Page 25 of Revert
The words sent a jolt of surprise through me. For a heartbeat, my mask faltered. He noticed my confusion and exhaled slowly, smoothly pivoting us through the swirl of dancers.
“Not yet,” he murmured. “There are too many eyes on you…onus.”
Frustration prickled hot under my skin, sharp and rising…but then he leaned in again, his voice as quiet and soft as a secret. Almost imperceptibly, his grip loosened, and for the first time tonight, he let me go. “On my lead.”
We moved through the crowd of masked figures, his steps deliberate but with an effortless subtlety. Ever so slowly, we approached the terrace. As we passed the doors, his grip tightened once, a quiet signal that steered me with practiced ease, the perfect escort for a woman seeking a breath of cool night air. The guards at the edge of the ballroom offered slight bows but made no move to stop us, and none followed.
Only when we stepped into the darkness beyond did he release me. His eyes flicked sharply to mine. “Five minutes. No more. I’ll cover your absence.”
My breath caught—not just at the words, but at the fact that he was helping me.Why?I couldn’t even begin to fathom the potential reason. My mind filled in the missing details, none of the imagined outcomes even remotely plausible.
Before I could even question his motives, his gloved hand brushed mine once, light as a whisper. Then he turned, slipping back into the golden whirl of music and masks, his figure swallowed by the court before I could read the expression he left behind.
My rebellious thoughts threatened to linger on him, but I had a purpose—the one I’d awaited ever since finding myself thrown back into the past. I hesitated a moment, considering whether this entire evening had been a clever trap, tricking me into trusting him and inadvertently revealing my contact. But I couldn’t afford to miss this meeting when so much rested on it.
The terrace air was cool against my flushed skin, the muted hum of the masquerade fading into a distant echo. My gloved fingers tightened on the balustrade as I counted the seconds…until a soft footfall at my side penetrated the stillness.
“I was told you were clever. But reckless? That’s new.” Uncharacteristic amusement threaded the low murmur, voice carefully modulated to disguise it. Try as I might, I couldn’t even tell whether my contact was male or female, let alone any other identifying characteristics.
My heart thudded hard in my chest as I turned slightly. The fox-masked figure leaned casually against the marble a careful distance from me, no more than a guest enjoying the night air to any watching eyes. But beneath the careless pose I felt the sharpness in the words, the honed edge of someone who had long learned to walk dangerous lines.
It was an effort to keep my trembling voice steady. “I had no choice. The information I’ve been awaiting is imperative, and you’re late.”
My contact’s mask couldn’t conceal their eyebrow visibly lifting in surprise. “Late?On the contrary, Princess. You’re early.”
Early?How could that be? The wondering burned on my lips, but I held it back. One of the first rules ingrained into me for these secret exchanges was simple but immutable: ask no questions. The less I knew, the safer I was, and the less likelihood I could be forced to reveal my co-conspirators should I ever be caught or interrogated…or so they claimed.
They knew me in every detail—my face, my name, my role—while my mysterious contact’s identity remained shrouded. That was the game, and it left me always at a disadvantage, one I was increasingly dissatisfied with, much as I wanted to contribute to their cause.
That was the game, and it left me always at a disadvantage, one I was increasingly dissatisfied with, much as I wanted to contribute to their cause that was deeply personal to me.
I recalled the day my father’s advisor, Lord Zareth, had informed me of my impending marriage with Thorndale’s heir. I’d wished my father could have told me himself, but he was having one of his increasingly common sick spells and no one aside from the healer was allowed in his chambers.
After the usual platitudes about the honor I would do the Kingdom of Myrielle by creating this alliance with Thorndale, the advisor had bowed and departed. Less than an hour later, as I took a solitary tea and pondered my future, my first secret communication had arrived: a simple note under my teacup, inviting me to a midnight meeting in the garden.
The cryptic note had given few clues as to the purpose of this meeting. I initially planned to ignore it, as it seemed theheight of foolishness for a princess to meet a stranger at night in a secluded location. As darkness fell, I grew restless between worry for my father and the weight of my new engagement.
My maidservant entered the room with a cup of tea. She was a kind, motherly woman had served my mother until her death and now assisted me. She set the tea down on my table and began turning down my bed, but I was too preoccupied.
Finally she lit my bedside lamp and turned to me with a sigh. “Are you not tired, my lady?”
I paused in my pacing to drop onto a soft chair, which offered no comfort in my current state. “Not yet. I think I’ll read for a while.” I attempted to sound carefree, but she had served me too long to be so easily fooled.
“Maybe you need some fresh air?” Without awaiting my response, she fetched my darkest cloak from the wardrobe.
I stared at her in silence for a long moment. “Did you leave the note?” I finally questioned.
“Note, my lady?” She looked at me in well-feigned surprise as she wrapped the cloak around me. I hesitated a moment longer, searching the softened lines of her wrinkled expression, before slipping a small dagger into my waistband and sneaking outside.
Walking in the garden slowly settled me, and I found my feet turning in the direction of the location given in the note. I nervously perched on the small bench tucked beneath my favorite cherry tree…and waited.
It didn’t take long for the ghost of a whisper called my name, making me jump. My fingers curled around the hilt of my dagger. Whoever had come to meet me remained on the other side of the tree, whispering a story that shocked me, a secret that Thorndale was hiding.
I’d grown up hearing stories of an ancient witch who possess magical abilities to create powerful concoctions to heal nearly any malady, and her power was said to be derived from anancient artifact said to be a magical hourglass that hung around her neck. Rather than the normal sands of time, it was filled with a violet powder that swirled at her command, turning back the clock not on life but on disease, eradicating it.
At one point centuries ago, a greedy king had attempted to steal her source of power, and the witch had vanished from history. When the king and his soldiers had arrived to confiscate the artifact, it had disappeared…along with every sign of the wielder’s existence—her herb garden and tiny pharmacy replaced with an empty clearing, as though she’d never existed at all.
I knew the story well, but that night was the first time I heard the rest of the tale. The king had been the ancestor of Thorndale’s current monarch…and he hadn’t returned empty-handed. The voice whispering to me skimmed quickly through the details, but two facts were clear: Thorndale possessed this priceless artifact, and it might be the key to saving my father’s life, along with any of our subjects who were ill…if only it could be found.
