Chapter 2
SENNA
The city glows like something stolen from the stars.
I stand at the edge of the festival, fingers curled tight around the threadbare shawl draped over my shoulders—Mira insisted I bring it, said the nights turn cold in New Solas even in spring.
The dress beneath feels foreign against my skin.
Silver-blue silk that catches the light with every breath, the bodice fitted enough to make me conscious of my ribs, my waist, the way the skirt flows around my legs like water.
Mira stuffed into my bag this morning, ignoring my protests that I had nothing worth celebrating, no reason to wear something so beautiful.
"You have every reason," she'd said, her honey-brown eyes fierce as she adjusted the neckline. "One night, Senna. That's all I'm asking. One night where you get to be someone else. Someone you deserve to be."
She'd known how bad I wanted to go into the city, and it was so rare that I wasn't watched, that Darian left our tiny village. I had the opportunity on the best night of the year.
Because there's a festival tonight.
The mask sits light on my face, silver petals layered over each other in delicate spirals that cover everything from my brows to my cheekbones.
It makes me feel hidden. Protected. Like I can step into this glittering chaos and no one will know the girl underneath—the one with bruises she hides beneath long sleeves, the one who flinches at raised voices and keeps her eyes down when her husband enters a room.
Not tonight.
Tonight, I'm just another masked face in the crowd.
The square stretches before me, transformed into something out of the stories my mother used to tell before she died.
Red lanterns hang from every surface, their glow warm and pulsing like heartbeats.
Silk drapes billow in the breeze, deep crimson and gold that shifts with the movement of bodies beneath.
The scent hits me all at once—incense thick and sweet, roasted meat, pastries glazed with sugar, wine that smells like summer fruit left too long in the sun.
Magic hums in the air. I can feel it prickling against my skin, raising the fine hairs on my arms. It's nothing like the faint traces back home, the occasional charm-worker selling luck tokens at the village market.
This is different. Deliberate. Woven into every breath, every flicker of lantern light.
The Nashai move through the crowd in their white robes, trailing censers that release more of that perfumed smoke. Their faces are serene, almost otherworldly, and I wonder if they can sense the magic they've cast or if it's simply second nature to them now.
I take a step forward, then another. My heart pounds against my ribs, a wild thing trying to escape.
What am I doing here? A human. Alone. In a city that tolerates my kind but doesn't exactly welcome us with open arms. The xaphan are beautiful and powerful and everything I'm not, and I'm about to walk into their festival wearing borrowed finery and hoping no one notices how out of place I am.
But I couldn't stay away.
Not after Mira told me about the Moon Masquerade, her eyes sparkling as we stood alone in the stable where her zarryn is kept.
She described the lanterns, the music, the way the entire city transforms for one night into something magical and free.
And I'd listened, imagining what it would feel like to be part of something like that.
To exist somewhere other than the small, suffocating world Darian has built around me.
He left yesterday morning. A rare trip west to pick up materials for the shop—leather, I think, or maybe metal fittings. I don't care. All that matters is he won't be back until tomorrow afternoon, and for the first time in months, I can breathe without waiting for his hand to strike.
Mira saw the opportunity before I did.
"Go," she'd said, pressing the packed away dress into my arms. "Take my zarryn. Just go, Senna. You deserve one night where you're not his."
I'd argued. Of course I had. What if someone saw me? What if he found out? What if—
"What if you spend your entire life afraid?" She'd cut me off, her voice sharp enough to slice through my panic. "What if you never take a single risk, never do a single thing for yourself, and wake up one day realizing you've disappeared completely?"
So here I am. A full day's ride on Mira's temperamental zarryn, Ash, my thighs aching and my back sore, wearing a dress that I never should have touched and a mask that makes me feel like someone worth looking at.
The crowd shifts, and a gap opens in the sea of bodies.
I see fire dancers at the center of the square, their movements fluid and hypnotic as flames arc through the air in spirals.
The heat reaches me even from here, a phantom warmth that makes my pulse quicken.
Above them, lanterns float without tether, drifting lazy circles against the darkening sky.
Magic. Real, tangible magic.
I've never seen anything like it.
A server approaches, a young xaphan woman with wings the color of spring leaves and eyes that shimmer gold.
She carries a tray laden with crystal glasses filled with sparkling wine and small pastries dusted with sugar.
She smiles at me—actually smiles, warm and genuine—and offers the tray without hesitation.
"Welcome," she says, her voice lilting and kind.
I stare at her, momentarily frozen. She's not looking at my lack of wings. Not curling her lip in disgust or dismissing me as beneath her notice. She's just… welcoming me.
"Thank you." The words come out quieter than I intend, but I manage to take a glass and one of the pastries. Berry filling, from the smell of it. My fingers tremble slightly as I cradle them both.
The server moves on, her wings catching the lantern light, and I'm left standing there holding proof that I'm actually here. That this is real.
I bring the pastry to my lips and bite down. Sweetness explodes across my tongue—tart berries and buttery crust and sugar that melts against the roof of my mouth. It's the best thing I've tasted in years. Maybe ever. I close my eyes, savoring it, letting the flavor drown out everything else.
For one night, I'm not the girl who married a man she hates because her uncle needed the bride price. I'm not the woman who scrubs floors until her knees bleed and bites back screams when Darian's temper flares. I'm not property.
I'm just… here.
The wine is next. I sip it cautiously, expecting bitterness, but it's sweet and fizzy, bubbles tickling my throat as I swallow. Warmth spreads through my chest, loosening the knot of anxiety that's lived there so long I forget what it feels like to breathe without it.
The music shifts, a melody that tugs at something deep in my chest. Strings and drums, layered with voices that rise and fall like waves.
I drift toward it, drawn by the sound and the movement of bodies swaying in time.
Couples dance together, their masks glinting in the lantern light—feathers and jewels, silk and leather, each one more elaborate than the last.
No one looks at me. Or if they do, it's only in passing, their gazes sliding away without interest or judgment. I'm invisible here, just another masked figure in a crowd of hundreds. And for the first time in so long, that feels like freedom.
I finish the pastry and take another sip of wine, letting the warmth settle deeper.
My feet carry me further into the square, past tables laden with food I've never seen before—roasted tuskram glazed with honey, platters of brimbark drizzled in cream, bowls of glazed fruit that shine like gemstones.
My stomach growls, a sharp reminder that I skipped dinner in my rush to reach the city before nightfall.
But I don't stop to eat. Not yet. I want to see everything first, to soak in every detail before the night ends and I have to return to the life waiting for me in that small, cold house.
A Nashai passes close, her white robes brushing against my skirt. She smells like herbs and something earthier, richer. Her eyes meet mine through the mask, and for a heartbeat, I think she can see right through me. See the bruises hidden beneath silk, the fear I carry like a second skin.
But she only smiles, a small, knowing curve of her lips, and murmurs, "May Solas guide your heart tonight."
Then she's gone, swallowed by the crowd, and I'm left standing there with her blessing hanging in the air like incense.
My heart pounds harder. Faster. I don't believe in fate or soulmates or any of the things the Nashai preach. How could I, when my marriage was bought and paid for like livestock at market? But standing here, surrounded by magic and music and light, I want to believe. Just for tonight.
I want to believe that somewhere in this chaos, something good might find me.
The fire dancers spin, flames trailing behind them in arcs of gold and orange. The floating lanterns drift lower, close enough that I could reach up and touch one if I tried. The crowd pulses around me, alive and electric, and I let myself be swept along with it.
One night.
That's all I have. One stolen night where I'm not Senna Arien, bought wife and punching bag. Where I'm just a girl in a silver mask, drinking spelled wine and tasting freedom for the first time in years.
It has to be enough.
It has to be worth the risk of what happens if Darian ever finds out.
I drain the rest of my wine, the sweetness clinging to my lips, and step deeper into the heart of the festival. The incense wraps around me like a second skin, the music thrums in my bones, and for the first time since I can remember, I feel something other than fear.
I feel alive.
The music swells, and I'm moving toward the dancers when a hand catches my elbow.