Page 78 of Daggermouth

Greyson stepped closer, peering over Shadera’s shoulder at the creation. A small smile formed on his lips as he imagined his father’s face when Shadera appeared at dinner wearing this. The masks of the Heart were meant to erase individuality, to create a uniform society where rank was visible but personality remained subdued. This mask did the opposite—it screamed identity, defiance, rebellion. It declared its wearer dangerous.

His father would hate it. Which made Greyson love it all the more.

The strategic part of his mind calculated the advantages. This was more than aesthetic rebellion—it was psychological warfare. When Shadera appeared at his side wearing a skull mask, the message would be unmistakable. A Daggermouth stood with the Serels, not against them. It would create the exact narrative his father wanted while subverting it through symbolism he would despise—that Shadera still belonged to the Boundary.

Still Shadera said nothing as she turned the mask in her hands.

“It’s what Greyson requested,” Lira started. “He asked me to make something that you would actually want to wear.”

Shadera’s eyes flicked to Greyson with momentary surprise before pulling them back to the mask.

“I designed it myself,” Lira continued. “I thought the skull motif appropriate given your associations. The Daggermouths use a skull symbol, do they not?”

“They do,” Shadera answered quietly.

“That’s what I thought, and it will match the mark—”

“It’s perfect,” Greyson interrupted before Lira could finish, shooting her a stern look.

Shadera still had not seen his mark, another thing she didn’t know about him. She would find out eventually that her mask also resembled his own symbol, but if he was going to get her to wear it, now was not the time for that revelation.

She carefully returned the mask to its box, her movements more relaxed now. “Thank you. I expected your brother to put a potato sack over my head, so this is an improvement.”

To Greyson’s surprise, Lira laughed—not her practiced social laugh, but a genuine sound that he hadn’t heard in so long. “I suggested the sack, actually. Grey insisted on something more dignified.”

Shadera’s lips quirked upward, reluctant amusement breaking through her habitual guardedness. Something shifted in the air between the women—not friendship, nothing so simple, but a momentary acknowledgment of common ground.

“What exactly do you do?” Shadera asked Lira, her posture relaxing fractionally as she leaned back against the counter and tilted her head.

Greyson felt a prickle of warning at the back of his neck. He knew that look, had seen it multiple times in their own interactions. Shadera wasn’t just making conversation, she was gathering intelligence. Before he could intervene, Lira was answering.

“I manage public relations for the Heart,” she said, her voice taking on the practiced cadence she used for official functions. “Specifically, I oversee the media and the narrative regarding the Serel family and Heart governance. I determine what information reaches the Cardinal and Boundary, and how it’s presented.”

“So you’re the one who makes sure everyone in the rings gets a good view when your brother executes their friends on the live stream.” Shadera’s voice had gone flat, the brief moment of camaraderie evaporating.

Greyson stepped forward. “That’s not—”

“No, let me answer this,” Lira interrupted, raising a hand to stop him. She tuned, facing Shadera directly. “Yes. I am. I make sure everyone sees exactly what the Heart wants them to see. I craft the stories that keep people compliant, that justify the executions, that maintain the system.” Her voice was steady, unflinching. “I wasn’t born in the Boundary, with the luxury of open rebellion. I wasn’t born in the Cardinal. I was born here, in this prison—make no mistake it is a prison, luxurious as it is—where every step is watched and measured.”

Shadera’s expression remained hard, but she didn’t interrupt. Greyson still moved closer on instinct, preparing for her to attack.

“You think I don’t know what my father is?” Lira continued, something raw breaking through her polished exterior. “You think I don’t understand that the Heart is corrupt, that the system is broken? I’ve known it since I was old enough to recognize the fear in our maids’ eyes.”

She leaned on the counter closer to Shadera, her voice dropping lower.

“I do what I must to survive, just like you. The difference is that my survival doesn’t just depend on my own actions, but on my father’s perception of my loyalty. Do you think I’m safe because of my last name? Because of this?” She tapped a finger against her mask. “I could be on that platform tomorrow if I step out of line—if I speak against him. If I show an ounce of sympathy for the wrong cause.”

Greyson watched this exchange with growing unease. He’d never heard Lira speak so openly about her position, not even to him. There was a naked honesty in her words that made him acutely aware of how much she normally concealed, even from family.

“Why don’t you—” Shadera began.

“Why don’t I do something about it?” Lira finished for her. “Because I lack the power, the authority, the position. Because I am a woman ina system designed by men to keep power in their hands. Because every time I’ve tried to mitigate suffering, I’ve been reminded of my place.”

Lira reached up and touched her mask, a gesture that seemed unconscious, habitual. “This isn’t just a symbol of status. It’s a muzzle. A constant reminder that my face, my identity, my very existence belongs to the Heart first, to the Serel name second, and to me last.”

The silence that followed felt weighted, heavy with truths that were rarely spoken aloud in the Heart. Greyson held his breath as the two women reassessed each other, calculating where to go from here.

“I don’t like you,” Lira said bluntly to Shadera. “Your people killed my brother. But we share a common enemy, whether you recognize it or not.”