Chapter 6
I find myself in total darkness, unsure of place or time.
In the distance, a man appears, his outline indistinct.
The details solidify as he walks toward me: black clothes, black gloves, black boots.
He wears a cloak with its hood pulled low, and beneath it, a mask that covers his face up to the edge of his eyes.
The closer he gets, the harder my heart pounds, fear constricting my throat.
But my feet stay frozen. His steps are unhurried, each bootfall striking the ground with a thump.
I don’t move, even as he pulls out a knife.
I watch in terror as he touches the point to my chest long enough for me to feel the cold before he shoves the blade between my ribs.
I choke on my own scream as I wake up, gasping. I clap a hand over the place where the blade went in, expecting to see red spill through my fingers. There is nothing there, but I can still feel the burning pain.
The taste of blood sits on my tongue through breakfast. I have to set my fork down twice because my hands won’t stop shaking.
It felt so real.
The next night, I’m choked. The night after, stabbed in the back. Shot with an arrow. Held down and drowned. I don’t always see him before the blow, but night after night, one way or another, he shows up in my dreams and kills me.
It’s always the same figure: the same black clothes, the same mask, the same flat patience in his movements. And I wake every time with my chest squeezing so painfully I can’t tell whether the wounds are real or imagined.
This is the reason I fled the palace, the fear I’ve felt since my birthday given form. The voice that said run whispers new words in my ear: the masked man is coming to kill you.
Delvara is the goddess of prophecy and dreaming. Her power saturates this household, this province, the air I breathe while I sleep. Could living here be pulling loose something from my future? Could the hours I spend beside Elva, her violet eyes bright, be filtering prophecy into my dreams?
Even if I don’t understand the mechanism, I understand the message: no matter where I go or what I do, by knife or sword or arrow, this man is going to kill me.
I wanted a prophecy to get away from the palace, but the palace isn’t the problem. My father could send me to the far edge of the empire, and it would only buy time. Walls can be scaled, locks can be picked, and guards rotate. Even in a distant noble house, he’ll get to me eventually.
Now I need a prophecy more than ever. Aimless choices will end in death, but if I know exactly when he’ll arrive, I can plan for it. I can be ready.
Each night, I lie awake staring at the ceiling, fighting sleep. When I lose and my eyes drift shut, my rest ends abruptly with violence. My feet drag as I usher the children from meals to lessons to garden time, my sallow face inspiring delighted, high-pitched commentary.
Until finally, exhaustion overcomes my fear of repercussions, and I scour the mansion for Malda. I find her lecturing a footman near the kitchens. I hover at her elbow until she turns to me.
“Portia. Where are the children?” Her tone is tight, like there is no good answer.
“With a tutor. I need an audience with Lord Norville.”
“Not possible,” she says immediately.
“It’s important. I really need to speak with him.”
Her attention shifts to a boy approaching us, his arms sagging under a heavy bolt of fabric. “Don’t let that drag!” she snaps, then turns back to me. “Then what is it? This important thing you want to bring to the lord?”
I flush. If I tell her I want a prophecy, she’ll say no. “It’s about my employment here. It’s private.”
Malda stares at me a beat. “Do not bother him, Portia, under any circumstances. Somnus preparations have his full attention. Focus on your duties. Stay out of his way.”
She stomps after the boy with the trailing fabric.
I consider ignoring her and racing straight to Norville’s office.
But Somnus is so close. Every corridor hums with preparation, every servant carrying or building or polishing.
Taking risks that could get me fired will cost me my chance to be here when the hall fills with guests, including purple-eyed delvarians.
With drink and celebration and masks, and the surge in power that accompanies high holidays, I should be able to find someone willing to exchange a prophecy for gold. Or maybe a laugh. I am more than willing to beg.
If I fail on a stranger, at least I will still have a bed to return to that night. If I get fired, it’s the ferry.
Still, the days leading up to Somnus are agony, so I turn to the only option I have: Elva.
She’s so young, anything she can see would be too fuzzy to trust. I wouldn’t be able to use her words to enlist my father’s help.
But at least she might be able to convince my racing heart and itching feet it’s safe to stay here another week.
“Elva, can I ask you something?” I sit next to her as she builds a castle of colorful blocks. “Do you dream of me?”
She doesn’t take her eyes off the structure. “You’re here living with me. Why would I dream of you?”
I glance at the two older children to make sure they are occupied. “Could you do something for me, though?”
She nods, luminous purple eyes shifting off the blocks and onto mine.
“Can you try to picture me? Not right now, but sometime soon?” I don’t want to ask directly about the future. I can’t have word of a request like that making it back to Lord Norville or Malda.
She stares so long I wonder if she’s understood me.
“It’s not soon. But I can see you,” she says finally.
I lean forward. “What do you see?”
“It’s dark. You look strange.”
“Strange? Strange how?”
She folds her hands on her heart and closes her eyes. I wait for her to do something else, but her stillness sends creeping chills down my spine.
A knock startles me, and I jump.
The door swings open, revealing Malda. “Lord Norville has requested your presence, Portia.” She eyes me sternly. “I’ll watch the children. So go now.”
I recover myself and smooth my dress. “Yes. Right away.”
I want to believe what Elva just mimed was nothing. A five-year-old’s imagination, a silly answer to a strange question. But the unease in my chest coils tighter. It looked like she was imitating me with my arms crossed over my heart, dead.
I hurry to Norville’s office but hesitate at the open door. I have only curtsied and exchanged mumbled pleasantries with him since he hired me. I lock my knees as he looks up from his desk.
“Portia,” he says. “Come inside. How are the children?”
I step into the office, unsure if I should sit. “Very well. The children are wonderful.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t had much time for you.” He shakes his head. “I usually like to be more involved, but I’ve been busy with the preparations. How are your rooms?”
“Excellent.”
“The staff?”
“Everything is wonderful.” I make an effort to return his smile.
“Good, good. I wanted to make sure you are prepared for tomorrow night’s event. Somnus is an important evening for the family.” He points behind me. “You’ll attend the ball with the children and wear that.”
I turn to the armchair in the corner, where a folded garment sits.
At his nod, I unfold it, revealing a velvet version of the black uniform I usually wear, with a fuller skirt and thin lace trimming the edges of the three-quarter sleeves.
Paired with it is a simple black mask of the same material, also trimmed with lace.
A strange familiarity settles over me as I hold the dress—it’s a far cry, both in purpose and coverage, from the scrap of ivory silk I was told to wear on my birthday.
But at the same time…it’s not so different from what I’m used to.
Being told what to wear feels familiar. This deference feels familiar.
Becoming a servant takes more energy, but it hasn’t required as much adjustment as I would have thought.
It’s just a different role to play. A different set of rules to survive.
I curtsy. “Thank you, my lord.”
He nods. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
I step toward the door and hesitate.
“Is there a problem?” he asks.
I shouldn’t risk it. I’m so close to Somnus. I almost lose my nerve. Almost.
“I was wondering if…” My fingers curl into the fabric of the dress. “If you would be willing to read my future. For the holiday.”
“Ah.” His brows lift. His mouth curves up, before his expression smooths. “You’ve surprised me again. It’s a bold request.”
“I understand. I’m sorry. I can pay you…”
He raises a palm, quieting me. I wait as he considers. “But you are such a find, and my children seem to really enjoy you.” He locks eyes with me, the violet deeper than the day we met. “I suppose I could consider making a special exception.”
I squeeze the velvet. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
He waves his hand. “It’s not as much trouble close to the equinox. After the party, we’ll discuss it further.”
Someone knocks on the door. “My lord? If I can get your signature…”
“Ah yes. Bring it to me.” He shifts his attention to the newcomer, an attendant whose name I don’t know.
I take the cue and go, clutching the velvet to my chest.
I hang the dress off the frame of my door, smoothing the lace at the cuffs.
I hold up the mask, eyeless and waiting.
Somnus parties are always a bit looser, a bit more fun, the crowd emboldened by masks and the chaotic energy of the delvarians at the height of their powers.
But tomorrow is special. This equinox will bring me what I need.
Still, with Delvara’s high holiday tomorrow, the nightmares are worse than ever. I wake four times. Each time the masked man is closer, his gloved hands reaching for me, just as I open my eyes.
I give up and lie awake until dawn.