Page 13 of Rhapsody of Ruin (Kingdoms of Ash and Wonder #1)
Elowyn
The Moonveil gallery was hushed, its glass walls glowing faintly with ward-light, the constellations etched into them still glimmering from last night’s glamour. Here, in this private alcove, the court’s noise dimmed to a hum, and I could finally draw breath without masks staring.
Nyssa sat at the low table, her healer’s mask discarded for once, her sharp eyes on me as she poured tea from a pot that smelled faintly of bitter root and citrus peel.
“The scandal is already halfway to legend,” she said, her voice low.
“They say you humiliated your brother in front of half the court.”
“They say that every day,” I replied, but my chest tightened. I could still feel Iriel’s smile when I called him out, the dangerous glitter in his eyes that promised retaliation. “We must shape the story before it shapes us.”
Nyssa nodded. “Then we’ll call it what it was, duty. You upheld law, not sentiment.”
“Exactly.” I smoothed the parchment before me and dipped my quill. My handwriting was flawless, precise. The note I composed to my mother’s steward was equally so: The princess wishes to affirm her obedience to the Queen’s vision and will perform flawlessly at tonight’s audience.
It was a lie we both needed.
When the ink dried, I sprinkled the sand across it, then folded and sealed it with the Thalassa crest. A servant came for it at once. I let him see only serenity when I placed it in his hands. Inside, my pulse hammered.
“Send a parcel to the Namyr boy’s family,” I told Nyssa when we were alone again. “Two sacks of grain, a pouch of coin, and silence. If anyone asks, they are being rewarded for diligence.”
Her lips curved, not quite a smile, more a shadow of pride. “It will be done.”
I turned to the chamberlain who hovered just outside the alcove, a stack of seating charts in his hands.
His mask was thin silver, his eyes sharp with quiet calculation.
“Move Prince Rhydor to the second tier at tonight’s banquet.
Seat him between Lady Isolde and Lord Arven, they will shield him if the nobles turn the conversation back to Masking. ”
The chamberlain hesitated. “And if the Queen notices?”
“Then she will see me trying to protect her new alliance,” I said smoothly. “It will serve her pride.”
He bowed and retreated, charts rustling.
I pressed my palms flat to the table, steadying myself.
I needed more than instinct tonight. I needed precision.
Three talking points: first, praise the opal wine from the southern vineyards; second, remark on the craftsmanship of Varcoran masks; third, shift any mention of last night to the weather wards over the gardens, and how well they held. Safe topics. Harmless ones.
My jewelry box gleamed in the soft light.
I opened it and let my fingers rest on the pieces one by one.
The emerald earrings my mother had given me, too bold.
The amethyst brooch from Iriel, too sharp a message.
At last I chose a chain of silver moons, delicate and obedient.
The kind my mother would see and believe a signal of compliance.
“Subtle,” Nyssa said.
“Subtle keeps me alive,” I replied.
I studied my reflection in the glass. My mask was perfect, the curve of my lips steady, my eyes cool. Still, I practiced the smile, the one that showed no teeth, the one that suggested interest without revealing it, the one my mother called “pliant.” I hated it. I wore it anyway.
When the bells tolled for evening, I rose. My gown whispered as I walked, silver moons cool against my throat. Every step down the corridor was measured. Every turn of my wrist rehearsed. By the time I entered the great hall, I had remade myself into the daughter my mother wanted.
The nobles descended at once, circling like fish scenting blood.
“Princess,” one crooned, mask feathered in blue, “such elegance after such… excitement.”
I smiled the practiced smile. “It is our duty to remember that order is the greatest elegance.”
Another lord leaned closer. “But surely you were frightened, with the dragon at your side, ”
“On the contrary,” I said smoothly, “I was grateful to see our law upheld by both kingdoms.”
Whispers rippled. Masks tipped. Some narrowed their eyes. Others inclined their heads.
I gave them nothing more.
As I moved through the crowd, I set a ledger in my mind.
Lord Arven had bowed slightly when I spoke, mark him down as one who backed me.
Lady Isolde pressed her fan tighter, supportive, but cautious.
Sylara’s fan snapped open in a sharp laugh, mockery.
Half the Varcoran line stayed silent, waiting to see who prevailed. I counted them all.
The music swelled. My smile did not falter. My mask did not crack. Inside, my pulse thundered, but no one saw.
Tonight, I would perform perfectly.
But I would also watch.
Every glance, every whisper, every nod of approval or flicker of derision, I recorded. One day, I would need leverage strong enough to turn performance into power.
And when that day came, neither my mother nor my brother would see it until it was too late.