a soft glow over her delicate features and glossy lips, the swell of her breasts as she stands.
“Pardon?” I drag my gaze to her eyes before she catches me.
“Oh, it’s a fairy tale,” she starts, lifting her dress an inch and walking to the water then straight into it to get her feet wet.
“The back of your dress,” I say, pointing.
“What?” She turns. “Oh.” She shrugs.
It surprises me, because that’s got to be a thousand-dollar dress if not more. How did she get her hands on that anyway?
“The villain spies the maiden bathing in the water and she’s so beautiful that he can’t drag his eyes away,” she continues. “He wants to possess her. But she’s a magical creature, and you can’t really possess someone anyway. The maiden turns into a swan and flies away when she senses him near,” she says, turning to make sure I’m still listening.
I am because, honestly, I’m enthralled and not by the story.
“But the villain is sneaky and conniving. He watches her and learns that her magic only works when she puts on her swan-feather coat. Without it, she’s mortal. Well, at least without magic. And so, he steals her coat and traps her then forces her to be his bride.” She looks at me again and shakes her head. “Never mind, it’s stupid,” she says, looking embarrassed.
“Are they happy?” I ask, not sure why because it’s a stupid question. Who is ever happy?
She perks up at that, smiles, but then that smile fades as she shakes her head and lowers her gaze to play with the feathers of her dress.
“You can’t be happy if you’re locked in cage, and you can’t ever love the one who holds the key.”
Fuck.
“That may be the saddest story I’ve ever heard,” I say. “Can’t she get away from him?”
The girl shakes her head. “Not without her coat, which he’s hidden away.”
“How does the rest of the story go?”
She looks up at me again, her eyes shiny even though she attempts a smile. “It’s not important.”
“Are you the swan?” I ask, gesturing to her dress.
She looks down at it. “I’m a swan, yes. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Tinsley sorted it out for me.”
“Tinsley Constantine?”
She studies my face, tries to backtrack because she’s given away too much. “We’re old friends. Are you the Phantom of the Opera?”
“This?” I point to my mask. “He was a monster. Like your villain.”
“No. Christine loved him.”
“No, sweetheart, she didn’t.”
“She did in the version I like best.” She gives me a satisfied smile that touches her eyes.
“Well, then let’s stick to your version.” I smile too.
Music from the party trickles to our little corner, reminding me where we are.
“Oh, I bet they’re dancing,” she says, eyes brightening.
“What’s your name?” I ask, testing.
“My name? Um…Let’s keep the masquerade, okay? Just for a little while.”
“Mysterious. Would you like to dance?” I hear myself ask when what I should be doing is ripping my mask off, letting her see my face and dragging her back to that nunnery.
But then her smile stretches so wide that her eyes glow like jewels, and I just stare at them, too curious and too divided between humanity and duty.
“I’d really love to dance!”
If she knew who I was, if she knew I was her villain, her monster, would she look at me like that?
No. Never.
Not in a thousand years.
So, I’ll take tonight. I’ll take her twenty minutes.
I hold out my hand, palm up.
She comes toward me, still barefoot, and slides her hand into mine.
I look at it, at her delicate hand in my big, calloused one. I think about the things I’ve done with my hands. The blood I’ve shed. The blood of her family.
But I push that thought aside. I’ll push everything aside for these next twenty minutes.
I close my hand around hers and she steps into my embrace as I wrap my other arm around, that hand resting against her lower back, thumb just touching the exposed skin above her dress.
And alone under the moon and the twinkling light of fireflies in this secret garden, we dance.
4
Lucia
I think about what’s happening. About this night. A masquerade ball. My beautiful gown. Me having to run away at midnight. This man saving me from those others.
This man holding me.
I’ve never been held by a man like this. And I know it’s childish, but I’ll let myself go for just a few minutes. It’s all I have anyway. And I’ll live this fantasy. This fairy tale with my prince.