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I offered a smile, trying not to stare openly, at the undeniably beautiful trio. Lady Viola’s porcelain skin and dark hair possessed an ethereal quality like Carmilla.
“You know my charge, Laura, and this our new guest, Carmilla. She is staying at the schloss temporarily. We thought the ball would be a welcome distraction after...you know.”
Artemisia nodded solemnly. “We’ve heard about the strange illness. Rumors from the gossip mill, but nothing more.”
"Indeed," said Viola, her gaze lingering on Carmilla for a beat too long before she schooled her expression.
Florian, the butler, stepped forward and bowed to Carmilla and I. "A pleasure to meet you. The rumors paint a bleak picture, but I see health blooming where they speak of decay." His words were polite, but his eyes, dark and sharp, lingered on Carmilla.
Carmilla inclined her head in a curt nod, her expression unreadable. A bubble of tension filled the space between them, and I wanted to pin-prick it.
"Well then," said Artemisia, "shall we rejoin the festivities?" Arm in arm, she led the butler and Viola away.
In the throng, the trio exchanged stolen glances at each other, veiled flirtations. A secret language understood only by them. It twisted inside me like an envious serpent, its coils around me tight. I craved what they had. I craved that with a fierceness that surprised even myself.
“Will you dance, Laura?” Carmilla’s lips, a perfect bow painted crimson, parted in a smile.
I regained myself. “Only if I may have a dance with you.”
The melody dipped and soared, drawing the guests into a swirling mass on the ballroom floor. A shadow detached itself from the periphery of the crowd. A masked gentleman, his clothes spilled ink against the gilded walls, cut through the throng and approached us.
Did he wish to ask one of us to dance with him? Annoyance filled me, his presence feeling like an unwelcome note. He drew closer, dousing Carmilla’s smile. She gripped my shoulder.
“Carmilla?”
She forced a smile, but it faltered at the edges. “I’m fine. Just need some air.”
We snuck past my governesses and found a secluded balcony. I closed the drapes behind us. Carmilla leaned against the railing, face tensed, like a sorrowful statue bathed in moonlight. Disquiet settled in my stomach.
“What’s wrong, Carmilla?”
“For a moment, that man reminded me of someone. Someone long ago.” Her eyes clouded for a second as though she was reliving a past memory. “It is nothing. Shall we return inside?”
Her forced composure did not fool me. “Nothings," I said, "are often a tell-tale sign for something. Tell me, Carmilla. Please.”
She smiled at me sadly. “I wish my amnesia took this particular memory away from me. My time at masquerade balls has not always been pleasant. There was one that…left me with this.” She touched the mark etched on her neck.
I traced the scar, and my voice grew tight. “Who did this to you, Carmilla?”
"A serpent masquerading as a gentleman.” Her words scraped raw against the silk of the night. "He was all smiles and charm, until the music stopped and the masks came off. Literally, in his case." A sardonic laugh escaped her. Carmilla turned, the moonlight catching the glint of a tear down her cheek and the wrath in her eyes. "He forced himself on me, his mouth on my neck and…” She swallowed hard. “I tried to scream, but he covered my mouth so no one could hear.”
The sting of unshed tears burned my eyes. I embraced Carmilla, my body wracked with fury. A fierce protectiveness clawed its way up from the depths of my being. “That was no man. He was a monster.”
“And I was a lamb who trusted a wolf in sheep's clothing, but this lamb, " she said, a sharp glint entering her eyes, "learned to bite that night. I sank my teeth into his hand, harder than a starving wolf, until his blood painted my tongue.” She closed her eyes and licked her lip. “I remember the taste of it even now, even as the curses ripped from his throat as he shoved me to the ground."
The image of Carmilla, a cornered animal lashing out at her attacker, filled me with a mix of anger and fierce admiration. Even as a victim, there was a primal strength within her.
Carmilla leaned into my embrace. "The bite saved me,” she whispered, “and cursed me all at once. That girl died that night and was reborn into something sharper, harder, forged in the crucible of that dark night."
My hands instinctively reached out, cupping her face. The moon highlighted the anger, the vulnerability in her features. I ached to erase the pain in her eyes, to undo the monstrous act that had scarred her forever.
"No matter the years that pass by, the scar remains,” she said, pulling away, “a constant echo of that night.”
“Then let it be a reminder of something else.”
I leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the scar on her neck. Carmilla held still. The memory of the monster would remain, etched in her skin, but I vowed to write over it. A promise to be her sanctuary from whatever darkness that had forever touched her.
“This," I said, tracing the outline of the scar with my thumb, "is a mark of your strength. A reminder of the night you survived, not the one you endured." A single drop traced a glistening path down Carmilla’s cheek, and I brushed it away with the pad of my thumb. "Dance with me, Carmilla."
