Blood & Shadows

Twenty

Lilyse--my maid--keeps me company most days, running interference between myself and Erastyn the steward of my household. Trysten becomes a nightly fixture, spending the late hours of the evening until the small hours of the morning holding me. After a week it becomes a comfort and after a month it's a habit. We don't talk, he comes in takes my hand and leads me to bed and I fall asleep on his chest with him glamoured as Vrythien.

When I'm to leave for my cousin's for the winter feast days I don't want to go. Never mind that as Lilyse plaits my hair I can hear her grin as she hums.

"I missed this, when you were a child, you always looked like a little doll by the end, now you look like some grand statue of Azaratha. I'm glad you chose the black." She smooths the simple black damask gown. I'm in mourning, so it's fitting but she doesn't know this. "It always makes you look otherworldly. I suppose it's fitting since you have your mother's affinity for shadow magic. Since it's been sometime I'll remind you of the rules. You are permitted to be in the upper portion of the palace, and you must wear your mask at all times. I don't know why I'm wasting my breath you're Lazthien and will do as you please." She laughs a bit and finishes plaiting my hair before applying my face paint. My eyes are played up dark and dramatic and my lips are a shock of red when she's done. At the end she ties the black half domino mask with raven feathers to my face and smiles at her work in the mirror.

Next comes the careful pinning of a metal crown to my hair. It wreathes my head like a halo of little spiked swords that match the collar around my throat. Little pieces of jet and garnet catch the light sparkle against the dull threads of tarnished mithril embroidery, swords, ravens and random flourishes decorate the bodice of the gown with its deep plunging neckline it leaves most of my breasts exposed only slightly held back by the gown with its long gaping bell sleeves. It's easy to get lost in the finery and forget. The next few weeks I'll pour myself into frivolity and then after the feasting days are done, I'll kill Razeth and after...

I rub the signet ring and let Lilyse finish fussing over me. She leads me to the carriage waiting out front and places me inside paying careful attention to my dress. The inside of the carriage is all red velvet with golden embroidery of the house crest. How many times have I ridden in this very carriage across from my father? Is this what took me to the cafe when I met Razeth the first time? I stoke over the embroidery by the door as the horses hooves clack on the cobblestones.

It doesn't take long to pull up outside of a massive gothic palace of dark stone. We ride through the gate and into a courtyard with dark painted glass windows overlooking from above. Dull chatter sounds all around as people linger in their finery clad in costume complete with masks. Some masks cover entire faces, others like mine are only half dominos which allow the wearer's features to shine through. A woman as pale as the snows dusting the gargoyles above waits for me at the base of the stairs. Her gown leaves most of her decolletage bare, which she adorns with an intricate golden necklace. Her hair is like spun garnets and falls behind her in thick waves pulled back from her face. Her eyes are dark and expressive with thick black brows above them. The rest of her face is so very delicate and pretty, her red mouth most of all draws attention.

Though her dress is fine and in the same revealing fashion of my own I know this is not a peer that stands before me. The mask she wears is dark red and unadorned. And pretty though she is, she's human. She might hide the tips of her ears in her hair but it's inescapable.

As I let the foot man help me down from the carriage with one hand, the woman drops into a low sweeping curtsey and she stays low until I stop before her. Even then she's slow to rise.