The Order of Masks

Chapter Forty-Three

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Scarlett

Aric was a familiar presence at my side as I descended from the battlements. He had been serving on my security detail these past weeks, and I’d come to like him. He had an admirable strength to his personality, a fierce resolve that drove him like it did me.

And he was loyal. I could respect that.

I hadn’t forgotten the way he’d stepped in front of Mira in the arena. He had been willing to fight for her – and die for her – without a second’s hesitation. That kind of devotion was as rare as it was valuable.

When the Order residences came into view, Aric spoke for the first time. ‘Your mother seems . . . intense.’

‘That’s an understatement.’

Aric glanced sideways at me. ‘If you ever want someone to talk to . . .’

‘I appreciate that.’ Before he could say something else, I asked, ‘How is Lillian?’

His expression brightened. Requesting Lillian’s presence at court had been just another way of earning Aric and Mira’s trust. But she meant so much to Aric that it was difficult not to take an interest.

‘She’s enjoying her new position in the palace.’ Aric’s voice was warm and open. ‘It means a lot to me that you invited her here, and that you assigned her to Mira. I still feel like I should do something to thank you.’

My lips curved into the gentle smile I reserved for Aric. ‘There’s really no need.’

It was obvious Aric disagreed, but he didn’t press the matter. He was careful to keep a professional distance during our public interactions, though the boundaries between friendship and duty were becoming somewhat blurred, thanks to the hours we spent swapping stories about Kain.

Though my carefully chosen recollections were false, Aric was hungry for every detail. I could probably win Mira over through Aric, but I hadn’t cultivated him for that purpose. He was a weapon – and at the right time, I would tell him what I knew about Kain’s death and use him against Roran.

But not until then. If Zandri had taught me anything, it was the importance of timing.

Crossing through the training barracks, I searched for Mira amongst the sparring Warriors. It didn’t take long to find her; she was striding back towards the ring of onlookers, having disarmed her previous opponent.

‘It looks like you need another partner,’ I called, ignoring Aric’s surprised glance.

Mira’s ponytail whipped through the air as she turned. Her dark eyes narrowed as they fell on me; there was power in that single glance, a fire that warmed even my icy skin.

‘If you can keep up,’ she challenged.

‘Let’s see, shall we?’

Though my words were even, I knew she would see the steeliness in my posture – and that steeliness would appeal to her competitive spirit.

It did. Mira crossed into the sparring circle, ignoring the gathering spectators. It was rare for a royal to fight publicly, against anyone except the captain of the guard, and several Warriors paused their own matches to watch.

‘Good luck, Your Highness,’ Aric said, handing over his sword.

I took it and strode over to where Mira was waiting.

For a moment, we sized each other up. Then she leapt at me in a blur of motion.

I countered instinctively, blocking her sword and breaking away. But Mira didn’t give me space to circle and formulate a strategy. She twirled around me like a dancer rather than a Warrior, impressively fast.

Teeth gritted with effort, I searched for an opening. But while my technique was better than Mira’s, she was a worthy adversary, forcing me to concede step after step. I pushed back – and yet, no matter how forceful my attacks were, how creative or even unpredictable, she anticipated my every move.

Time became meaningless as we exchanged blows, my focus narrowing to our two blades. We were evenly matched, but I couldn’t compete with Mira’s endurance. I wouldn’t be able to keep this up much longer.

There was another distant clap of thunder. The clouds released their rain in a warm, drenching torrent.

Whirling to the side, I impatiently slashed at Mira. It was a clumsy attack that she lithely avoided, teeth flashing in a fierce grin. As if she’d been waiting for this, Mira twisted—

And brought her sword up to my throat.

The instant the metal touched my skin, I went still. If this was a real battle, Mira could end my life right here and now. We stared into each other’s eyes, neither of us blinking despite the moisture running down our faces.

Then Mira released me. As she did, I became aware of our clapping audience.

‘Good match,’ I said, inclining my head in respect.

Mira hesitated but returned the action. ‘Good match,’ she agreed. ‘You fight well with a sword. How come I never see you sparring with the Warriors?’

‘I don’t like to advertise what I can do. I prefer my enemies to underestimate me.’

Mira’s surprise was obvious. ‘Enemies?’

I half-smiled. ‘You’d think monarchs have so many children to ensure succession, but I think it’s because they enjoy the entertainment of pitting us against each other. The sport of it.’

Mira cast me a wary glance. ‘Surely your brothers wouldn’t dare—’

‘Wouldn’t dare what, exactly?’ I looked at her, all humour wiped from my face. ‘Protect their claim to the throne by killing me?’

I could see Mira riddling this out, trying to determine whether there were any lines that the princes – or perhaps one prince in particular – wouldn’t cross. There was something conflicted about her expression, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Even with Mira’s hatred of the Ravalian Court, Cassius had still managed to charm her.

‘Be careful with my brother,’ I warned. ‘He makes all kinds of promises, but he doesn’t always honour them.’

I was still smiling as I turned and walked away, the image of Mira’s doubt branded into my mind.

Let her think about that.

Hours later, I found myself pacing the onyx chamber below the Order of Masks atrium. My reflection prowled around me, displayed in the dozens of mirrors encircling the space.

For once, I looked more like Zandri than my father. The black fighting leathers she’d provided even had a feather mantle like her own. I supposed we were about to find out if I really was my mother’s daughter.

I’d spent the past fifteen minutes sharpening my blades and practising with the magic Zandri had given me. With one touch, I had disintegrated an entire pile of papers, and I could only imagine what would happen if I focused that magic on a body. Bodies , I corrected myself. By the end of tonight, I would be responsible for multiple bodies.

Footsteps rang out as Mira descended the metal staircase. Zandri must have told her what to wear, because she was dressed to blend in with the clientele at Evander Seneca’s favourite tavern – though the proud set of her shoulders was sure to set her apart.

‘You hold yourself too much like a Warrior,’ I told her. ‘You walk like it, too. Most ladies take smaller steps. They’re more focused on grace than efficiency.’

‘I prefer efficiency.’

‘I said the same thing once.’ A smile tugged at my lips. ‘To my etiquette teacher. It didn’t go down very well.’

‘You have to study etiquette?’ Mira eyed me curiously. ‘What other lessons do you have?’

‘Less than you might think,’ I replied, trying to conceal my bitterness. ‘I used to have tutoring sessions in history and battle strategy. But after my engagement was announced, my father cancelled them all. Except etiquette.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Mira said softly, and I remembered that she was technically a princess too – though our experiences were so different.

I forced a smile, irritated by how much I had given away. ‘It’s fine. At least I still have my duties in the Order of Masks.’

‘Do you often go on missions?’ Mira asked as she paced the hall.

‘It’s rare,’ I admitted, trying to keep my tone light. ‘I suppose it has something to do with being the princess. But this mission should be simple enough. A quick interrogation – nothing more.’

Mira stiffened. It was an almost imperceptible change, but it told me enough about her true feelings. ‘Who’s the target?’

‘His name is Evander Seneca. Zandri suspects that he’s connected with the rebels in the Lower Districts.’ I watched Mira closely, but her expression was unreadable. Offhandedly, I added, ‘I believe you’ve had some interaction with them before?’

‘You could say that.’

Her tone didn’t welcome further questions, and I decided against pushing her. I would find out what I wanted to know by observing Mira during the mission.

‘My mother,’ I continued as if I hadn’t noticed her mood shift, ‘wants you to gain access to Seneca Manor. How you do this is up to you, but Evander Seneca has a weakness for young women – and I know the tavern he will be at tonight.’

Mira glanced pointedly at the dress she wore, complete with delicate, high-heeled sandals that wound up her toned legs. ‘It seems I can make that work,’ she said, deadpan.

‘Good.’ I smiled, amused despite myself. ‘He also has a weakness for blondes.’

‘Is that your way of asking me to dye my hair?’

‘Nothing so mundane. I assume Zandri channelled magic to you from your blood ruby?’

‘Yes, but she didn’t show me how to use it.’ Mira’s tone was cautious. ‘What will I be able to do this time?’

Rather than answering with words, I moved in front of one of the full-length mirrors. I kept my attention on my reflection as I visualised the illusion, willing my hair to lighten to white-blonde and my icy eyes to warm to amber. It was easier than normal, probably because I had been staring at Odessa’s mother all afternoon.

When my face was heart-shaped, and my mouth full and mocking, Mira came to stand at my shoulder, her eyes wide. I held the illusion for another minute, then allowed it to waver and distort, until the mirror no longer reflected Odessa’s features – but my own.

‘Consider this your first lesson,’ I said. ‘I can talk about infiltration all I like, but it’s far more educational seeing this kind of magic in person. Don’t you agree?’

Mira tilted her head, still studying my face. ‘It was very convincing.’

‘The best illusions always are.’ Amusement entered my voice as I continued, ‘It helps if you know the person you want to imitate. If you don’t, it takes more time and effort to craft an illusion. But that’s what the mirrors are for – so you can practise.’

‘Then the other Masks – they have this ability too?’

‘Most have an aptitude for illusion, but few can do what I can,’ I said, skirting around the truth: that illusion was magic I had been born with, and not magic I had to channel from a blood ruby.

Mira’s eyes narrowed in concentration. At first, nothing happened. Then a strand of her hair lightened – from black to a light chestnut.

I resisted the urge to laugh, knowing that she had been going for blonde. ‘It’s a start,’ I said, feeling inclined to be generous.

‘We have to leave for the tavern in an hour.’ Tension was obvious in Mira’s voice – and so was determination. ‘Do you think I can learn how to master illusion by then?’

‘I doubt it,’ I said. ‘Mastering any kind of magic takes a great deal of practice. Though I wouldn’t worry too much. For this mission, all you need to do is change your features slightly.’

‘How do you do it?’ Mira asked, glancing over her shoulder at me.

It had been a long time since I’d thought about that – probably since my childhood lessons with Zandri. ‘For me,’ I answered, ‘it isn’t just about the illusion itself. It’s important to visualise what you want others to see; the visual has to feel real to you , otherwise it won’t convince anyone else.’ I considered for a moment, then said, ‘You have to shape your character, to give them motivations, backstories, likes and dislikes. Only then can you truly become them.’

Fleetingly, I thought of Sabine. I had never known the Artisan candidate, but Sabine felt like a real person to me – a distinct character, yet shaped by aspects of myself. The kind of person I would like to be if I had a choice.

Mira looked at me oddly, and I remembered that I had once given her similar advice – before the third Trial.

When I was Sabine .

It was too easy to let everything blur together, and I cursed myself for my carelessness. But Mira seemed to shake off the thought as I said, ‘Here. Let me help you.’

It was strange to watch Mira’s dark hair lighten. Even stranger to realise it was a combination of what Mira and I had imagined – blonde through the ends, and a light brown through the roots.

I focused again. When I was done, Mira was completely blonde—

And I could no longer stop myself from laughing.

Mira stared at her reflection. ‘It looks . . .’

‘Blonde really isn’t your colour,’ I agreed. ‘It might be best if you keep to the dimmest parts of the tavern tonight. And if you wait until Evander has a few drinks before making your move.’

Mira glowered at me, but a smile tugged at her lips. ‘Thanks for the support.’

‘You’re very welcome.’ I reached for some hairpins I’d stored in a hidden sheath. Then I helped coil Mira’s hair on top of her head, like Aella sometimes did for me. ‘There,’ I said stepping back to survey the result. ‘I think that’s as good as it’s going to get.’

For a moment, we stood next to each other facing the mirror. It occurred to me that if we had grown up together, we might have shared many similar moments. There had been a time when I had desperately wanted a sister. I wondered how different things might have been if Mira and I could have filled that role for each other.

But my misguided warmth drained away as I thought of other things. Mira’s wariness as she looked at me. The way she had dismissed my offer of alliance even when it had come from Sabine.

Mira turned away from the mirror, but then she paused. ‘Thank you,’ she said with a hint of vulnerability.

‘Just try not to die,’ I replied, with some of Sabine’s sassiness. ‘Or fail,’ I added, lightening my voice so she would understand I wasn’t entirely serious. ‘That would be even worse.’

Mira nodded and strode towards the stairs. I waited a few seconds before following, trying to put some distance between us.

It was too easy to get close. To become so caught up in our interactions that I forgot I was playing a role at all. But Mira had made her choice – Cassius over Sabine.

And I had made mine. To win – no matter who I had to sacrifice in the process.

But as I left the onyx hall behind, there was the slightest twinge in my chest. A dull ache that felt an awful lot like regret.

In another life, Mira and I could have been friends.