Serial Saturday: "The Dragon's Mark" Part 8

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.

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