Mask of Shadows

by Linsey Miller

“It is day one, I suppose.” Ruby waved us to the rack in the corner closet, barely-there runes lining the undersides of his fingers. “Dinner is served in the dining hall, but it is entirely up to you how it goes. There will be food and servants, and you may continue to compete, granted you are not caught and you do not harm anyone else. I’ll see you at breakfast. Or not.”

  Four and Two glanced at each other. Three lingered in the doorway, dirt under her nails and bark clinging to her mask. They disappeared down the pathway, and Ten, Eleven, and Fifteen followed them one by one, not going together but not willing to take their eyes off each other. I eyed the forest.

  “The quarters for our honorable court members are beyond that little forest. Lovely cherry trees in spring.” Ruby paused in the doorway, wiggling his fingers toward the wall. “If you’re caught beyond the wall, they’ll arrest you for trespassing and we’ll disqualify you.”

  I nodded. Ruby glided away, humming.

  Good thieves didn’t get caught.

  And I was the best.

  Eleven

  The forest beyond the wall was overgrowing with deep green pines and towering oaks. A small stream trickled softly under the hum of insects and birds, and I pulled myself onto the edge of the wall. The windows behind me were dark and blank, shadows flickering in the holes when I stared too long. I shook out my arms.

  Nothing but the fuzzy haze of darkness.

  An arrow ripped over my head. I dropped to the wall, stomach to the bricks. Another tore over my shoulder, missing by a hairbreadth, and I rolled forward into the forest. A line of decorative shrubs broke my fall. An arrow burrowed into the tree across from me.

  No footsteps followed. They must’ve been shooting from a window.

  I tossed my glove above the wall. Another arrow slammed into the tree as I caught my glove. They were either on the roof or in one of those windows, but the rooms would be safer. They were out of the way, and I’d no idea how to get to them—I doubted anyone else did. How’d they find that perch in such a short time?

  A guard wandered down a winding path nearby, sword slapping his thigh and empty left sleeve fluttering in the breeze. I waited for him to walk out of sight. Thick curtains of green needles and fading red-gold leaves filtered out the evening sun and forest sounds. It was a miracle the guard hadn’t heard and come running. I dragged myself to my feet.

  “Still there?” I wiggled my fingers over the edge of the wall. Nothing.

  I peeked over it. The courtyard was empty and the windows dark. I’d not seen them last time I’d looked though. Black gloves, black sleeves, black bow would do it. And arrows arced, didn’t they? I traced a line from the arrow embedded in the tree.

  A large empty window at the top of the left building, sill a solid block of wood. It was perfect—high ground, only window on its level, and probably only one entrance. They’d think they were safe.

  I followed the wall till it was flush against the left building, leapt to the top, and slowly scaled the roof, arms and legs burning. No one there but me.

  And the bloodstains from last night.

  The roof outside my window was speckled with red. I peered sideways through the shutter and spied Maud pacing round the room on the other side. I tapped the sill. She tripped.

  “Bless!” Maud pried apart the bells and helped me inside. “There is a door.”

  “And a dozen people waiting for me to walk down that hall.” I flopped onto the bed, pain shooting up my arms. “Can you make me dinner?”

  “That is precisely why I’m here.” Maud fluttered around me, tugging the clean blanket from under my dirty boots. “They didn’t tell us you’d miss lunch, but I have compensated with a meal we usually reserve for floundering new recruits.”

  I glared at her. “Floundering, am I?”

  “Thin.” She set a tray of food next to the bed. “There are clothes in the corner, clean bandages, and a physician’s basic care bag. Change. I’ll set up your food.”

  I rolled out of bed. Maud turned her back to me and busied herself with the food. I peeled off my dress and pulled on a loose tunic. She’d filled the tub, but I’d have to bathe after. Least I was dry.

  “Do any foods make you sick?” Maud stared idly at the opposite wall, kneeling before the tray, and poured a cup of dark chicory. She added a large dollop of honey. “I’m assuming you won’t be sleeping anytime soon.”

  “No foods make me sick, and I won’t be sleeping unless I’m dead.” I fell back onto the bed in time to catch her wrinkling her nose. So she had a sense of humor after all. “You know anything about the last auditions?”

  She pulled a lid from a bowl. Mutton drowned in thick red paste spotted with peas, green chilies, and garlic slivers gave off curls of peppery steam, and I fished out a piece of meat. The mice devoured it before it hit the cage bottom.

  “Only that they happened,” she said dryly. She tossed the mice a pinch of bread. “Dimas was here for Amethyst’s year, and he said we should stay away at night.”

  “Probably best.” I glanced at the mice—still alive. “If you wanted to slip something into an auditioner’s food, how would you do it?”

  “No.” She pushed the tray toward me. “We keep the food covered while we walk. With all the construction, there’s too much dust in the air. You couldn’t do it. Not to my food.”

  I sighed. “It never leaves your sight? Not for a wick?”

  “Vin doesn’t let strangers in his kitchen, and none of us are going to poison you. Each servant cooks each meal, and all of us are in charge of breakfast.” Maud shuffled to my discarded clothes and gathered up the dress. She froze. “The lids sit out overnight. I’ll start washing mine.”

  And no one would guard drying tray lids. I ran a finger down the inside of the lid and came away with nothing but water. I tasted it.

  Warm water.

  I dunked the bread into the egg and took a bite. Lady bless, Maud could cook, and she was clever knowing that the lids sitting out could mean trouble. “Why’d you pick me? What did they tell you about us?”

  Servants had the best gossip, and if Maud wrinkled her nose when laughing, I bet she’d a similar tell when lying.

  “I didn’t, and I wouldn’t have.” She folded my shirt over her arm and leaned against the full tub. “We drew lots, and I selected twenty-three. I am pleased you showed up. One horse in the race is better than none, and I’d have been ruined if they’d stopped at twenty-two.”

  I snorted into my bowl.

  “Why would I pick the scrawniest auditioner?” She shrugged. “I’m not going to lie to or for you.”

  I’d have picked me, but I liked me.

  “We’ve more rules than you,” Maud said after a long moment. “Typical ones—no relationships, no stealing—and specific ones. Nothing important, as far as you’re concerned.”

  “And if your auditioner wins, you’re five pearls richer and sporting a fancy collar.” I tucked into the meal—mice weren’t dead and I was starving—and brandished my spoon at her. “You supposed to stay away so you don’t get hurt? I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “No, it would get you disqualified.” Maud grinned, lips taut over gritted teeth. “Auditioners in the past have not always accepted the appropriate moral code, and the Left Hand holds a romantic spot within the court.”

  I winced. No wonder the rules about hurting those outside the audition were so strict. A physical hit wasn’t the worst way to hurt someone, and we’d command over servants. “I won’t touch you.”

  “Good.”

  “What do you mean romantic?”

  “Desired. Adored.” Maud gestured to the napkin folded next to the tray. “They are Our Queen’s chosen, and the only ones who have her ear. The court members think that if the Left Hand likes them, they are safe. It’s fake—flirtation, adoration. The last Opal loved it, but it means that some auditioners come here looking for a taste of that. Dimas told us to limit our time with you. He says people who kill for money or standing are the wo
rst sort.”

  He wasn’t wrong. Lord Horatio del Seve had made a fortune selling off Nacean goods to Shan de Pau and his questionably legal traders. They would sooner kill a person and strip the corpse than simply pick a few pockets. Loyalty to riches far beyond necessity and no sense of proper responsibility had gotten us into war in the first place. They served themselves and no one else.

  But the Left Hand dispensed justice.

  “Smart.” I wiped my mouth. Eating in a mask was about as easy as breathing in one. “Attempted murder I can handle. Don’t think I can handle you romancing me.”

  “You’re not my type. You’re very short.” Maud stared down her nose at me, blinking slowly. “Plus, it’s completely against the rules. I can’t get promoted if I’m fired.”

  “You’re shorter than me, you know.”

  “Doesn’t change your height, does it?” She pushed herself off the tub. “Leave your dirty clothes by the door, and I’ll pick them up in the morning. The water’s clean. This shirt fits you best, so I’ll wash it tonight. The others were the only ones I could find that looked like they’d fit—I guessed your measurements. Do you need anything else?”

  “No.” I glanced at the folded clothes in the corner, a chill crawling up my throat. She’d brought me clothes—a long dress and a tailored shirt with a floppy collar, thick leggings, fitted pants, and even a pair of wool socks. No questions, and she’d done as I asked. “Not a word about me to anyone. They know what I look like, I lose my shot at surprise.”

  And that was when folks usually started asking a bunch of questions I didn’t want to answer.

  “The tailor who sells secondhand clothes had to take in some of them, but I had him leave the dresses. He always makes them too short. I can tailor anything that doesn’t fit well enough.” Maud smiled, really smiled, showing her teeth and dimpling her round cheeks. “Your measurements aren’t anyone else’s business, and they won’t find out anything from me.”

  I sucked in a breath, any words of thanks I might’ve had buried under years of explanations and tears, and all that came out was “Thank you.”

  “Of course, Auditioner.” Maud nodded and left me speechless.

  I dove for the pile of clothes. They weren’t made for me, but they were clean and dry and the nicest, newest things I’d owned in ages. I laid aside a long flowing tunic—more dress than shirt—and dug through the pants and leggings. The black pair I found was thicker than I was used to wearing but would still fit under my boots. I’d be prepared for the chilly nights at least.

  Maybe Maud was more than all right.

  Twelve

  I bathed fast as I could, the cold water cleansing the ache from my bones, and dumped the dirty bath water down the drain. My bells were still in place, and it didn’t take long to nail the door shut, just a dozen shoulder cracks and groans of pain. I rubbed my thighs.

  I was stronger in my legs than in my arms, and it showed. Might’ve been what tipped Emerald off. But why did my calves still hurt so much then?

  I curled up in the still-damp tub. Dinner settled heavy in my stomach, dragging my eyelids down and hunching me in on myself, and I slid low enough to keep the Twenty-Three–shaped lump in the bed in sight. The darkness closed around me, shadows flickering through the shutters. Light glinted off the bells and gave the pile of blankets in my bed the illusion of breathing. I rolled the ring around my finger.

  Maybe the others would be as tired as me and drop off to sleep first chance they got.

  Stillness fed the darkness, fuzzy shapes creeping under the door. I blinked, and they reeled. The shadows were gone. They were phantoms of my mind come to keep me awake and on edge. There was nothing there. No matter how trained my competition was, they couldn’t move through locked doors and shuttered windows. I laid my knives in my lap. The ax rested at my side.

  I slipped the silver ring up and down my finger. I should give it back. Opal or no, she wouldn’t be hard to find if I ever had time to myself, and seeing her again wouldn’t be all bad. She was an Erlend, but she was pretty and clever. Talking to her had been fun.

  Made me feel listened to.

  I tucked my fingers under my chin, ring against my throat, and watched the window. Darkness crept through the shutters, moonlight cutting through the slats, and I sighed. Listening would do me just as well. I closed my eyes.

  The bells chimed. I leapt up, four soft rings echoing in my head, and tripped over my ax. The bells threw silver light across the room, giving life to the shadows twining around the walls. I grabbed my knives and crawled out of the tub. The ringing stopped.

  The back of my neck itched. A breeze rustled the wire, whistling between the bells, but they didn’t sound. The wind rolled over my skin, but I couldn’t hear it. Gooseflesh prickled up my arms. I peeked outside.

  Nothing.

  The darkness in the corner of my eyes shifted. I froze, breath trapped in my chest. A shadow unfolded itself from the wall, blackness curling and twisting between the bricks, spilling onto the floor. It was shadows come to play tricks. Nightmares while awake.

  It wasn’t real.

  They were never real.

  Darkness rustled over the floor, reaching across the stones and reeling up, writhing in the air, a flicker of a shadow rising to my height and wavering in the breeze behind my shoulder. The sweet, cloying scent of rot crawled into my nose. I squeezed my lips shut.

  Not real, not real, not real.

  Blood dripped on my shoulder—drop after drop seeping beneath my skin and pushing me to my knees. Trails of red leaked down my arm, curling around my wrist and pooling in my palm. Breath whispered against my ear.

  “Is this me?”

  I twisted in the darkness. My sister stared back at me.

  Blood clung to the edges of Shae’s face. The braids I’d twisted around her crown were matted with blood and dirt.

  I dropped my knife. The blade clattered between me and the thing wearing my sister’s face. It tilted its head to the side. Blades were useless, and fighting was worthless. I couldn’t fight my way out of this. I was nothing next to it.

  This was what Erlend had done to us—stolen us, torn us away from what we were, ripped children from their homes and souls from their bodies. Broken bodies, broken memories, broken souls. They’d made us nothing.

  “Is this me?”

  My trembling hands splattered blood across my legs—warm and wet and seeping. “Take her off.”

  “Is this me?”

  “Take her off.” I reached for her face, fingers slipping over the clammy damp of her skin, and gagged. Bile clogged my throat and burned in my nose. “She’s not you. Take her off!”

  “Is this you?” The shadow rolled its head, and Shae’s face slid off. Tendrils of shadow looped around her, stretching the skin into some warped memory of her face. It held it up to me. “Is this you?”

  “Shae.” I pushed her away. “She was Shae Leon.”

  The darkness surged over me, heavy and hot, reeking of flesh and blood and dirt, blowflies scurrying over my skin and maggots roiling under my feet. My heart pounded between us, the only reminder I was alive, and I turned away, desperate to leave, run, wake up, keep my skin away from this thing slipping under my clothes as if they weren’t there. Warmth sliced through my mask and brushed my cheek.

  “Is this me?” it whispered.

  I flung my arms out, second knife ripping through the darkness. My body fell forward, nothing to keep me up, no flesh to hold my blade, and I crashed into the wall. My ears rang, and my arms locked up, fingers clenched around the hilt. The darkness in the room receded.

  No shadow.

  Only real shadows flickering on the walls. I slid my hands along the floor, searching for Shae and found nothing. No blood, no skin.

  The heaviness in my chest wouldn’t lift. The chill on my skin wouldn’t leave.

  I was wet.

  The bells chimed again. Drizzle drifted through the window shutters, striking the bells and setting the
m off. Water misted my arms. I smelled my shoulder.

  Rainwater. Nothing but rain and nighttime.

  It wasn’t real.

  I unclenched my fingers and tossed the knife away, cold weight spreading to my arms. No more sister, no more shadows.

  Only a trick of my mind in the dark.

  I’d thought I was over these nightmares. I dragged myself back to the tub and tumbled inside. My shoulders rammed into the rim, knees uncomfortably folded against my chest, and I tightened my mask over the back of my neck.

  “Only a trick,” I whispered to my hands. I rubbed my fingers over my shirt, erasing the clammy touch of Shae’s long-dead skin. I pressed the ring to my lips. Real—Our Queen was real and warm and alive. Shae was dead, and Our Queen had banished the shadows. I was alone.

  I drifted in and out of sleep, shadows flickering in the corner of my sight all night, peering and writhing over the edge of the tub with browned, rotting eyes and gaping mouths. The rain stopped at dawn.

  I’d gotten no rest and had no strength left. I wanted to sleep but needed to run and never stop, flee from the memories and shadows lingering in this room. The window beckoned.

  I took off over the roof. The shutters were drawn and bare, rainwater dripping down the sills and echoing in my ears. I half-ran, half-slid down the rows of windows rising out of the roof. A pair of bleary eyes that looked like Eleven’s glanced back at me through the slats of one. I raced away from her.

  On the other side of the building, the trio of invited had holed up together in a large room. Two, Three, and Four paced about, getting dressed and stretching. I scaled a defunct chimney nearby, slipping on the wet tiles, and dangled my legs over the chimney’s edge. The tiles laid out beneath me were all loose and slick. Even acrobats wouldn’t risk it.

  I needed to feel them out. If they were to be a trio till they died, they were an issue. I couldn’t fight them all at once.

  “If you’re only in this for the money, there’s a troupe missing tumblers you could join,” Four said before waving to me as he crawled out the window set into the sloping roof.

  “That how you all know each other?” I yawned.