Chapter 29 Choices
Choices
By the time we stepped into the ballroom, my heartbeat still hadn’t found its normal rhythm. Maybe it never would. Tarran walked half a step behind me, close enough that if I stopped too fast, I’d feel her bump into me.
The ballroom was a cathedral of golden candlelight.
High, arched windows draped in gauzy curtains.
Marble floors veined with pale rose. Hundreds of flickering candles floated above us like little fireflies, seemingly supported by nothing.
Music drifted through the air. Violins, harps, the soft flirting of a timid flute.
It all smelled faintly of florals , like everything else we’d encountered so far.
The King’s obsession with roses should really be studied.
I felt Tarran’s hand brush the small of my back, just once, before she melted away toward the shadows at the edge of the crowd. A guide, not a contender. I wished with all my heart that she could actually stand for a trial with me, but that wasn’t in the rules.
The Carls were already inside, Carl-One halfway through a plate of tiny pastries, Carl-Two standing stiffly by his elbow, eyes darting around alertly. When Carl-One spotted me, he lifted a glass and gave me a wide, sticky grin. Not reassuring in the slightest.
And then, the King appeared.
King Adonis moved through the crowd like a ripple, all white and gold, robes heavy with embroidered flowers that looked so real, I half expected them to bloom as he moved. The court parted for him without a word. He didn’t have to speak, as well trained as they were.
“Radiant guests,” he said, his voice warm, complementing the music perfectly. I almost gagged. “Tonight, we witness whether our newest challenger can prove herself worthy of Radiance.”
A hush swept the ballroom. All eyes turned to me, and I fought the urge to shrink into the smallest form of myself.
The King gestured, and an attendant glided forward with a gleaming silver tray. On it sat four intricate masks, the kind you’d see at a masquerade. Each one was beautiful in its own unnerving way.
I stepped closer, the masks staring back at me, studying me.
The first was porcelain white, smooth and flawlessly pristine.
A small white card placed in front of it read beauty.
The second was gold, wide set and glittering, but the edges looked sharp enough to cut.
Deceit, read the card. The third was a soft pink silk, edges draped in white like a veil.
Mercy. And the last, pure midnight and plain with a slight reddish tint to the edges. Wrath.
“Choose,” the King said, voice soft enough only I could hear. “And be true to the face you wear.”
I glanced past him to find Tarran in the shadows.
She watched me with that careful, guarded look, but she didn’t give me any direction.
The escort stood near the King’s right shoulder, draped in that silk that shimmered like starlight—watching me too, though there was something about the way her gaze lingered that made my ribs squeeze tight.
I dragged my eyes back to the masks. My fingers hovered over Beauty. Too obvious. Wrath seemed a little too much. Mercy could be a good option, but it was the grinning gold mask that drew my attention most.
Deceit.
If I was going to survive a kingdom built on perfection, I’d need lies to hide all the ways I wasn’t. No one was perfect, and this kingdom was probably built on lies. My hand closed over the mask.
A murmur rippled over the room, and the King’s smile curled wider. He looked, for a heartbeat, like he wanted to clap.
“Very well.” He lifted a single hand, and the musicians stopped on a single, shivering note. “The trial is simple. Answer all questions and keep your mask on. If your mask slips, or if your answers are not satisfactory, you lose.”
The lights shifted, candles dimming to a cold, shimmering hush. From the floor at my feet, mist coiled up, carrying shadows that flickered and solidified into a shape.
My shape. What was it with this book and constantly making me fight myself?
I stared at her, at me, made of moonlight and silk. She wore the same golden mask, that grin splitting her face where mine was still hidden.
The ballroom floor cleared around us. Nobles lined the edges, eyes hungry as they whispered and watched. Slow, rhythmic music started again, a pulse I could feel thrumming in my bones.
My shadow-self bowed low, like an introduction. I bowed back, or tried to, but my knees were stiff and shaky with nerves. Then, she lunged, and I stepped back just in time to turn it into a spin.
We were fighting without a weapon, each step a test. She mirrored me move for move—until she didn’t.
She’d twist when I expected her to follow.
She’d fake left and snap right. I had to anticipate her, and every stumble made the mask on my face grow heavier, as if it would weigh me down and drag me with it to the floor.
And then, the first question came.
A noble in a mask of rose-gold petals stepped forward, voice dripping with sickly sweetness. “What flaw do you hide from your lover?”
My foot almost caught. I didn’t ask who they meant, because in my heart of hearts, I knew. Tarran. Somehow, this entire room of people knew my relationship with Tarran had progressed past being more than just a guide and her sky girl.
The illusion lunged at my shoulder, and I backstepped, catching her wrist and spinning her away. She was never trying to hurt me but to keep me on my toes, keep me dancing so I didn’t have time to think about the answers too closely. I decided to do what my mask dictated: lie.
“My fear,” I said finally, my voice flat but clear as I focused on what was ahead. I’d already shown Tarran my fears, many times over, and she hadn’t even bat an eye.
A few nobles laughed, sharp and delighted. The King’s smile didn’t falter, and beside him, the unnamed escort leaned in to whisper something in his ear. Tarran’s eyes locked on me, unreadable as I met them for only the briefest of moments.
Another spin, another clash of palms. The illusion circled me like a predator.
Another masked courtier stepped forward, this one adorned with long, silver horns. “Do you believe you deserve her?” The question landed like a slap.
I stepped back, the illusion moving forward. Our hands caught, golden masks grinning between us.
“I don’t know what I deserve,” I said. My voice didn’t crack, not quite.
The music swelled. The circle tightened. The dance became a fight again, as elegant and breathless as it was. The mask on my face felt like it weighed a thousand pounds now, but it stayed on. My illusion grinned back at me, daring me to slip, daring me to falter.
Across the marble, Tarran stood frozen, her mismatched eyes burning holes right through me. When the next noble stepped forward, she didn’t look away. My dress clung to my back, damp with sweat.
The nobles closed in. Their masked faces blurred into a single, hungry thing, teeth hidden behind petals and finery. I could feel Tarran’s eyes on me, but I didn’t dare look at her, not now.
Another step, another question.
A courtier in a mask of blue glass stepped out, voice high and cruelly lilted. “Your guide wears many hats, does she not? Tell us, challenger—do you really know her?”
My heart stuttered. I didn’t, not really. There wasn’t much to learn when she was created by a book and couldn’t remember her past trials with the other sky girls. I only knew what I saw now.
The illusion lunged, and I caught her wrist, turning her aside with a snap. I wanted to look at Tarran so badly.
Who was she? The question made my chest hurt. She didn’t speak of the before because there was no before to remember for her.
I forced the words out past the tightness in my throat.
“Yes,” I lied. The illusion faltered, just for a heartbeat, her grin wavering.
Tarran’s stare was sharp in my back, even if I couldn’t meet it yet.
The other me circled again, slower this time, like she knew I was breaking.
My breath came shallow and quick behind the mask.
My own heartbeat sounded too loud, drowning out the music entirely.
The court was quiet now, a hush fallen over the crowd. I could feel the King’s gaze on me, heavy, and Tarran’s too, which was much, much worse. I hoped she understood I was lying, as my mask dictated. But a part of me also hoped she was reading between the lines. Hearing what I was not saying.
The next noble stepped forward, their mask carved of bone, pink florals decorating the edges. The voice inside it was warm, gentle, not as cruel as the others, and distinctly feminine.
“When you are free of this kingdom,” they said, words dripping like honey, “what will you do when your precious guide cannot follow you into the real world? What life will you make when you leave her behind to rot?”
The illusion’s hands brushed my shoulder, as if to steady me just before watching me fall. I felt my balance slip, heel skidding on the marble. I nearly went down.
No one breathed, not even the Carls. I caught a gflimpse of Carl-Two frozen like a statue by the pastry table, Carl-One’s sticky fingers hovering as another sweet was on its way to his mouth.
I saw Tarran then, as if in slow motion. The question burned in my brain. What life would I have? What life was there if she wasn’t real enough to exist? She felt real to me—very, very real.
But she wasn’t.
I swallowed the ache down like broken glass. Lies. The mask demanded lies. But for this, I couldn’t give one. Not here. Not now.
I grabbed the illusion’s wrist and forced it down, twisting her arm behind her back. I was done with all this stupid dancing, done with these idiotic trials, this story that only seemed to exist to drive me mad.
“I’ll remember her,” I said. My voice cracked, but I didn’t care. “I’ll keep writing her story on my own. I’ll make her real enough for the both of us.”
The illusion bucked against my hold, trying to break free, but I didn’t let her.
A ripple went through the ballroom, sharp as a gasp. The mask on my face felt suddenly light. The ties that held it loosened, my shadow twisting one last time before I spun her around, tearing the mask from her face.
There was nothing underneath, just light—soft, shimmering, dissolving like mist in the air.
The final note of the violin faded. Silence settled over the room, and then the King clapped, just once, the sound ringing too loud against the quiet room.
“Radiant indeed,” he said, that too-smooth voice wrapping around my spine. From beneath his robe, he pulled out a predictably rose-colored key, long and elegant. Without hesitation, I snatched it from his hand.
My eyes found Tarran in the crowd. She hadn’t moved, but something in her face had, something soft, wide open and hurting, a touch of madness in her gaze.
I’d blown the door wide open on whatever this was between us.