The music swells and confrontation is forgotten as Mab's arrival is announced. She steps into the world as if it belongs to her and, in a way, it does. Her family owns half of this village and, in a less literal sense, more than half of its people. Am I imagining that everyone holds a collective breath at the sight of her?

She is stunning. Seemingly more so each time I see her. A long, ceremonial dress trails behind her as she descends. She holds the fawn gently in her arms to keep it from tripping over the flowing hem of her skirts. Her eyes light in a practiced smile as she greets some of the more notable guests, her father leading her from cluster to cluster, shaking hands and accepting congratulations on her behalf. It is only in moments of conversational lull that I see her attention drift elsewhere. On something faraway. Unseen.

What goes on inside that beautiful mind? For all of her popularity, Mab seems always to be alone. No close friends. Even her family presents her as more ornament than actual offspring. For all of his boasted ownership of her, I doubt she's shared more than a few friendly words with Köv. One can only imagine who the girl truly is. Little about anyone here is more than flash and façade.

Her father leads a group of laughing men to the bar to pour them drinks, and Mab steals the opportunity to dash out the backdoor. I follow, relishing the idea of fresh air as much as the likelihood of seeing her again.

The garden is lit with strings of flickering candle light. Color dances upon the petals of flowers too beautiful and exotic to even be named. My eyes scan for her and find only a few chatting patrons. The sound of the band mingles pleasantly with the scattered conversation. A fountain burbles nearby, somewhere behind the hedges, and I make up my mind to try to find it.

Vines climb the walls of her childhood home, roses sprouting from the trellis. I cannot begin to fathom living in such opulence. I wondered if she dines on wine and venison every night. Thinking, then, of her Incarnate, I feel a shiver.

I follow the shrubs of all sizes and shapes, enchanted. Never before have I been so immersed in richness. Everything here seems vibrant. The colors, the sounds, the fragrances. A blooming gardenia trails my sleeve, and I sneeze.

"Bless you."

I am startled by the intrusion before realizing that I am, in fact, the intruder here. Mab sits alone on the fountain wall. Well, she isn't alone. The fawn trembles pitifully in her lap. Before I can ask what she is doing all the way out here, alone, at her own party, she answers.

"She doesn't like all the noise." Mab nods at the frightened animal and places a steadying hand on its back. "Come. Sit by me. I don't want anyone to see us."

I do as commanded, unable to refuse even if I might have wanted... which I certainly don't. Having her so near is unsettling, but Mab seems not to notice my discomfort. Her eyes are consumed with the fragile creature. Eventually, her fawn grows accustomed enough to my presence to raise its head from the protective shelter of its curled body. A nose nuzzles curiously into my arm, and I stroke the velveteen muzzle.

"She's sweet," I observe in low tones.

"She likes you," Mab answers as if that alone explains it. Would it be less sweet if it didn't like me? It's hard to imagine the trembling creature posing any threat, but then the same could be said for Mab.

I look again into the fawn's large, lucid eyes. In them, it seems to be weighing whether or not it can trust me. The poor animal hasn't had much time to adjust, but I suspect that its transition has not been particularly easy. A dog howls in the distance, and I feel the deer quiver in response.

"I almost feel bad taking her." The words catch me so off-guard that I don't have a response for them. "She doesn't belong here. Really, I don't either, but at least I've learned to bear it. This little one, though..." Mab's words fade on her tongue.

"What do you mean 'take' her?" The girl eyes me as if I've interrupted a conversation she was having with herself. After considering, she deigns to answer.

"Well, she was out there all alone. She followed me. I thought perhaps that her mother had abandoned her, but... Maybe I shouldn't have assumed. Maybe I should have left her." Mab traces the animal's knobby spine with a delicate finger. "They leave their fawns, sometimes, you know. To protect them. The mother deer. But I watched all night, and no one came. In the end, I just..." 

She shrugs, but does not have to explain further. I can imagine. Leaving this defenseless creature alone out there would have been a hard decision to make. 

"I couldn't abandon her, too." We sit in silence, admiring the slight and ephemeral beauty of the poor animal. In time, her spots will fade. She will grow tall and lean and far less vulnerable. Strength, though, was its own kind of beauty.

"Not like Köv." The venom in her words surprises me. Mab adeptly interprets my silence as ignorance. "Oh, you don't know?" She straightens her dress harshly as if fighting to declare her vehemence. 

"He kidnapped that pup. He and Agan did it together. They were bragging about it. Or Köv was, anyway... Agan never seems to say much of anything, does she?" Brushing away the aside, Mab finishes her rant. "He was so desperate to have a wolf." Then she looks as if she might cry. "The poor mother. I heard her howling all night."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?"

Mab scoffs.

"Who? The Elder? My father? They were thrilled. Another heir. And me, his future lady." She sighs. "Sometimes I just feel like nothing I say matters."

"Of course, it does."

The girl's lip trembles hopefully as she looks at me, and then she rolls her eyes.

"Thanks, but you're wrong." I venture to correct her before realizing that I have nothing to counter. "All my family cares is that I am their perfect little girl. I have to look perfect. Be perfect. It's exhausting. I can't go anywhere without my mother agonizing over my hair and my clothes. I have to weigh every word before I say it, and Köv..." My pleasure betrays itself at her obvious frustration with him, but she seems too invested in her words to take notice.

"Who would want to marry Köv? What good is it to marry a leader, if it is a man like him? He would do everything all wrong. Why can't I be a leader? I would do it so much better." To this, I have no argument. A female Elder? It has never been done. But if ever there was one, I believe it could be her. Mab takes my silence as disbelief and rears with frustration.

"I am just as strong as any boy, and I am ten times smarter. I could--"

"No, no," I stammer. "I agree with you." The rest of her argument is lost in a huff as her fire is sated.

"Yeah," she says. "Well, no offense, Kal, but that doesn't mean much." As if to assuage any hurt feelings, she continues. "People like us don't make the rules around here in case you haven't noticed."

"People like us?" What in the world could she and I have in common? "You're the daughter of the richest man in the village."

"What good does that do me? To be somebody's daughter. To be somebody's wife. I'm me, Kalyn. I want to be me. Just me. Why can't that ever be enough for anyone else?" She sighs and rises. "I'd better get back." As I watch her leave, I can't help but feel like I've disappointed her.