Chapter 12 Masks and Tonics
Chapter twelve
Masks and Tonics
Magic is unique to every person who experiences it. Certain smells, emotions, and sensations can appear for one and not another.
-Tales from Meridea, Volume III
Two hours later, Luci was nearly certain she was going to have to drag Ira out by his arms and explain to the king and queen why their eldest son was dying.
Oh, you see, we just trapped him in a carriage with the furriest cat alive. Before his eyes were swollen shut, he told us it was fine, though. Yes, I know he’s sneezed so much his voice is hoarse; that’s why I mentioned the part about him saying it was fine.
“Ira, I’m so sorry. I wish you had said something before we left.” Brielle said, her bottom lip puffed out.
“It’s fine,” he waved a hand.
At least, Luci thought that was what he said. In truth, it sounded more like a frog croaking than human speech.
“If chivalry means dying so your fiancée can have her cat, I fear for the state of our kingdom,” Luci muttered.
She only regretted the words a little bit, but if she didn’t get out of this carriage in the next five minutes, she was going to say much worse.
Calcifer was on edge, crawling over her shoulders to her lap, then behind her.
Every sneeze was a direct attack against him, and he was contemplating murdering the crown prince or being so afraid of his roars that he might pass out.
Then there was Brielle, who had woken up to the sneezing attacks and spent the last hour fawning over her prince and praising him for his generosity and thoughtfulness.
Prince Ira said something with a wide smile, but the fairy knew what it was. Luci groaned and looked outside, wondering if she and Calcifer might just walk the rest of the way. Her feet were saved by climbing blue and gold spires.
“Thank goodness.” She said, closing her eyes.
“Are you sure you won’t take one of Luci’s tonics? We don’t mind in the least.” Brielle said.
The feen of a prince shook his head and lifted Brielle’s gloved hand to his lips, pressing a ghost of a kiss to it.
If Luci spent much more time with them, she was liable to end up with her eyes rolling into the back of her head and staying there.
The moment the carriage ceased its journey, Luci jumped out before the attendants even made it to the door. Calcifer wiggled something fierce in her arms, making a guttural sound as he clawed up her shoulder.
“No, you are not escaping into the woods after almost murdering the crown prince, you beast,” she said.
Tightening her grip on him, she headed straight for the palace doors that were being opened for their prince. There were at least twenty guards, so Brielle would be fine. Once she got Calcifer inside somewhere, he couldn’t escape; she’d go back for it.
“Ma’am? I’m afraid I must ask you to wait here,” the guard in front of the twenty-foot wooden doors said.
“Apologies, but I cannot. Lucinda Blackthorn, servant to the prince’s fiancée. This is Calcifer, and if I do not get him into a room, he will, in fact, claw my eyes out,” she said as she passed, even managing a half curtsy for a show of goodwill. “Also, the prince needs a healer.”
Maybe she should have been more specific about the gravity of his illness since they all took off towards the carriage, shouting orders behind her.
Either way, it left Calcifer and Luci to find a safe space.
The halls were too big, but luckily, it was only recently that she traversed these halls once before.
Walking in plain shoes was much easier to navigate as opposed to the heels from only a few nights ago.
A few servants eyed her and whispered, but no one tried to stop her as she quickened her pace to near running.
Finally, a familiar white inlaid with gold door came into view just as Calcifer began to dig his claws into her neck.
Thank goodness for the gloves on her hands for protecting them, but her neck was vulnerable to his fury.
Throwing the door open, she ran in and threw her back against the door, slamming it shut. Calcifer leapt from her shoulder, hair standing on end as he ran and ducked under the same desk Prince Maximillian hid under during the ball.
Low growling sounds gave away his hiding spot.
“I don’t think your cat is happy.”
Luci jumped, her heart racing like a rabbit trying to outrun a fox.
“You're bleeding, did you know?”
Prince Maximillian Vencia.
He stood in front of one of the many stacks of books lining the walls.
In his hand was an open leather-bound book with yellow-stained pages that were probably ancient.
He looked like a miniature form of Prince Ira with his light brown hair, defined nose, and high cheekbones, but Luci supposed that was a requirement for being a Vencia.
The hazel eyes were different, though. They bespoke an awareness and wisdom that did not belong to a seven-year-old, prince or no. Precocious indeed.
“I’m bleeding?” Luci asked.
The raising of his eyebrows made her feel as though she were a very stupid woman. He nodded his head with a long-suffering sigh.
“On your neck and shoulder. Also, why are you dressed like that?” he asked.
The way he tilted his head was bird-like in nature, and Luci was positive he was puzzling her out. More concerning was that when she touched her neck and shoulders, a burning, stinging sort of pain ran through her, making her jump. Indeed, her fingers came away crimson.
“Calcifer was displeased with his carriage ride,” she said.
The pain was sharp as she pressed her fingers to the wounds, but she endured it, needing to staunch the bleeding.
“You’ll get it infected like that. Here,” Max said.
He set down the book and shrugged his way out of his navy and gold trimmed jacket and held it out to Luci. That felt like a misuse of fine clothes.
“It’s fine. If there was something on my hands, I’ve already introduced it to my body. I don’t want to ruin your coat, but thank you very much.”
It would seem Max inherited his chivalry from his older brother. How it skipped Lucien Vencia was a mystery.
“Suit yourself,” he said, sliding the jacket back on. “Though I think that is faulty logic. Either way, you haven’t said why you are dressed like that.”
Luci peered down at her simple brown dress laced with a deep brown corset. It was just as good as any dress. Why it should offend the little prince was also a mystery. So many mysteries in this family. If only there were enough time or energy to investigate them.
“It’s just a dress.” Luci shrugged, still holding her battle scars.
Max eyed her up and down like they were seeing very different things.
“You look like a servant,” he said. “Also, why is your hair black?”
Luci stilled.
This was quickly becoming the worst possible room she could have chosen to release Calcifer.
“I am a servant,” Luci said carefully. “And this is the color of my hair.”
A tilt of his head, and he could see her dissecting every inch of her, cataloguing each feature and sound into that strange mind. When he was through, he shook his head and retrieved the book he was holding.
“Well, when you were here the other night, you were dressed like a lady, and your hair was blond. Either way, that’s inconsequential.
I’ve gone through every text we have about the glass room, and no one has ever experienced what you did, though I was hoping you would repeat it so I might write it down.
It’s possible Ira breaking down the door was responsible for the glass breaking, very foolish of him, but regardless, I think it’s worth considering whatever you did inside was the reason. ”
He knew. Somehow, when not even Prince Ira could see through the disguise, a seven-year-old did.
Suddenly, the wounds on Luci’s neck didn’t feel quite so catastrophic, considering she was going to be beheaded because of a precocious seven-year-old.
Would Brielle be punished for going along with the lie?
Maybe she could plead that she didn’t want Prince Ira to look foolish by admitting the truth. It was a reasonable enough excuse.
“I’m not sure who you think I am, but my name is Lucinda Blackthorn. I’m a servant in the Treveon household.” Luci tried.
Max narrowed his eyes at her before going back to his book, uninterested in his hazel eyes.
“So you were pretending to be Brielle Treveon at the ball?” he asked.
Oh goodness above, she hoped the executioner’s blade was sharp.
There was no convincing him, which meant it was time to beg.
Stepping towards him, she lowered himself before him and peered up at him, hoping he understood the desperation screaming throughout her veins. Hand shaking, she pressed it harder into the claw marks, hoping the pain would center her from picturing the crowd that would gather for her execution.
“Max, you are a very smart kid, but I need your help. No one can know it was me that night. Not even your brother. My lady, Brielle, gets sick often. She was supposed to be here that night, but a fever took her, and she asked me to go in her stead so her father wouldn’t be disappointed in her.
I never meant to meet the Prince or you or go into that room.
I’ve created a mess, but Prince Ira proposed to Brielle, and she accepted, and they are happy.
I know it’s wrong, but please don’t tell him. ”
By the time Luci was finished, the words came out breathless and desperate.
But desperation was desperation, so she added, “I really don’t want to be beheaded.”
It was like being examined on a level that was inhuman.
His eyes scanned over her eyes, her face, her lips, her neck, her gloved hands, the dress she wore, each strand of her painted hair, and each rivulet of the braid it was tied into.
In all her life, even when she was forced to beg for food on Picadilly street, even when Lord Treveon made her feel two inches small, not even those moments made her feel as stripped and seen as this seven-year-old deciding her fate.
When he was through, he huffed out a breath and took his seat at the desk Calcifer was hiding under, though if Calcifer felt one way or another about it, he didn’t make a single sound. Hopefully, he didn’t die of stress. Oh, pumpkins, Brielle would be devastated.
“Um- your highness,” Luci began, but the little prince shot daggers at her. “Max, is my cat alive?”
Ducking his head under the desk, he disappeared for about ten seconds, during which time, Luci imagined Brielle sobbing as she broke the news to her that not only did Calcifer kill Prince Ira, but Calcifer died of stress.
“He’s alive, but he seems very angry,” he said.
His eyes widened a fraction, bouncing between Calcifer and Luci.
“You didn’t have him travel in the same carriage as Ira, did you?” he asked.
Luci groaned and leaned her head back to stare at the golden-domed ceiling. She was going to die.
“He forgot to mention he was allergic to cats,” she said, finally.
“Idiot,” Max said, though Luci wasn’t sure if the insult was meant for her or his brother. “How bad is it this time?”
Luci scrunched up her nose and debated telling the truth. After all, the little prince had yet to promise not to give her secret away. Truth, then,
“His eyes are swollen shut, and I have no idea what he’s trying to say,” she cringed.
Max shook his head and stood, walking right past her for the door. For a moment, Luci thought he might just leave her there, but he held the door open and waved to her.
“Come on, Lucinda Blackthorn, let’s go,” he said.
He used her real name. Was that a bad or a good thing? More concerning, why was she feeling a sense of relief that he recognized her, unlike Ira? All that should have been there was dread, but a small piece of her settled into the knowledge like a comfy chair.
Deciding it was best not to try his patience, Luci followed behind him.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“To go see Ira, of course,” Max said.
Oh, excellent.