Page 21 of Revert
I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off, his gaze sharp, each word edged with quiet warning. “You should be more careful what you ask. Not all questions earn answers…and sometimes the cost of the answer is higher than its worth.”And with that, he turned and walked away, his guards falling into place behind him, leaving me with more mysteries than when I’d begun.
I lingered in the corridor long after him long after he had departed, my thoughts circling as I pondered the unspoken meaning behind his words. Only when the cold from the stone walls permeated my clothes did I finally make my way back to my chambers, steps slow, mind heavy.
As soon as the footmen opened the door, Liora rushed to meet me, breathless. “We must hurry, my lady! The ball begins in an hour; there’s little time to prepare.”
With the terror of my interview with the king, I had completely forgotten that tonight the court hosted a masquerade. I would be expected to interact with diplomats,courtiers, and royals while keeping alert and conducting a secret mission of my own…all under the prince’s watchful eye.
I drew in a slow, steadying breath and gave Liora a small nod. “I’ll wear the crimson gown.”
My fingers trembled as Liora fastened the last hooks of the gown, the lacy fabric heavy against my skin.The crimson gown. It should have been a symbol of elegance and power, a dress that accompanied me with a delightful swish as I moved gracefully across the dance floor with my future husband. Instead, it wrapped around me like a noose, stealing my breath.
This was the color I’d worn the night I died—the shade that had splattered across the rough dungeon’s stone floors when Castiel’s blade found its mark. I caught my reflection in the glass—a woman adorned for diplomacy, but all I could see was a victim prepared for slaughter. The memory clung to the fabric, invisible but suffocating, and for a heartbeat, dread coiled tight around my heart.
I straightened with a defiant lift of my chin. If the crimson had once marked the end of my story, tonight it would become the color of my resolve. I would wear it like a banner to remind myself that I was still an opponent in this dangerous game. As Liora tied a silver lace mask over my eyes, I held my head high.
The prince had warned me to play my role, and I would do just that…even if my role wasn’t the one he expected.
The masquerade wasa masterpiece of shadow and splendor.
Gleaming chandeliers floated above like captured constellations, their pale light flickering across marble floors polished to a mirror sheen. Dark velvet banners embroidered with the sigils of Thorndale’s ancient houses draped thetowering columns, while masked courtiers swept through the hall in a whirl of silk, murmured pleasantries, and muted laughter. The air was thick with candle smoke, perfume, and the undercurrent of secrets.
The dim lighting added to the tone of mystery, both making it easier for me to carry out my own espionage while challenging to find what I was looking for. Mine was doubtless not the only secret exchange scheduled for tonight; all around me I heard hushed tones and words that could have been carefully arranged codes.
Masquerades were the only balls held in Thorndale. Even without the masks concealing our identities, we all hid behind façades beneath the heavy scrutiny of watching eyes—masks of composure, of ease, of practiced charm. Every word was measured, every glance a risk. In a court like this, you never knew whose ear you bent…or whose dagger you invited simply by catching the wrong eye or wording a greeting incorrectly.
Being the prince’s betrothed didn’t exempt me from this dark political game—if anything, it made me a more glittering target.
I stood rigidly at Prince Castiel’s side, the ornamented fiancée who was more symbol of alliance than foreign princess. Ever since my entrance, his gaze had skimmed over me once, pausing just a heartbeat too long on the crimson silk before sliding smoothly away. For a fleeting second, I imagined a flicker of something in his eyes when they touched the crimson lace, and though his expression remained composed, his hand at his side tightened imperceptibly. For a moment, the air between us felt tighter, heavier, though I told myself it was only my imagination.
My delicate silver mask cool against my skin, my smile a careful lie shaped to fit the demands of the night as I did my best to follow the courtly script expected of me. Every gaze seemedto press upon me—measuring, judging, waiting for me to make a mistake.
My hold on the prince’s arm was as light as I dared make it, fingers barely brushing the fabric as we made our rounds through the sea of vipers dressed in silk and false smiles. For once, his presence was a welcome shield, something solid to anchor me against the currents of court.
As his fiancée, I earned a measure of respect—but it was tentative and highly conditional, offered more out of duty than loyalty, as if each gesture was given as a test for the king’s current favor…and their uncertainty if I would last long enough to become queen.
History offered them plenty of reasons to doubt. While Prince Castiel had only ever had one betrothed, the current king and the monarch before him had cycled through multiple potential consorts, discarding them like broken chess pieces when they outlived their usefulness; a royal title did not make one less expendable.
We had scarcely spoken since that charged moment following the king’s interrogation, nor had he offered me any explanation for the way his demeanor had shifted during the king’s interrogation. To the outside observer, His Highness played his role as flawlessly as ever. And yet, something seemed different tonight.
His touch tightened slightly, almost imperceptibly, when certain courtiers approached. A faint step closer, as if shielding me without ever appearing to do so. Though his silence remained unchanged, his watchfulness had sharpened, a taut thread between us.
I barely registered his nearness, because I was searching.
The music swelled, a tapestry of strings and harps threading through the air in fragile strands, as if the wrong breath might break them. Laughter rippled along the circumference of thehall, but I barely heard it over the pounding of my own pulse. My eyes flicked past jeweled masks, lingering briefly on figures at the edge of the crowd—a flicker of recognition, a half-turned glance—before moving on.
I was too focused on my own dangerous task to force small talk with my unwanted escort, too wary to risk a careless word that might delay what I had come here to do. Somewhere in this hall, hidden in plain sight, a contact waited—a thread in the quiet, trembling web of resistance I was part of…and they would not linger forever.
A glimmer in the mirrored column caught my eye as we passed—a fleeting glimpse of a stranger I barely recognized. Golden hair elegantly arranged, pale skin, a flash of green eyes behind the mask, a gown of crimson lace—a woman wrapped not in the poise of the spy I pretended to be, but in barely concealed duty and fear. For beneath the shimmering façade, something darker stirred.
Keep your smile, watch for the signal, do not fail.
Prince Castiel unexpectedly leaned closer, his breath brushing my temple, warm against my skin. “You would do well to pay attention to your enemies, lest you miss what they might be plotting.”
His proximity and murmured words momentarily distracted me from my scattered search, snapping my thoughts from their duty. For a heartbeat, the sudden nearness pulled me back to the strange intimacy we’d shared one more than once occasion lately—when the mask between us had slipped, just for a breath. A tremor caught in my chest, but I forced myself to remain still.
“Warnings are less effective when spoken in riddles.” But the puzzle was nothing to my bewilderment that he saw fit to offer one at all.
“Vagueness offers some protection to those who might be listening.” He subtly motioned towards a man who had justdeparted with a lavish bow from a conversation my wandering thoughts had caused me to entirely miss. His voice dropped to a nearly inaudible level, and his lips remained motionless as he spoke.
