Mask of Shadows

by Linsey Miller

  I strolled through the doors, eyes only for Our Queen. She was a vision of death draped in black velvet. Snowdrops fresh from the gardens were woven into a crown atop her shaved head, and a dusting of silver sparkled on her eyelids and in the hollow of her throat. She’d a corset of black velvet laced with steel, the stamp of the imperial army across her chest. Her long, delicate hands curled over the arms of her throne. A metal gauntlet tipped with bear claws covered her right hand. She held out her left to me. I kneeled.

  “My new Opal.” She beckoned me forward, rings flashing. Her fourth finger crooked, the opal ring flashing. “And you’ve brought me a present.”

  I pressed a kiss to the opal and placed the bloody credit coin in her hand. “Of course, Our Queen.”

  “Of course.” She smiled and covered her laughter with her gauntleted hand. “You are eager to please, and I am eager to accept. You are mine and mine alone, and you will clear away all who stand in the way of Igna.”

  “Yes, Our Queen.”

  “Good. Stand.”

  I did, and she pulled my face to hers, her lips pressed to my forehead. She smelled of lemons and lavender.

  “I didn’t think you knew,” I whispered. “I thought you were justice.”

  “There is no true justice, and I have let you down, my darling.” She raised a hand to my face and cupped my jaw, fingers cool beneath the edges of my mask. “But I will make it up to you—the traitors are out of time, and their deaths are overdue. Make them pay, quickly and subtly, as you did Seve and Pau.”

  She dropped her hands and swept by me, leaving a wake of perfume and confusion.

  “My court.” Our Queen raised her arms wide. “My new Honorable Opal is upon us. Behave yourselves.”

  And with that, I was Opal—noble and deadly.

  A servant led me to a long table, and I sat next to Amethyst. Her hand found mine under the table.

  “Relax.” She squeezed my hand and let go. “We’ll have our own party later.”

  Ruby was talkative, making up with his body what he lacked in facial expressions, and Isidora dal Abreu nodded to me from her seat across him. They were engaged in a loud, exaggerated argument over poetry I’d never heard or read, with several other nobles I’d never met. Elise listened intently, too far away to speak to me, and I half-listened. The art others heard in poetry had never spoken to me.

  Nicolas del Contes cheered his wife on quietly in the argument. His wide brown eyes followed her gesturing hands, and he lounged back in his chair, long legs splayed out under the table. He grinned when he caught me staring.

  I’d have to deal with him tonight.

  A long high note drowned out Ruby’s latest poem, and Isidora dragged Nicolas to the dance floor in her haste to escape Ruby. He only laughed.

  Amethyst spun an older lord with silver-streaked hair around the edge of the dancers, and Ruby vanished into the crowd with a blushing Alonian lord who stumbled over his own feet. Emerald glanced at me across Amethyst’s abandoned chair.

  “Not a dancer?” Emerald asked. “I’m sure your young love will sweep you off your feet soon.”

  “You watched everything, didn’t you?” I ducked. Elise was off somewhere, and I’d lost track of her. “Dancing not your style?”

  Emerald shook her head. “I’m not really the romantic partner type, but much like you, I’d rather not explain my existence every time I step out in public. You’ll learn about us all soon enough—we share common quarters.”

  She pointed over my shoulder. I turned.

  Elise, dressed in starry silver cotton draped like rose petals, bowed. “You look very handsome, Your Honor.”

  “Thank you.” My ill-fitting mask halved my vision, but nothing could hide Elise’s grace. “You look lovely, Lady de Farone.”

  She blushed and held out her hand, foot tapping to the tune of an archlute. I swallowed.

  “I’m afraid I have to disappoint you.” I gestured to my feet. “I have no idea how to dance.”

  “I’ll lead, you follow.” She pulled me from my chair and placed one of my hands on her waist as we walked. The other she held tight in her own. “I had to bribe Ruby to find out you were Opal. You owe me a dance.”

  “Well, I have to repay a debt.” I scrunched my nose till the mask rose, and I could see the high spots of color on her cheeks and how her eyes searched for mine through the mask. “What’s wrong?”

  “I miss your eyes.” She led me through a series of turns, fingers lacing through mine.

  “I could rob you.” I laughed and splayed my hand over her side, taking in the warmth of her skin. I’d not been this close to her since that night, and we’d only those simple memories, but I missed the press of her against me and the flutter of her lips against my neck. We’d so many memories to make. “A bit of familiarity might make you feel better?”

  She smiled. “Probably not the best idea. We’ll have to settle for dancing.”

  “Yes. Settle.”

  We turned, Elise still leading, and her fingers crept up my collar. I stumbled over her feet.

  “Sorry, sorry.”

  It was all new and happening so fast, but I was here and she was with me. I played with the ends of her hair, the soft strands escaping her intricate crown of braids and curling around my fingers. She shuddered.

  “This isn’t so bad though.” The crowd hid us from prying eyes, too many loves and friends caught up in their own lives to care. Elise’s fingers crept farther up my neck with each step. I leaned forward to ease her grip. A spot of ink freckled her nose. “What was the poem?”

  Elise blushed, eyes widening. “What?”

  “You wrote a poem on my arm.” I trailed my fingers down the arch of her neck, her shoulder, her wrist, and laced our fingers. The music pitched and we spun into the press of bodies. I pulled her closer. “I want to know what it said.”

  Whatever I was now, whatever Our Queen had made me, I had Elise, and she would have me. The ink was washed from my skin, but the memories would never fade.

  “It was only part of one.” She ducked her head into the curve of my throat. Rosewater and lemons lingered in her hair, sharp and fresh and clearing the scent of death from my new mask. “It’s not even from Igna.”

  I laughed. “You wanted me to translate a poem in a language I don’t know and wasn’t learning?”

  “I’m still learning it. The poetry was for practice.” She exhaled, breath fluttering against my throat. “Under the moon alone, I broke as ice breaks.”

  I slid to a stop in the middle of the dance floor. “What?”

  “It’s only one line,” she murmured.

  “But it’s sad.” I spun her as the dancers swelled around us, heels whispering across the tile with each pluck of the strings. “Breaking—it’s dying, isn’t it?”

  “It’s not literal.” Elise laid her cheek against my shoulder. Hidden in the crowd and by the twisting collar of her dress, she kissed the skin beneath my ear. “And sometimes a little death is a good thing.”

  I’d have to ask Ruby about poetry.

  The song died and the crowd stilled. Elise brought us to a stop, and I brushed her cheek, straightening, no better at dancing. She dropped her hands, and I bowed slightly as she stepped back.

  “I want you to meet my father.” She smiled, tugging me from the dance floor. “He’s still sick, so he won’t talk long. Don’t worry.”

  I pressed the mouth of my mask to her cheek. “Anything you want.”

  She shook her head and darted off. Meeting him wouldn’t be bad so long as she was at my side. A servant drifted past with a tray of drinks, and I followed them, picking up a cup of mulled wine to warm my hands. I settled into a window seat, a cold breeze at my back.

  “Beware the Erlend winter,” a soft voice said to my left. “It will come quickly and quietly if we’re already getting northern winds.”

  Forty-Six

  “Our new Honorable Opal.” Nicolas del Contes bowed next to me, tall frame barely fitti
ng in my small nook. “Welcome to court.”

  “Lord del Contes.” I nodded back. He was predatory up close, and the runes peeking out from under his clothes set my teeth on edge. A Master of the Soul—one of the only ones left, the only one who’d nothing to do with the shadows—with the ink beneath the thin flesh of his hand and feet to prove it. During the old days, he could’ve transported himself from place to place no matter the distance with just a rune. And now he was stuck here.

  “What’s that mean?” I held my hand out the window, the current of the Caracol rushing far beneath us. “About the Erlend winter?”

  “Old saying—Erlend winters are bitterly cold.” He leaned against the wall, gaze scanning the dancers. “Sooner the wind blows in, longer and colder the winter will be. Makes it hard to counter Lord del Weylin, but he should be easier to manage now that you took Seve out of the equation.”

  It took everything within me not to tense and deny it immediately. I cocked my head to the side, turning slightly to him. “Didn’t he fall out a window?”

  “Well, off the roof but only after you pushed him.” Nicolas stared at me, face even but eyes cold. “Please don’t insult me by playing the fool. You’re after the people who allowed Nacea to fall, a list nearly identical to the list of noble Erlend houses, I’m sure.”

  “If you’d cleaned up your messes, Lord del Contes, I wouldn’t have to be.” Rage straightened my spine and forced me to stand taller. I was already Opal. He couldn’t touch me. “You let your fellows get away with it.”

  “You should call me Nicolas. We’ll work together often enough.” He raised his hand to his mouth and held it there in the telltale sign of keeping a secret. “The art of keeping a very fragile, very new country intact without falling back into the violence that preceded it is that you must separate your personal feelings from your nation’s needs. Which is why Our Queen designed your final test—do not kill anyone but Thorn da Tonin.”

  That didn’t make it any better. I shrugged.

  “Why was Three flayed? In the forest?” Nicolas leaned down so he could look me in the eyes. “Exactly like the shadows. Why?”

  “To scare me.”

  “No, to scare everyone.” Nicolas set his glass down on the window ledge behind us and wiggled his fingers, casting long shadows on the stones. “Our Queen’s claim to the throne, to the nation she created, is based on her history as the mage who cast out magic and destroyed the shadows to protect us. But if there were proof that magic still existed, that the shadows still lived, that she had not truly gotten rid of them, no one would have cause to listen to her. She would just be a woman with a crown. The only reason most Erlend nobles bowed to her rule was because they feared her, and we needed them because we needed their land to prevent famine and revolts.”

  “They were the war,” I said. “They were the whole reason we were at war.”

  “And it is much better politically for us if they start the wars.” He straightened up and dropped his voice to a whisper. “It’s true though—Erlend culture is a river overflowing with violence. It may be dammed, it may be guided and useful, but it wears away at the rest of the world. I was born in its currents and know its path, and while I may leave its waters, I will never be free of its pull. But all rivers have a source. If you want to stop Erlend from committing such atrocities again, you must stop Erlend at its source.”

  “Lord del Contes, why are you telling me this?” I asked, finally finding the words I wanted to say amid the swirling mess of uncertainty and anger within me.

  He grinned. “Because we don’t need them anymore.”

  I shifted, not at all happy with that answer but no longer as angry. “That’s it? You just don’t need them anymore?”

  “We. You’re a part of this nation too.” He took a sip of his wine, completely at ease. “Did Seve tell you anything?”

  I hummed, weighed my options, and shook my head. “Nothing I can’t tell you tomorrow.”

  Wasn’t necessarily a lie—I got some names, but I couldn’t do anything with them. Nicolas might know what they meant. Still, would be impossible to handle those lords tonight.

  Isidora and Ruby stopped next to us. Isidora glanced from my clenched hands to Nicolas’s face and sighed, glancing away long enough to flag the closest server. He bowed, blond hair falling over his pale eyes. She whispered a request to him.

  “Are you corrupting my new protégé?” Ruby asked before plucking a knife from the server’s tray as he ran off and brandishing it at Nicolas. “He’s mine. You can find some other terrible swordsmen to teach your terrible ways.”

  I scowled and turned to him. “I’m not terrible.”

  “You’re appalling,” Ruby drawled.

  “We were talking.” Nicolas pressed a kiss to Isidora’s offered hand, completely ignoring Ruby. “Are you leaving?”

  She darted up and kissed his cheek. Ruby made a guttural sound of disgust next to me, and Isidora whipped her head to him. He raised his hands in surrender.

  “Ruby’s doing my rounds with me.” She patted his shoulder and glanced at me. “I do house calls with the other physicians at night once everyone is home from work. You should come once you’re settled. It’s a good learning opportunity considering you skipped every day of my training.”

  I nodded and smiled, glad my conversation with Nicolas was done but feeling oddly guilty. I’d been doing other important things.

  The server appeared at her side, one glass of orange blossom water and another filled with mulled wine. She thrust the wine into Nicolas’s hand.

  “You need to relax and eat something before you get back to work.” She moved away, sipping her water till Ruby snatched it from her hands, and beckoned Nicolas.

  “Opal,” Nicolas said softly as he bowed goodbye. “Beware the Erlend winter.”

  And in the space of a breath, he was gone and the familiar scent of spring washed over me. I turned.

  Elise stopped a few paces from me, with her father on her arm.

  “Opal.” Elise politely bowed a little, and I returned it with a slightly deeper bow. With her father’s eyes on us, I’d no desire to make him dislike me more. “I’d like you to meet my father, Lord Nevierno del Farone.”

  I bowed even deeper and ignored the prickling sense of recognition at his name. Of course I’d heard it before. He was Elise’s father.

  Nevierno was old Erlenian, and I was a fool. A traditional name for a traditional man.

  Beware the Erlend Winter.

  “Lord del Farone.” I stayed bowed, with his damned name chilling me down to the bone, and held back the growing ache for Elise in my chest. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Nevierno. Icy peaks and snow-encrusted forests, the old Erlend name for a winter as harsh and as cold as death itself.

  Lady help me, he’d not even used a good secret name.

  Elise hadn’t hated me before, but she certainly would now, no matter how monstrous her father. He had to die.

  “Welcome to court, Opal.” He returned my bow, neck bared. It would be so easy to kill him here. I could jam my blade through the back of his spine and watch the life leave him. Quick and simple. More than he deserved. “I hope my daughter is being welcoming as well.”

  Elise glanced at him, nose wrinkling. He was ill—a pink flush covered his neck and cheeks no matter how he tried to hide it with his high collar, and each word escaped his throat as a dry rasp.

  “She is,” I said carefully, not sure what was off but sure that something was.

  Maybe he was too sick to be particular.

  “Excellent.” He coughed into a handkerchief, hacking up blood, a lung, and Lady knew what else.

  But he was Elise’s father, and better that illness take him than me.

  “I wish you’d go catch Isidora before she does her rounds,” Elise said, glancing at me and rolling her eyes back to him. “She’s bound to have something for that cough.”

  “I am not so old that a cough will kill me.”
He straightened up, folding his handkerchief into squares. A smear of red was bright between the folds.

  Bright as the red cosmetic cream Maud had used on my lips.

  Elise smiled. “Of course not, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

  “Of course, darling.” He tucked his handkerchief into the coat pocket at his hip. Perfect. “I’d hate to ruin the festivities as well as your expectations.”

  “Lord del Farone.” I bowed again, as close as I could without touching him, and handed him my handkerchief. “I insist.”

  He nodded to me, and I let my free hand drift toward his side, as natural as any of Ruby’s wandering gestures. His handkerchief vanished up my sleeve.

  “How generous of you.”

  I glanced at the speck of red on white. Definitely cosmetic cream.

  She stared at his retreating back. “I thought he’d put up more of a fight. Do you think he is that sick?”

  “No.” I handed her my wine. He wasn’t ill in mind or body, only in his soul. You had to be to do what he’d done. “I’m sure he’s tired of getting told off for not seeing her.”

  He wasn’t ill. He’d agreed to see Isidora too easily, and he was Winter. That was a plot if I’d ever heard one—a long game coming to a head.

  Missing this party to see Isidora was either the beginning or the end.

  “I suppose.” Elise took a sip, drifting closer to me with each breath. “I knew he wouldn’t argue with me over it because you’re Opal, but he’d never be—”

  “Generous and understanding?” I curled an arm around her waist and savored the warmth of her body against mine. “How long’s he been sick?”

  Let it be the start. Let me not have to shatter her memories of him so soon, and let Our Queen learn of it quickly.

  “Since summer.” She drawled the word like Ruby. “I hate it. He works all day and night, never speaking to anyone but his assistants and won’t see Isidora because it’s unseemly for a man of his stature to show weakness. Traditions have their place, but this is ridiculous.”

  Erlend’s ideals had ruined more families than Nacean ones.