Witch of Iria

Masquerade

Unmask! Unmask...And the Red Death held sway over all – The Shining, Stephen King

The next night I'm invited to a party. Finn has been mysteriously absent, his disgusting kiss lingering on my mouth. Now I'm being dressed up again and paraded before curious nobles.

The mask is swan white, its feathered edges highlighting shadowed eyes. Suzanne smiles faintly and nods her head in approval. My hair is pinned up and I feel hemmed in, a bird in a cage of moonlit satin and silk. The dress hugs my body and the sleeves flare out, covering my palms. It's simple and elegant. The air is stuffy with the window closed.

"Don't you like it?" Suzanne asks.

I paste a smile onto my face but my thoughts are on Dorcha. I look as if I'm wearing him.

"I love it," I manage to say.

I spin around and the dress is like a whirlpool with me at the centre. I've been summoned to a party to impress Finn's friends...and enemies. It's hosted by the blonde woman who was with Celeste when I met Elise. Lady Arran.

Suzanne begins to gather up my discarded clothes and I wonder if she's some sort of spy. For Finn or for another player. And yet he seems to trust her. Her mouth is turned down as she picks up my clothes.

How do I know who to trust? Don't trust anyone. My mother's voice whispers in my mind and for once I think her advice is sage. I feel as if I'm falling too quickly, unable to catch myself before the ground looms up before me.

I shake my head and the dazed creature in the mirror does the same. The feathered girl in the glass is someone else: innocent and utterly caught. Not a witch who is hanging by her fingertips over some precarious precipice.

When he enters, I think that this is the moment of deception. I have to be lovestruck.

But when he actually appears, his boots clinking against the floor, my deception crumbles. His beauty strikes a blow and I loathe the way my body loses itself. Desire claws its way up my thighs and his amused smirk tells me he knows. He's shocking in black velvet and a shower of golden hair. I hold the image of Dorcha in my head, trapped in that stable. But my body doesn't care. It wants him all to itself. It's very...strange.

"You look ravishing," he purrs and I try to smile. A giddy feeling comes over me and I don't understand why.

"So do you," I mutter back. "You look..."

Like a god made mortal. He flirts with danger, the dark clothing making him roguish. But even though my body is combusting, I notice that he can't pull off that dangerous edge as well as his brother. Idris is far more terrifying to me, with his black hole eyes. Finn looks like a playboy in comparison. Idris wears it naturally, like a scaled second skin. But Finn is too glib to incite fear. Maybe that actually makes him more dangerous.

His eyes drift to my mouth and a shiver goes through me. I'm not sure what emotion it is anymore. Fear or desire. I swallow and take his arm, my dress a deathly white.

The party is at a town house, nestled in the blue district. It's bare and elegant, the servants cold faced behind pitch black masks. They lead us in and I'm accosted by the blonde woman from the meeting with Elise, her eyes drifting coyly downwards. Her mask is copper, with small diamonds and her dress is the red hue of freshly spilled blood.

"My lord," she simpers, bowing low. I raise my brows. She darts a curious look at me and I'm reminded of a fox, quick and clever and brutal.

"Lady Arran," Finn replies with strategic charm. I catch sight of Owen, his mask decorated with exotic blue feathers, laughing with champagne.