Chapter 9 Thessia #2
the dim glow emanating from the ornate chandelier. The music held the entire salon under a spell while crimson candles glowed
and Vestriya’s noble and notable danced.
Masks decorated every face. The rumors were no exaggeration. Metal and gemstone moved like skin, glimmering under the low
light, depicting the faces of monsters, animals, and other novelties. Thessia saw wolverlings dancing with plume-hens, fearsome
wraiths flirting with firebirds. Frills of lace and gaudy stripes of leather decorated bright gowns and dashing doublets.
The sight momentarily stole Thessia’s breath. This was what her mother had recounted in rapturous sighs.
It was stunning . . . and yet Thessia could not shake the memory of the ramshackle and dangerous alleyways she had just come
from. She wondered whether Vestriya’s people knew how much wealth and enchantment filled the palazzo. She suspected they did.
She spied Hugh dancing with Tabitha, who imitated Thessia perfectly. Her “spun gold” hair swished over her shoulder with every
whirling step of the dance. Her fashionist had chosen a masquerade mask in the visage of a lyricat, the svelte features of
the feline predator ornamented in glittering purple gems.
Pausing in the entryway, Thessia pressed her thumb to the gemstone on her bracelet.
She watched the identical gemstone on Tabitha’s necklace illuminate. She knew the pendant would hum, intensifying until it
was near Thessia’s.
Tabitha politely excused herself from Hugh’s embrace. Thessia meanwhile retraced her steps to the hallway and stole into the
first washroom she found.
Moments later, the door opened, revealing—herself.
“Your Highness,” Tabitha greeted Thessia in Thessia’s own voice. She curtsied, which Thessia found unnecessary, especially
in the small confines of the washroom.
“Love the mask,” Thessia replied. “It suits us.”
With the compliment, Tabitha dropped her supplicant demeanor. She broke into a smile. “Doesn’t it?” She removed the enchanted
metal from her—Thessia’s—face. “The masquerade is wondrous,” she gushed.
Thessia returned her smile. If she was honest, sometimes the other woman’s enthusiasm for royal goings-on could inspire excitement
for the parade of frivolities in Thessia herself. “It looks it,” Thessia said sincerely.
Tabitha reached for her gown’s fasteners.
Thessia reached for her own.
“I spoke with the king and queen on your behalf,” Tabitha reported. Her nose scrunched. “Figured you’d not enjoy that conversation.
Very dour, judgmental people with nothing interesting to say.”
Thessia grinned, shrugging out of her gown. Even more than she welcomed Tabitha’s zeal for the royal life, she rather enjoyed
the girl’s freely offered, wide-ranging commentary.
“Chatted with nobles from the East Vestriyan Isles,” Tabitha continued, passing the gem-stone mask to Thessia. “Oddly judgmental
on the subject of Prince Ezio. Said he was ‘too kingly’ or some such.”
Interesting. Thessia’s councilors had informed her that the crown prince was very popular in his homeland. “What of the other prince?”
she prompted. “Ario?”
Tabitha frowned. “Not here, I don’t think. So many nobles, so little time. Oh, and that handsome horseballer,” she went on,
blushing faintly. “Nevo Yrillis. He said he’s very excited to host Vestriya Now with you.”
At this, Thessia nearly dropped her mask onto the stone tile.
“What?”
With Thessia’s exclamation, Tabitha’s gaze flew up in surprise.
“Vestriya Now,” Tabitha repeated. “The . . . talent competition?”
“I know what it is,” Thessia replied.
Everyone knew what it was. Conjurated across Mythria and other realms, Vestriya Now assembled the very finest performers in every
art form and stunt imaginable, hosting them in the finest theater in Vestriya. When Mythrian musician Noah Noble had won,
Thessia had knighted him herself.
“I didn’t know I was hosting it,” she went on.
Did I? She racked her memory. Her royal schedule featured this masquerade, canal sightseeing, and dinners with nobles—which Tabitha
could handle—the Realm Chalice horseball cup, meetings with olivera farmers, and wine tasting in the rustic countryside . . .
Yes, Thessia was quite certain an obligation to host the realms’ preeminent talent revue would have lingered in her mind.
Tabitha’s mouth worked. “Nevo mentioned the enormous honor of the king and queen inviting you personally. I—I said you were
looking forward to it,” she got out.
Thessia knew her double felt guilty for the miscommunication. “It’s quite all right, Tabitha,” she replied gently. “I’ll . . .
have my councilors confirm my willingness to the royal family.”
Tabitha nodded, clearly relieved. Reoutfitted in Thessia’s nightclub clothes, she moved to the doorway, where she hesitated.
“For what it’s worth,” she said, “I think you’ll be a marvelous host.”
Thessia’s smile did not reach her eyes this time.
She returned to the grand salon, where the music continued and revelers followed the revolving steps of a Vestriyan dance
in a carousel of silk and laughter and motion.
As Thessia entered, Hugh moved from the wall to clasp her hands and sweep her into the dancing crowd. To every observer, the queen would seem simply to have returned from a moment’s intermission from the dance floor.
Effortlessly, Hugh led Thessia into the dance. Distracted, the queen let her husband’s footwork guide them. “Did you know
I was hosting Vestriya Now?” she asked.
Hugh cleared his throat sharply. “Hm,” he responded noncommittally.
He sounded—impatient. Angry, even? Thessia shot her eyes to her husband. His mask decorated his handsome features in the image
of a wild goat, which Thessia found inexplicably fitting.
“You’re upset,” she ventured.
Hugh grimaced under his mask. “You don’t have to sneak around behind my back, you know,” he said.
Thessia’s pulse quickened. “I wasn’t sneaking,” she insisted. “I was helping Galwell. There is a plot against his life, and
I wish to save him.”
Even saying the words in indignation, she found the declaration quietly thrilling. She was helping. Instead of just being helped.
Hugh swung them in the dance’s next steps, sending the dance floor whirling. “Of course. Of course you must save him. Galwell
is . . . here in Vestriya?” he clarified.
“He traveled with us on the Sapphire Palace,” Thessia confirmed.
While the music lilted on, Hugh contemplated this development.
“Thessia, my queen,” he said slowly, “I know we made our arrangement before Galwell returned. Now that he has . . . I think
the Queendom would fully understand if we were to announce an annulment.”
Thessia very nearly stumbled over her own feet.
“You . . . wish to annul our marriage?” she choked out.
“Don’t you?” Hugh inquired. “If my Zaralie came back to life, I’d want to be with her. I completely understand if . . . this marriage is no longer of interest to you. Given we never . . . consummated it, annulment should be simple enough.”
Thessia found her heart rate slowing. Hugh thought she still loved Galwell. Of course he did. Everyone did. He was merely
misunderstanding her, not rejecting her.
“Hugh, I . . .” She mustered her words, her composure. “It’s true that as a young girl I loved Galwell. But that was many
years ago. I’ve changed,” she said. “I’m . . . well, I hope very much I’m not the girl I used to be. I don’t love Galwell
now. That’s not why I want to save him. I want to save him because . . .”
Oh, how to say it? Thessia remembered how she felt in Mona’s club. She fought past every regal instinct for understatement and pleasantry and
spoke her heart.
“I . . . want to do something. I’m always watching heroes rescue the day for me,” she finished. “I want to be the hero this time.”
She found this oddly freeing—sharing her thoughts and feelings for maybe the first time ever. Her confessions continued to
pave their own road from her heart to her lips.
“And—and Galwell never loved me,” she said.
Hugh’s brow furrowed. “I’m sure that’s not—”
Thessia cut him off. “No, it is. I . . . No one has ever felt that way about me,” she admitted. “I’d know if they did.”
Hugh regarded her, recognizing her honesty. She’d spoken one of her very deepest secrets—one of Queendom’s deepest secrets—for
the first time.
She looked down, not wanting to meet Hugh’s eyes, scared of what she would find in them. Pity? She forbade it, by private
royal decree. She would not be the deprived queen once more. The woman who had everything—except magic, or love.
Then Hugh entwined his fingers with hers. His calloused caress was impossibly gentle.
“How can I help?” he murmured. “I may not be your lover, but I am your husband. Your goals are my goals. How can I help you
be the hero you’re certainly capable of being?”
Now Thessia looked up. She started to smile—
“May I cut in?”
The voice was velvet confidence. Thessia looked over her shoulder.
Even masked, Prince Ezio of Vestriya was unmistakable. Thessia remembered the young man’s shimmering white-gold hair from
their formal introduction during Thessia’s wedding.
Hugh hesitated but released Thessia into the prince’s deft embrace, where Thessia could closer examine her new partner.
His fine, effete handsomeness was nothing like Hugh’s. His mask depicted the Vestriyan starjay, the realm’s luminous emblem
bird. His irises were unmistakably golden in color.
“Pardon my interruption,” he said. “But I wouldn’t want the night to pass without stealing some moments with the jewel of
Mythria.”
“Is that what they call me—” Thessia started.
“Good prince,” someone interjected.
The dance offered guests the chance to converse when their paths momentarily crossed. Every guest, in Ezio’s case. Thessia could not get a word in edgewise with the constant chatter of eager, ever-changing company.
“Our gratitude for the marvelous portrait!” “Going to the Realm Chalice?” “Fine work restoring the Skyshade Canal!”