Masquerade

Chapter One

My kingdom has been strange for as long as I can remember. For countless years, I have woken up every morning hidden away in my room. Then I have risen out of bed just to hide my face again.

Almost twenty years ago, a magical curse passed over the rolling hills of Verlockend. The wicked bane caused every inhabitant of the kingdom to develop hideous boils on their cheeks, and it has been that way ever since. Though this may seem purely cosmetic, the curse starts to take more undesirable effects as the citizens age. More and more elderly townspeople are disappearing, carried away by soldiers and locked away in a containment center – located who knows where. Something happens when we get to be older, but no one seems to know what that is. Or maybe we just don't want to know.

Of course, King Malin does not wish for the neighboring kingdoms to know of this great weakness. Verlockend is the only area that has been affected by the curse, but no one else outside of our borders knows about it, and we all want it to stay that way. The solution is for every citizen to wear a masquerade mask whenever in public, recycled from the past years of masquerade balls that used to be a simple pastime event. They cover most of the face, only keeping the eyes and mouth visible – and the boils out of sight.

Visitors from other kingdoms are informed that this is simply a fashion statement, that masks are "in style". The mask mandate keeps them from knowing the dark truth. But sometimes I feel as if the whole charade is unnecessary; we barely get visitors anyway. Ever since security was heavily increased at the border with Grandarbre, our kingdom has been all but forgotten. It simply takes too much work to enter Verlockend – work no other kingdom has time for.

I rise out of bed, the covers rustling as I place my feet on the hard wooden floor. I walk over to the full-length mirror and study myself. I am by no means beautiful, but I have come to terms with this as someone who has lived for almost eighteen years.

It's not that I am unattractive, per se, but that I am just very plain. There is nothing special or unique about my appearance: Dark brown hair, eyes of the same color, freckles all over, and pale skin due to all the time I spend inside. I have been told my hair is the color of coffee grounds, which is apparently very lovely. But my mother is the one I heard that from, and I suppose she is a little biased.

According to Verlockan beauty standards, an attractive woman is one who has very striking and exotic features. Big, brightly colored eyes, uniquely tanned skin, and full lips, for example. Since the masks cover so much of the face, women have to work harder to make themselves noticeable.

Clearly, I do not meet those nearly impossible standards. When I put my mask on, all you can see is a pair of small, ordinary eyes and a cluster of freckles on my forehead. Oh, and my untamed hair. That can't be missed.

But if the rest of my vain homeland saw what I looked like under my mask, they would consider me very beautiful. Not just beautiful, but extraordinary. A marvel. But...not in a good way.

Though I was born in Verlockend, I am not cursed. In other words, I have none of those bulging red boils. My white skin is clear and soft to the touch, like a freshly pressed bedsheet.

To this day, no one in my family knows why. When I was born, my father suggested they take me to the local physician to figure out the reason behind this. But my mother talked him out of it, saying it would sacrifice my privacy – and safety. If the rest of the kingdom found out I was different, I would live the rest of my life an oddity. Who knows what the physician would have done to me? Would he have experimented on me? Locked me away? Banished me?

I'm pretty sure my parents both have theories as to why I ended up this way, but they have never willingly shared them with me. Anytime I try to talk about possible explanations, they quickly change the subject or chide me for bringing it up.