the castle and across the hill-strewn, dirty land. They came to a
large crater, and Stella noticed that Nadia seemed mortally afraid of
something, while the man stormed angrily back and forth, railing and
shouting.
The Dragon appeared again, and the man seemed to offer
Nadia to him. The dream-vision honed in closely upon her, and Stella
could see clearly the hand that bore the Ring—Empty! Somehow, Nadia
must have lost it while the warrior carried her away. The Dragon once
again appeared to refuse the ruffian’s request—but then it
reached into the crater and pulled out a young man, almost the same
age as Henrik—Stella gasped when she could see that, in fact, this man almost
looked exactly like Henrik! And seeing him along with the ruffian,
she could also tell that these men were as alike as father and son.
But how could it be? The style of their clothes and the apparent
uprising happening placed the time around a few centuries prior—yet
how had so little time passed between that and Stella’s first dream
of Nadia, where she wore the dress Stella now owned? The ruffian
grabbed Nadia by the hair and held his sword against her neck…
Stella came awake with a gasp, hands
desperately clutching her own throat. What did it mean? Was the Ring
a mark of death to anyone of the Drakistos family? If Henrik had
noticed her ring, he had not said anything about it—but would he
remember her, if the Ring was so important to the Family? Did this
mean she would never be able to wear it again?
“It doesn’t matter anyway,”
Stella muttered to herself as she made the usual morning
preparations, drawing water from the well and setting it to boil for
the coffee. “I have no reason to disguise my appearance anymore.
What’s done is done.”
Any hope Stella harbored of avoiding
Henrik’s interest disappeared when she saw the bulletin that
accompanied Agatha’s periodical that morning.
BY ORDER OF LORD SIGMUND DRAKISTOS,
the poster proclaimed, THE FESTIVAL OF THE DRAGON HAS BEEN
EXTENDED FOR ONE ADDITIONAL NIGHT!
Stella’s heart raced. It was to be a
masquerade ball—and this time, no one would be turned away. She
fought to keep the tray steady as she carried it to Agatha.
The young woman lay on the bed,
cocooned in the blankets. All that Stella could see was the tuft of
dark hair draped over the pillow. She went silently about her duties,
obeying Agatha’s preference that they not interact. When Stella
drew back the curtains, Agatha groaned.
“Morning already?” She sat up, her
curly hair in a tangled mop. Her cheeks sagged and her puffy eyelids
gave her a weather-beaten look, quite a dramatic change from the face
she had presented to the public eye the night before. She made a
happy noise when she saw the coffee at the end of the bed.
Stella opened the large armoire and
began the process of selecting the underthings for today’s outfit.
She heard the periodical rustle, and tried not to cringe as her
thoughts went immediately to what Agatha would find inside. Keeping
her back turned (so Agatha wouldn’t have to see her face), she
asked, “Which dress will you be wearing today, ma’am?”
Agatha sniffed a few times, and
muttered under her breath before answering, “Blue, today—like my
mood.”
Stella pulled out the blue gown with the ruffled trim and
lacy bodice. In the uncomfortable silence, she heard the sound of
ripping paper. When she turned to lay the dress over the lounge at
the end of the bed, Stella saw the two halves of the colored bulletin
on the floor. She still maintained her silence, but as she turned to
move on to bring Jacintha her tea, Agatha grunted after her, “Take
out the trash when you leave, would you?”
Stella calmly walked back, pick up the
torn bulletin and departed.
When she carried the tea and the rest
of the letters into Jacintha’s room, she saw a second bulletin.
Stella commenced the sweeping and the dusting as Lady Jacintha sipped
her tea and read through the letters.
“A second day…” she murmured to
herself. “That can only mean—did you ask Agatha how her night
went? Did she say whether or not Don Henrik attended the party? Did
he notice her at all?”
Stella tensed, but still kept her focus
on moving through her duties. “She has told me nothing of last
night, ma’am,” she answered truthfully.
“Oh come,” Jacintha laid aside the
current letter with a sigh and selected one with the Drakistos seal
upon it. “We both know you’re smarter than that, Stella. Did she
seem in a good mood when you brought her coffee this morning?”
Before Stella could respond, the damsel
in question appeared in the doorway, still looking very much rumpled
in her face and clothes.
“You can stop pestering her, mother,”
Agatha grumbled, shuffling into the room and throwing herself onto
the sofa, coffee in hand. “I’ll tell you exactly how my night
went!”
Down went the letter. Jacintha pursed
her lips. “And how did it—“
“Horrible!” Agatha interrupted. “I
was questioned right at the gate, and had to give the name of our
Drakistos representative, there were too many people at this
exclusive party, and even though Henrik was there,
hardly anybody saw him!”
Jacintha snorted. “Impossible!” she
scoffed. “I received specific assurances that Henrik’s time would
be spent evenly among all the eligible young ladies—you should have
had plenty of opportunity to catch his eye. This would have been his
big moment in the spotlight—what could have possibly changed his
mind?”
Agatha set aside her empty coffee mug,
and Stella commenced the dusting as she tried not to pay too much
attention to the conversation that, for all intents and purposes, did
not include her.
“From what I’ve heard people say,”
Agatha pouted, “it was some girl in a golden dress nobody could
identify. She came unaccompanied, kept him away from the rest of the
party, and left early—almost the same time I did!” She huffed and
crossed her arms.
“Stella!” Jacintha snapped. “Did
you know about this?”
Stella flinched, nearly dropping the
tea things she gathered at the sound of her name. She turned to face
her mistress, head bowed as it should be. “Madam, I—“
“Why are you asking her?” Agatha
interrupted scornfully, “She wasn’t even there!”
Jacintha arched an eyebrow. “Was she
not?” She asked slowly, narrowing her gaze upon her servant. “I
gave specific instructions that she needed to accompany you
everywhere you went!”
“I know!” Agatha huffed, with a
little whine in her voice. “They said that servants aren’t
vouchsafed by the Drakistos Family, so I had to leave her standing
outside the gate while I went to the party.”
Jacintha tilted her head and laughed
indulgently, smiling with obvious significance in her gaze as she
watched Stella’s reaction. “They wouldn’t vouch for her? Well,
imagine that!”
Stella, for her part, did her utmost to
keep the color from rising over her cheeks to her face. Nothing in
her expression must betray that anything happened beyond what they
expected. The more they laughed, the harder it was to maintain her
composure. As she stood there before the jeering mother and daughter,
she thought of the ring, and the way it altered her appearance,
covering over her natural scars with beautiful, flawless skin.
They laugh at my scars, she told
herself. My scars can bear it. Their mocking cannot touch the
beauty I carry with me, the one who was worth Henrik’s precious
time.
Once her derision failed to elicit the
expected reaction, Jacintha gave her daughter a nudge. “Go and get
dressed, darling. We’ll invite some company over, and you can have
your own party. How does that sound, sweetie?”
Agatha stood with a groan. “I
suppose, if we must. It’s just so hard sometimes!”
“I know,” Jacintha followed her
daughter to the door, leaving the miserable Stella standing at the
front of the room. “But just think, tomorrow night you’ll have
another opportunity to find Henrik and ensure that he stays with you
the whole night! Who knows, we could even order you a golden dress
like the one that girl wore—“
“Oh, what’s the use?” Agatha
whined, shrugging off her mother’s embrace. “It’s a masquerade,
mother! Probably just about every girl who saw her will be wearing
the same dress! I don’t even want to go a second time—if
Henrik didn’t notice me last night, I just think it’s his loss,
and I won’t waste any more effort on a lost cause!” She flounced
down the hall, and Jacintha watched her carefully before returning to
Stella.
The young servant girl curtseyed. “Is
there anything else you wish me to do, madam?”
Jacintha stood watching her silently
for a very long time. “I want you to tell me something, Stella. Did
you see this golden princess Agatha talked about?”
Stella swallowed the sudden anxiety
that gripped her throat. “I saw many people passing by while I
waited for Miss Agatha, and plenty of women in rich and expensive
dresses. Some of them were golden, but I wasn’t watching closely,
and I wouldn’t know which one the young Don could have spent the
evening with.” She spoke slowly, fighting the urge to lie.
It was a
lesson she learned from Giorgio: the truth corresponds with itself,
and needs no further explanation. A lie, once told, always requires
more lies to disguise it, and before long, the lies begin to
contradict each other. Therefore, he admonished everyone—servants
and peers alike—“stick with as much truth as you are able to
tell, and you will not fear embellishment and confusion.”
Jacintha, however, wasn’t satisfied
with the guarded statements. She pressed further. “Are you sure?
You didn’t happen to see anything that would set this person
apart—a piece of jewelry, like a ring or a necklace,
perhaps?”
Stella heard the peculiar emphasis, and
the fear grew. How much did Jacintha actually know? Would she
continue probing until Stella gave the answer she wanted—whatever
that might be? Surely she didn’t suspect that Stella herself would
actually disguise herself and appear at the party!
“I—I’m sorry, ma’am,” Stella
stammered, finally dropping her gaze. “I didn’t see anything like
you described. I only watched and waited until Miss Agatha returned
from the party.” Her chin trembled, and tears itched her eyes.
“Please believe me, I cannot confirm this claim.”
After a long moment, Jacintha finally
relented. “Well, I suppose there’s nothing more to be said for
now. Meanwhile,” She took out a piece of paper and began scribbling
words. “If there’s going to be another festival, I want to have
another party. Here is the menu I want; you’ll need to buy fresh
things for it today.” She handed the list to her servant. “That
will be all.”
Stella took the paper, her mind already
working over the various items she would need to buy, both how much,
and what sort. “Yes ma’am.” Gratefully, she finally took the
cold tea-tray and retreated down to the kitchen.
After cleaning up the breakfast dishes,
Stella prepared for the marketplace: she had her basket, and chose a
small linen scarf to wrap around her head, reserved to cover her face
if she received too many uncomfortable stares. Pausing before the
cracked shard of an old mirror Agatha broke in a passion, she
recalled what Jacintha had mentioned about a ring.
Agatha hadn’t
even referred to a ring in her recounting of the mysterious girl who
had captivated Henrik. So why had Jacintha mentioned it? The anxiety
mounted, and Stella hastily pulled the ring out of her pocket. She
couldn’t be caught with it on her person, she decided.
Carefully,
she tucked the ring into her small pouch of trinkets, little tokens
of appreciation from the other servants in past years. Looking at the
fierce dragon and its fiery-red prize, amid all the copper bits and
pewter beads and brass hoops, it rather seemed out-of-place, but not
too much. The stone wasn’t particularly spectacular, and the metal
seemed no more valuable than anything else in the pouch. Returning
the whole collection to its hiding place at the back of the disused
coal brazier, she hastily departed on her shopping trip, before
Agatha or Jacintha could accuse her of being lazy.
>>>>>>>>>
No comments:
Post a Comment