The Swan Princess Read online

  But when in the next moment I crash into someone smelling too strongly of alcohol and something even less pleasant, all the beauty of the moment vanishes and I turn to find a man in an animal costume so exaggerated, so frightening, I scream.

  The man laughs, pushes the mask on top of his head while I clutch my chest.

  “Well, hello sweet angel,” he drawls, openly looking me over and still holding onto me with one hand while a bottle of whiskey dangles from the other.

  “You scared me half to death!”

  He grins and I look at his hand around my arm, feel how it tightens a little.

  Shit.

  “What are you doing out here?” His eyes openly drop to my chest where the gown has lifted my breasts to the point that if I reach up too high, I’ll pop out of it.

  Someone whistles from the trees and I look over to find another man walk out of the shadows doing up the zipper of his pants. He also has one of those masks on top of his head. It’s a sort of wolf or something.

  “Well, lookey here. What’d you find?” he calls out to his friend.

  “Um…excuse me,” I say, trying to free myself.

  “I think you’re one of the prettiest girls I’ve seen all night. What are you supposed to be? An angel?” the one I ran into asks, his breath making me a little queasy. “You sure look like an angel.”

  “I need to go,” I say. “My father is waiting for me.” I have no idea where my father is honestly, but it’s the best I can come up with. I try to pull free, but he tightens his grip and the other man is behind me. Too close behind me.

  “Lost your daddy, little angel? Don’t worry, my friend and me will be your daddies tonight. Ain’t that right?”

  “Sure is,” the one behind me says, and we’re doing this strange dance where I’m trying to get away but we’re all just turning in a circle one behind me, one in front of me, turning and turning with no way out.

  “Please let me go,” I say, trying to sound in control and not as terrified as I feel.

  The one behind me touches the wings at my back, fingers caressing my shoulders when he does. He chuckles and I yelp when his other arm wraps around my middle and he lifts me off my feet.

  “Light as one of those feathers on that dress,” he says, spinning me around as the other man laughs.

  “Let me go!’

  Someone clears their throat in the distance, and I wonder if there’s a third wolf-man.

  “I believe the lady asked you twice now to let her go, asshole,” someone says. A different man with a voice that’s strangely, vaguely familiar.

  Whoever it is, is behind me so I can’t see him.

  “Can any of you actually hold your liquor or does it make you stupider every time you drink?” another man asks. “You know, they say you lose brain cells with every sip.”

  “Well, there you are, Brother. I was wondering where you’d gone off to.”

  “Oh, here and there. You know.” This one has a skull mask over his face that’s scarier than any of the others but when he pushes it off his head, I feel a momentary relief because he looks normal. Not wasted like these others. But then his gaze drops down to the tops of my breasts and when he returns his eyes to mine, he grins and puts his thumb to the corner of his mouth like he’s wiping something away. Probably drool.

  “Hey man, we didn’t mean any disrespect. If she’s with you I mean. Sir.” He adds that sir as an afterthought and I wonder who the two are. The one I ran into is backing away, hands in the air like someone’s pointing a gun at him.

  “Get your hands off the lady,” the first man repeats and the one who is holding me around the middle releases me. The instant my feet touch ground, I run a few feet away, only then stopping and turning to look at the scene. These two men probably just saved me from something terrible happening.

  My heart races as I look at the first one, the one who sounded familiar. I can’t see his face because his mask is still on and it hides more than half of it. But his is a Phantom-of-the-Opera sort of mask. Not sinister like the others.

  I watch as they exchange words I can’t hear and I don’t know what they say but my assailants go running back toward the house, to another door near the one I came out of and disappear inside.

  The remaining two turn to me and I find myself taking a step backward. As soon as I do, the one with the Phantom mask raises his hands, palms toward me.

  “Are you all right?” he asks, bending to pick up my shoes which I must have dropped.

  I nod.

  “Probably not a good idea to be out here alone,” the other one says, and I can see him look me over in the moonlight. I can’t see the color of his eyes, but I take in other details, like a tattoo that’s creeping out of the collar of his shirt.

  “Don’t worry, he looks scarier than he is,” Phantom-mask man says, and I turn to him, try to school my features.

  “I didn’t mean to stare,” I say quickly, and as if the weight of what just happened, what could have happened, combined with the champagne hits me in that instant, I feel my knees give way as I drop to the ground, unconscious.

  3

  Salvatore

  I catch her just before she hits the ground and lift her in my arms, the feathers of her dress tickling my face when I do.

  “Well, this is not what I expected to be doing tonight,” I say, looking down at her masked face.

  “Aren’t you the hero,” Dominic says, peering at her as I lay her down on one of the stone benches before the lake. He fingers some of the feathers on her dress. “What do you think she’s supposed to be?”

  “A swan, you idiot,” I say, peeling her mask away from her face.

  The moment it’s off, I stop dead.

  “Holy fuck,” Dominic says when he sees her face.

  “No way,” I say.

  Dominic pats me on the back. “Princess got out of her tower, Brother?”

  “Fuck you.” I peer closer. “It’s not her. Can’t be.”

  “Her doppelganger then. Let’s go back to the party.” He starts to walk away.

  “We can’t just leave her out here with idiots like those two wandering around with their dicks in their hands, can we?”

  “Take her inside then. She’s not your problem. Not yet.” He waggles his eyebrows like he finds this hilarious.

  I shake my head. If anyone finds out she’s here, shit will hit the fan. My family will be a laughingstock and I don’t even want to think about the consequences that will follow.

  “Don’t tell me you give a fuck what happens to her,” Dominic continues.

  I look at him. He’s watching me curiously. “I care that word would get out.”

  He shrugs a shoulder.

  I shake my head, look around at the feathers that have fallen off her dress as she begins to move, sitting up slowly. Opening her eyes.

  Whiskey eyes.

  I haven’t forgotten them. Hell, I still see them some nights when the image of what we did to her repeats in vivid clarity.

  She stares up at me, then glances to Dominic who’s quick to adjust his mask over his face.

  “I’ll see you later, Brother. I’m meeting a couple of friends upstairs. Good luck.” Just like that he walks away, washing his hands of this problem that’s not his problem at all.

  “What happened?” she asks.

  “You passed out.” Would she recognize me if I took my mask off? Without a doubt. You don’t forget a man who stood by and let what happened to her happen.

  “Passed out?” Her eyes grow wide with panic then. “For how long?”

  “Just for a minute. Don’t worry. You’re fine. Safe. How did you get out to this part of the garden?”

  “What? Oh, I was in one of the bedrooms.” She turns, points to the door. “The stairs led me out here.” She sees her mask in my hand then and startles. “My mask.”

  I glance down at it, having a hard time drawing my eyes away from her face. She’s beautiful but I already knew that. It’s the fact that
she’s here. In the flesh. How in hell is she here?

  “Here you go.”

  She takes the mask, looks at me. “Pointless to put it on now. The masquerade is lost.”

  An awkward moment passes. I need to stop looking at her. “What are you doing out here?”

  “I meant to go back to the party but when I saw the lake, well, it was just so beautiful in the moonlight and with all these fireflies. I thought I’d just sit here for a minute.”

  I nod. I get it. It’s exactly what I was doing.

  “Um…thanks for what you did back there.” Her forehead furrows. “I don’t know what they would have done if you hadn’t—”

  “They didn’t.”

  She nods, looks down at the mask in her hands.

  “Are you hurt?” I ask.

  She shakes her head, gives me a fleeting smile.

  “You should be more aware of your surroundings. You never know the kind of people you’re dealing with.”

  Read: me.

  Although I’m no danger to her.

  Yet.

  She nods, shifting her gaze down like a berated child. “What time is it exactly?” she asks a moment later.

  I check my watch. “Twenty minutes to midnight.”

  “Then I have twenty minutes left.”

  “Why?” She’s just about twenty years old. If I remember correctly, her birthday is in a few days.

  She nods. “I have to leave at midnight.”

  “Or you’ll turn into a pumpkin?” I sit on the bench beside her and she straightens, stiffens a little as she tugs the skirt of her dress over to give me more space.

  In the silence I hear the soft sound of water lapping the shore. I hadn’t heard it until now, not in the time I’d been out here in my attempt to get away from all those people.

  “It makes me think of The Swan Maiden,” she says, eyes out over the water, the moon casting a soft glow over her delicate features and glossy lips, the swell of her gold-dusted breasts as she stands.

  “Pardon?” I drag my gaze to her eyes before she catches me looking.

  “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 a shoulder.

  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.” She shrugs her shoulders.

  “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? Anna sorted it out for me.”

  “Anna Hollister?”

  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 her tower.

  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 hers into it.

  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 her, that hand resting against her 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.

  Except that for all of that, there’s a strange niggling in the back of my mind. The feeling that something isn’t quite what it seems.

  “You’ve seen my face. Why don’t you take your mask off and let me see yours?”

  He shakes his head. “Don’t you remember what the phantom looked like under the mask?”

  I laugh. “I’m sure you don’t look like that.”

  He shrugs one shoulder and spins me. He’s tall and powerfully built with broad shoulders and muscles I can feel beneath my hands. It’s nice holding on to him. And being held by him.

  Nice just being held.

  God, I’m pathetic.

  Or just lonely, I guess.

  “How do you know the Hollister family?” I ask.

  “Oh, through the grapevine. I actually couldn’t pick Anna out if you asked me to.”

  “Really? But it’s her party.”

  “Really. Do you live nearby?” he asks.

  “Not too nearby,” I say, tripping. Stepping on something sharp just then. “Ouch.”

  We stop dancing as I bounce on one foot.

  He sweeps me up into his arms, making me gasp with surprise. He sets me down on the bench and sits beside me to take both feet onto his lap.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Havin
g a look.”

  “Oh, it’s probably nothing. You don’t have to—”

  “Shh.” He pushes my dress up a little, his hand warm on my leg. He keeps it there for a moment longer than necessary and I think about my plan. About what I wanted to do. What I wanted to give to someone—anyone—so Salvatore Benedetti wouldn’t be the one to have it.

  But I know myself. And I can’t do that. Not with a stranger. Not even this one.

  Won’t Salvatore Benedetti be a stranger when he makes you?

  I clear my throat and he moves his hand down to my foot, his touch gentle. I swear he caresses it as he feels for whatever I stepped on.

  “Ah.” He shifts his position to look at the bottom of my foot. “Don’t move.”

  A moment later, he holds up a small thorn like thing.

  I touch the tip, see the little bit of blood on his thumb from my foot. “No wonder it hurt.”

  He tosses it away and reaches down under the bench and when he comes back up, he’s holding an unopened bottle of champagne.

  “Where did you get that?”

  “Well, before you came out here, I was going to drink it on my own, but now that you’re here,” he says, popping the cork, sending it flying into the center of the lake. “We can share it.”

  He holds the bottle out to me. I reach for it, but he snaps it away.

  “Only if you’re old enough to drink, that is.”

  Something about the way he looks at me unnerves me. It’s his eyes. His voice.

  “Do I know you?” I ask.

  One side of his mouth curves upward and my heart races because if his answer is yes, it will be a problem.

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Oh. You just seem really familiar.”

  He nods, holds the bottle out to me again.

  This time when I reach for it, he lets me take it and watches me as I lick my lips then lift the bottle, close my mouth around it and tilt it back. I swallow a sip and instantly have to sneeze.