Chapter 11 A Masked Deception #5
The newly minted contract signed by Lord Dhastel of Windhaven Ranch sat on top of the pile: a hundred new horses—Hellions mixed with standardbreds—purchased for Firehelm Fortress.
It was a good price. The fortress’s stables were mostly empty, and they needed the stock for new recruits.
He flipped the contract over and continued to shuffle through the scattered papers.
He found birth records of three daughters: Celise, Katrina and Heather.
Pictures of the latter two were pinned to the front of a family’s summary, though the filmy black-and-white photos were hard to discern.
Elias squinted at them, then set them aside.
The rest of the folder’s contents weren’t very interesting.
Various business correspondence dated back several decades between the two families.
Mentions of a marriage to Ms. Marcella Bowren, a merchant’s daughter who was born Luminous, who managed to climb her way into the nobility.
More military contracts for Hellion stock, dating back to the beginning of the war.
“You said they only had two daughters present?” Elias asked.
“Yes, Heather and Katrina.”
He frowned again. “No third daughter?”
“None at the tower. I asked about it, but Lady Dhastel denied having a third daughter. It must be a mistake in the records, or perhaps she died.” Kiran gave him a searching glance. “Why?”
Elias spun the hairpin around in his fingers. “She knew a lot about Hellions.”
“Who did?”
“The girl.”
A glint entered Kiran’s eye. “Ah. I see. She liked your horse, did she?”
“Rather, Tempest liked her.”
Kiran was quiet, watching his old friend with a bemused smile hovering about his lips.
“What?” Elias snapped.
Kiran shrugged. “Nothing, I just think it’s very interesting how hard you’re trying to find this girl. No stone unturned. Has she done anything illegal?”
“No. Not exactly.”
“Been on your mind, has she?”
Elias nodded absently, once again scanning over the documents.
Kiran watched him with an infuriating smile on his face. “If you’re so interested in her, perhaps you should attend the ball tonight.”
“That won’t be possible,” Elias growled and slammed the file shut.
“I’m not concerned. She’s just a girl.” If he attended the ball that evening, it would only be to suss her out, but he didn’t plan to.
He turned to face his right-hand man, doing his best to hide the burning curiosity that absorbed his thoughts.
“Let’s discuss our strategy for this evening. ”
“Right. Your exit strategy.” Kiran mock-saluted him, grinning wide enough for his dimples to show. “Now the real mission begins. You know, your father will have our heads if he finds out. If I may remind you, he expects us at the ball together.”
“I’ll be there,” Elias emphasized. “You won’t be. You’ll be patrolling the grounds for any untimely threats. I think he’ll mind that a lot less.”
Kiran grinned even wider. “Oh, I do love a bit of mischief.”
Elias unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk and took out a wooden box. “Now, let me show you the mask.”
Kiran came to stand close by his side, leaning over his shoulder to take a look.
The enameled metal half-mask rested on a velvet cloth inside the box.
Its smooth surface was shined to perfection and glinted in the midmorning light from the window.
The black piece would cover Kiran’s nose to his hairline, and a black ribbon would fasten it in place behind his head.
Elias explained, “The shined piece was specially crafted by Meister Barbaros’s artificers in Gigas.”
“The same guild that designed the Starcaster?”
“The very same. I commissioned it privately, but I haven’t tested it yet. The mask should be a perfect disguise. We will become twins in all but height.” He gave Kiran a meaningful look. “You know my mannerisms well, which makes you the perfect choice for tonight’s deception.”
“Fascinating,” Kiran said with another catlike grin. “I can think of several uses for this.”
Elias’s mouth turned downward. “No shenanigans. I’ll be expecting the mask in my hands first thing in the morning.”
“How nice of you to loan it for the full night,” Kiran mused, turning the mask over in his hands. “I suppose I will be the man to choose your future bride. I’ll make sure she’s a decent dancer, at least.”
Elias ignored Kiran’s sarcasm. “Now, my father has already told me about the ladies he has lined up for me. Lady Marcella Dhastel wants me to dance with her daughter, Katrina. It’s part of the contract my father signed for the horses—I believe it’s the reason why Lord Dhastel gave us such a generous price. ”
“Ah, so the young lady is an admirer.” Kiran looked intrigued. “You know, she’s a gold medalist in fencing. I saw her yesterday—she’s good with a foil, and it seems she has strong mana control. She won the Teacup Tournament. Your mother, Estoria, was quite impressed.”
“I don’t care,” Elias cut him off. “My father arranged it, so dance with her first. That’s all I ask.”
“And if I think she’s a good fit for you?”
“Then propose.”
Kiran’s eyebrows shot up. He looked a bit uncertain for a moment. “This is your future wife, Elias. You should at least meet her before you have a stranger propose to her. Don’t you think this is all a bit . . . harsh?”
“How so?”
“Well, the lady will feel hurt if she ever found out—”
“No one will find out. I don’t care about wooing a bride, Kiran.
My work at Firehelm Fortress keeps me busy enough, and as my father said, my last seven fiancées are telling.
At this point, I will wed whomever I must to get this matter over with.
I shall perform my duty and produce an heir for Gravenmere, the king will be satisfied, and that’s that. ”
Kiran looked sad. He turned the mask over in his hands in silent contemplation. His somber thoughts, so unlike his usual self, weighed heavy on the room.
“Are you sure this is the right thing to do?” he asked softly. “Don’t you want someone to choose you, Elias? The real you? Don’t you want to fall in love?”
The Mad Dog stiffened. His right fist clenched beneath the desk. Choose him? The question summoned a seething mess of ill-tempered emotions within him.
In a low tone, he explained, “I haven’t danced since before the war, and I know nothing of courtship, Kiran.
It’s better for you to entertain my guests.
I would probably chase off the young ladies like some monster from the Abyss.
Besides, you know me better than anyone, and I know you will choose for me a suitable mate.
” With a self-deprecating tone, Elias added, “I wouldn’t know how to choose one for myself. ”
Kiran searched his commander’s eyes for a moment.
Then he perked up a bit. “You’re right. You would be utterly lost in a ballroom.
I will do my very best to find you a lady of strength and grace who will make a good mother for your children.
Someone beautiful and charming who can manage Gravenmere by your side. ”
“Thank you.”
The two brothers looked at each other. In that look, the memories of all the losses they had endured in the war seemed to pass between them, unspoken, more than words could ever say.
Then Kiran lifted the mask to his face.
The moment it touched his skin, a slight shimmer engulfed his body.
A spark of mana crackled in the air. Then Elias found himself staring at his own reflection.
He took half a step back, startled. His eyes swept over Kiran’s disguise.
He had commissioned the mask—he knew what it was supposed to do—but seeing it in action was a shock.
“So? How is it?” Kiran asked in Elias’s dark, raspy voice.
He looked around the room, then winced. “Right. You covered all the mirrors.” He swept a hand through a head of slick black hair.
Then he held up his arms and did a little one-two step, as though he were dancing at the ball. He spun around. “Well?”
Elias indicated his right hand, and Kiran lifted the shined appendage before his face. He flexed his gold fingers. “Ah. I see it doesn’t hide my prosthetic. I shall have to wear gloves, I suppose.”
“Besides that small detail, it’s a perfect disguise,” Elias mused. “You look exactly like the Mad Dog duke. We’re a few inches different in height, but only our mothers would notice that.”
“Your mother, maybe,” Kiran snarked.
“How does it feel?”
“The mask tingles a bit around my nose, but nothing I can’t tolerate for a few hours. You know, items like this are typically registered with the Committee of Deviant Artifacts. I bet Barbaros hasn’t filed any paperwork.”
“He didn’t mention it,” Elias hedged. “I might file something later. I don’t know.”
“Ah.” Kiran tapped his masked nose. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” Then, with a flourish, he removed the mask and slipped it into his coat. With a shimmer of light, Kiran returned to his blond-haired, brown-toned self. “Let the evening commence!”
“Indeed.” Elias turned back to his desk. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have a meeting in half an hour with Meister Barbaros that I need to prepare for. We still have to settle the matter of an unstable batch of Dust he’s trying to pawn off on us.”
“So you plan to work through your entire birthday?” Kiran grumbled. “If I didn’t know you so well, Elias, I would think you’re a right arse.”
“Polite society is no place for a Mad Dog. The name suits me well.”
Kiran glowered at him. Then he threw up an ironic salute. Elias saluted in return.
First Officer Kiran Kindale turned on his heel and left the room.
Alone in his office, Elias removed his gloves and stretched out his fingers, which were cramping.
Unsightly scars covered his palm where his sword had melted in the Daemon King's hellfire.
His right hand was a few shades darker than the left with a wider palm.
Was it strange, using a hand that once belonged to his best friend?
No stranger than being alive at all, he supposed.
So my father thinks I will have an engagement to announce by the end of the night, he thought with an ironic twist to his lips.
Kiran could make the announcement for him.
In the meantime, Elias would spend the evening patrolling the grounds and protecting the castle, as the commander of the Daemonguard was meant to do.
His mind traveled to the mysterious girl again.
She had emerged from the hedgerows of the garden onto the castle’s front drive, wearing only a cotton shift under the moon, her raspberry-colored hair a tousled mess. A small slip of a thing, she had struggled to walk in her long white chemise. He had never seen such a tiny woman.
Her eyes had whispered to him of a strange sadness.
He wondered if she would attend the dance.
He almost regretted his plan to skip the evening.