Blackveil (41 page)
Did I truly see that? Or was it some fancy?
At some point he had crushed the remains of his tart in his hand, raspberry preserves oozing between his fingers like blood. Whatever he did or did not see, it left him feeling off balance. No wonder Karigan G’ladheon had been so disoriented after gazing into the looking mask. What sorts of things had she seen? She who had access to powers ...
He glanced at his dragon ring, but it revealed nothing more than its usual ruby radiance. What had he expected? Some flare of magic? For the gold dragon to wriggle around his finger? He shuddered. Whatever the looking mask had shown him, real or not, was damned disturbing.
He could have wondered about it more, but there was an outcry from the center of the ballroom floor.
LADY ESTORA’S MASQUE
L
ady Estora Coutre was thrilled by how well her efforts to create a memorable masquerade ball were being received by her guests. The comments she overheard about the event proclaimed the food unsurpassed and the decorations beyond clever. Dancers filled the dance floor without fail and it was great fun trying to figure out who was behind each mask.
ady Estora Coutre was thrilled by how well her efforts to create a memorable masquerade ball were being received by her guests. The comments she overheard about the event proclaimed the food unsurpassed and the decorations beyond clever. Dancers filled the dance floor without fail and it was great fun trying to figure out who was behind each mask.
Her father might grumble about all the parties, but she’d tired of the gloomy winter and the hard, unyielding walls of the castle. She was determined to bring light and festivity into her life. If she was going to be spending the rest of her days here, she might as well make the best of it.
Now if she could find Zachary, there was something she wanted to show him.
Someone touched her wrist, a woman with a swan mask. “My lady, a most excellent masque. Why, it’s been years and years since there has been one to attend in all of Sacor City. Thank you for organizing it.”
The compliment warmed Estora, and she almost wanted to skip like a little girl, for it had come from Lady Creen, who was usually very critical of anything that came to her attention.
Estora found Colin Dovekey at one of the tables, with his blue eye mask, filling a cup with punch.
“Have you seen Zachary?” she asked him.
“I believe he stepped out for air,” Colin replied. “Would you care for some punch?” He offered her his cup.
“No, thank you.” She left Colin and worked her way through the room, greeting guests as she went. She was hardly surprised Zachary would step outside for air. He seemed to enjoy parties well enough, but now and then he required a respite from the crowds.
A Weapon opened a balcony door for her. She shivered when she stepped out into the cold. Zachary turned toward her. He was not wearing his mask, and she couldn’t say she blamed him, for it was heavy and must be hot.
Their costumes had been inspired by legends of the sea kings. Ever since Lord Amberhill’s visit and gifts, she couldn’t seem to remove the stories from her mind, so she’d turned Zachary into one of the legendary kings and herself into one of the witches of the sea that beguiled unwary mariners onto the shoals of islands, capturing them body and soul.
“Zachary,” she said. “It is so cold out here. You’ll catch a chill!”
“Oh, I don’t think so. The air is bracing.”
“Even so, you are missed, and there is something you should see.” She took his arm and guided him toward the door.
“Very well.” He grabbed his mask as he went, and then paused. When she turned to see what was the matter, she observed him bowing to the darkness. She squinted and discerned a figure in shadow at the far end of the balcony.
“What was that about?” she asked him after they entered the ballroom.
He chuckled. “I just had an audience with Queen Oddacious.”
“Queen Oddacious? Oh, yes, what a peculiar costume. She was out there?”
“Yes. Apparently a rather shy person despite the costume.”
Estora would find out who it was later. It wasn’t unusual for Zachary to strike up a conversation with just about anyone. He had as much respect for the lowly tradesman as those of the noble class, an admirable quality in a king. So she wasn’t surprised he’d found someone to speak with out on the balcony, and she could certainly see how that costume would pique his interest, because it certainly piqued hers. Still, there he’d been out in the dark, just him and some unknown woman ...
She nearly laughed aloud. Could it be she felt a tinge of jealousy? She and Zachary had been spending more time together than ever, sharing afternoon tea, he bringing her to meetings and audiences, and seeking her counsel on matters of court. Of course she did not expect him to change his stance on any of his decisions, but there were times when her observations had made a difference. She was enjoying her role as she prepared to become queen, and a real friendship was blossoming between the two of them that would certainly ease the transition into marriage.
At one time Estora had been reluctant to marry, but that was before her abduction. Now she was grateful to be alive and safe. And, she had been touched by Zachary’s concern for her upon her return. She didn’t think it was entirely his apprehension over what her father would do if she didn’t return safely, either.
She appreciated his solicitous attentions. If there was still a part of him that remained aloof, she thought that, too, would change with time. After all it would be unseemly for him to act
too
familiar with her, and because of who they were, they were under particular scrutiny from all quarters.
too
familiar with her, and because of who they were, they were under particular scrutiny from all quarters.
“What is it you wish me to see?” Zachary asked.
“Something entertaining,” she replied. That was, if she could find the tumbler with the looking mask. Perhaps it was silly of her to draw him into such a trivial amusement, but when she gazed into the looking mask, she swore she saw something more than just her own reflection: just a brief flash of herself beaming down at an infant in her arms. An infant with soft golden hair. At least she thought that’s what she saw. Maybe she had seen only what she wished to see. Regardless, the image had brought her much delight and she hoped Zachary would see something similar.
The looking masks she had gazed into when a girl attending masquerades back home had never produced such a vision, but she and her friends would make them up anyway. Once she had pretended she’d seen herself becoming queen. Funny that it was coming true.
“Where is he?” Estora muttered.
As if in answer to her query, the tumbler appeared out of the crowd with a backflip and landed before them.
Estora clapped her hands. “Well done!” To Zachary she said, “I’ve had my turn with the looking mask. Now it’s yours.”
Zachary half-smiled. “I haven’t looked into one of these since I was a boy.”
“And what did you see?”
“A boy. A boy hoping to see something great.”
They exchanged grins and then he looked into the mask. Some guests collected around them to observe their king participating in so frivolous a game.
As Estora watched Zachary, she saw all signs of pleasure had fled his features. He gazed into the mirror unblinking, as though transfixed.
“He seems quite in love with himself,” one of Estora’s cousins jested. “Perhaps there will be no room for you at the wedding!”
There was laughter from those in hearing range, but Zachary did not join in. He did not move, and an uneasy silence followed until a few moments later the tumbler leaped away.
Zachary watched after him, looking as if he’d just awakened from a dream.
“What did you see, Your Highness?” Estora’s cousin asked.
“Yes,” others chimed in. “What did you see?”
Zachary smiled, but Estora could tell it was forced. “I saw,” he said, “the best king Sacoridia has ever known.”
“And what was his name?” someone called out.
This was greeted by more laughter, but Zachary did not answer. He returned his gaze to where they’d last seen the tumbler, his expression serious.
When the onlookers dispersed, Estora asked him, “What did you
really
see?”
really
see?”
She never received an answer, for a man in a red coat wearing the mask of a lion rushed toward them with a yell, a dagger bared in his hand.
Estora screamed.
THE KING’S VISION
K
arigan wearily ascended the steps that led out of the ballroom. On her way out, she had paused only to sample a few of the oysters chilling in the hull of the sloop and found them as fresh as if she were on the docks of Corsa. How that was managed, considering the miles between Sacor City and the nearest shoreline, she did not know.
arigan wearily ascended the steps that led out of the ballroom. On her way out, she had paused only to sample a few of the oysters chilling in the hull of the sloop and found them as fresh as if she were on the docks of Corsa. How that was managed, considering the miles between Sacor City and the nearest shoreline, she did not know.
In any case, they had revived her spirits a little after her disturbing experience with the looking mask, and the disappointment of not having been able to reveal herself to King Zachary. She would not have such a chance again before leaving for Blackveil. Perhaps never again.
When she reached the top landing, she stopped and turned to take in one last view of the masquerade ball. It seemed just the same as when she arrived, the dancers flowing around the ballroom floor; the music, conversation, and laughter drifting up to her. The colors, the light, the motion.
It was a pretty picture, Karigan thought, but surreal. A gilded dream she was not a part of. Never would be. Did not, she decided, want to be. Riding Condor through the woods, feeling the surge of his powerful muscles as he galloped, the rhythm of hoofbeats, and the wind against her face—the freedom of the ride—that was real; free of masks and all they implied, the only dance she required.
She turned away thinking of the comfort of her own chamber, and maybe a cup of tea, when a scream stopped her short. She whipped around, jangling the bells of her crown. Down below a man in red charged the king, a dagger flashing in his hand.
It took a moment for Karigan’s mind to digest what was happening. An assassin! “No!” she cried.
The scene turned into a knot of chaos. Before the man reached the king, Weapons in black converged on him, guests in colorful finery falling away. Dancers collided into one another in the confusion. Some ladies fainted. Shouts and more screaming rose above discordant music, the conductor doggedly directing his musicians as if to get through whatever calamity had befallen the ball, his musicians desperately trying to keep up with him.
The assassin struggled in the vortex of Weapons, his shouts rising above the clamor. “You killed him! My father! He died in exile. I have no land, no title, nothing!” It was followed by more Karigan could not make out.
King Zachary put a protective arm around Lady Estora and hurried her past the melee and toward the stairs. Several Weapons broke off from the main knot to accompany them. As they launched up the stairs, Karigan moved into a niche behind a marble statue of Hiroque of the Clans to clear the way.
Four Weapons, hands on the hilts of their swords, preceded King Zachary and Lady Estora. In the lead was Donal. Somehow he sensed her presence in the niche and spared her a glance and a nod. To her surprise, he did not order her to leave.
Does he recognize me?
she wondered in amazement.
Even in this costume?
she wondered in amazement.
Even in this costume?
King Zachary and Lady Estora followed more slowly.
“—disagreed with the exile of his father, of course,” King Zachary was saying. “And apparently exile disagreed with Hedric D’Ivary. I assume from his son’s accusation the old man did not survive life in the north.”
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