The order of masks, p.30
The Order of Masks, page 30
The doubt was clear on Lillian’s face. ‘Are you, Mira? Are you really doing it for them?’
I didn’t know the answer to her question. Or maybe . . . maybe I did.
I wasn’t sure which was worse.
Lillian’s posture was stiff as she moved towards the door. Then she hesitated, glancing over her shoulder. A flicker of vulnerability entered her eyes as she murmured, ‘I love you, Mira. I wanted you to be my sister one day.’
For a moment, I imagined a different ring on my finger – smaller, lighter, easier to bear. A different future – one based on love and trust, with Aric and Lillian filling the void my mother had left behind. But already Lillian was slipping out of the door – and as it closed,
I felt that future close along with it.
I didn’t have the chance to tell her that if our circumstances were different, I would have wanted that too.
It was fitting that my new life should begin with an execution.
In some ways, it felt like coming full circle. Except, instead of me down there, helpless and afraid, I was now one of those monstrous people watching from the stands. The ones who had cheered for my mother’s death, not so long ago. Who had cheered for mine.
Even the Warrior who ushered me through the massing crowds looked familiar, like he might have been one of the men who had escorted me from the dungeons. My eyes darted towards the lower section of the arena. I couldn’t see the cells from here, but I knew they were there.
Today of all days, it was crucial that I appeared calm. Obedient. Unaffected. But every step felt like walking over hot coals. Fighting in the Trials was one thing. Coming here like this . . . it was horrifying.
Then another thought occurred to me. What if it was Darius?
No. No, that wasn’t supposed to happen until after my wedding. The emperor hadn’t wanted to taint the excitement, and no one cared too much about the death of one criminal from the Lower Districts.
‘Make way,’ a guard shouted. ‘Make way for the princess!’
I turned to see Scarlett approaching: a gleam of red in an ocean of black. She caught sight of me and paused, her gaze darting to the sparkling circlet resting on top of my dark hair. The physical embodiment of my new status.
‘Come with me,’ Scarlett said. ‘We are almost sisters, after all.’
I took Scarlett’s offered hand. Her skin was cold; it burned like ice.
‘There’s no need to look so concerned,’ she commented as we walked, people ducking their heads as we passed. ‘You should be pleased.’
I cast her a sideways glance, wondering if I’d misheard. ‘Pleased? That we’re about to watch someone die?’
Scarlett’s smile was difficult to read. ‘We’re about to watch a Ravalian die. If I were you, I’d be pleased.’
I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I didn’t try. But something twisted low in my gut. Was that the kind of person I’d become, if I spent long enough trapped in this court? Someone who delighted in blood and pain and death – so long as it was Ravalian? So long as it wasn’t mine?
With the guards clearing a path through the stands, it wasn’t long before the royal box came into view. It was easy to recognise Cassius even from a distance, his golden hair gleaming in the sunlight. He looked like he was attending a party rather than an execution, resplendent in a midnight-blue tunic that matched his eyes.
‘You seem to make a habit of dressing for battle,’ he said by way of greeting. ‘Maybe you should be down there.’ A nod towards the arena floor, where I caught a glimpse of the executioner’s formidable figure. I quickly averted my gaze, not wanting to look too closely at the sword strapped to the man’s side.
‘I think I’ve spent enough time in that arena,’ I said cautiously.
‘I suppose you have.’ Cassius’s nonchalance was disconcerting. ‘Either way, the royal box is much more comfortable.’
Nobles turned at our approach, stepping out of the way and bowing deeply. A few glanced at the black diamond on my finger, and I heard some murmurs about the Lapian mines, about the rarity and the expense. I hadn’t realised the ring was anything out of the ordinary, and I cast a questioning glance at Cassius – but his attention was focused ahead. He didn’t seem to notice the whispers and scrutiny, or perhaps he simply didn’t care.
The emperor was seated in the centre of the royal box, murmuring something to his wife. He didn’t acknowledge our presence.
Scarlett brushed past without speaking, claiming the vacant seat next to the empress. Two other throne-like chairs were situated to the emperor’s left; Cassius slid into the one closest to his father, and I reluctantly took the other, waving away a platter of dried fruits offered by an over-eager attendant.
Cassius plucked a few sugared figs from the platter, his sapphire cufflinks sparkling in the midday sun. I would have liked to believe his carelessness was feigned, or that he was simply used to events like these. He wouldn’t be the only one; around us, the crowd was already cheering, the arena amplifying the sound until it reverberated in my ears. But as Cassius took hold of my hand, his finger running lazy circles across my palm, I realised it was more than that.
He was enjoying himself.
‘Who is it?’ I asked.
‘Hmm?’ Cassius said. But I was certain he’d understood the question perfectly.
‘Who are we about to watch die?’
‘You’ll see,’ he replied with a small smile. ‘I’d hate to deprive you of the surprise.’
A sick feeling built in my stomach. I started to press him further, but was cut short by the sound of a trumpet blaring. Hundreds of eyes turned towards the arena below, where three Warriors escorted a chained prisoner into view.
Stunned silence swept through the stands at General Tiran’s approach. He was still wearing his military uniform, but it was covered in dirt and grime. Even from high above, I could see the way he blinked – struggling to adjust to the bright sunlight, after so long spent in darkness. I remembered the feeling.
Then my gaze went to the woman following just behind him, and my heart sank. Horrified, I leant forward, trying to get a better look.
I could have been staring at Odessa a few decades older, though Lady Tiran’s head was bowed in a way her daughter’s never would have been. Her pale hair obscured her features from view, hiding her face from the crowd. That was a temptation I remembered, the urge to shield myself from the audience’s vicious scrutiny.
My nails sunk into the plush armrests. This was a nightmare. This was – it was—
It’s all my fault.
I barely heard the emperor’s booming voice announcing the general’s crimes. The crowd booed but all I could think of were Cassius’s assurances, his promises that the general and his family would be granted mercy. That they would be spared.
The crowd roared even louder, hungry for blood. General Tiran kept his head straight ahead, facing the emperor. At his side, his wife was openly sobbing.
Was Odessa somewhere close, watching the deaths of her parents from the staging area where I had once waited with my mother? Or was she still down in those dungeons, screaming and clawing at the bars?
‘You promised,’ I said through bloodless lips, tearing my gaze away from the executioner. He was already advancing towards the shackled prisoners; they had minutes left to live, if not seconds. ‘Nothing final.’
Cassius’s expression was dispassionate as he watched the scene unfolding below. There was no apology in his face as he glanced at me. No trace of remorse.
‘I lied.’
The execution was over. The bloodlust satiated – for now.
Cassius steered me through the exiting crowd without speaking. His arm wound around my waist, keeping me close to him – scandalously close.
I didn’t need to look at the audience to know they would be whispering. But Cassius’s presumptuousness served another purpose, and with inches between us, we could talk without being overheard.
‘You used me,’ I said numbly. ‘This was what you wanted all along.’
‘Of course it was,’ he replied. ‘You can give me a country. What use was Odessa in comparison?’
‘She was your fiancée. Was it necessary to do it this way? To destroy her life?’
‘Don’t tell me you’re feeling sorry for her,’ he drawled, raising a blond eyebrow. ‘She would have done the same to you, if she could. She would have done worse.’
I shook my head in disgust – with him, with myself. ‘What’s going to happen to her now?’
‘She’ll remain in the dungeons until her trial. Despite what you think, I’m not entirely heartless; I argued for a reduced sentence on her behalf.’
‘And if the emperor had decided to execute Odessa along with her parents? What would you have done then?’
His silence was answer enough.
‘Don’t look at me like that,’ he said, his grip tightening until it became almost painful. ‘You’re the one who planted the general’s seal in Lady Seneca’s home. I don’t recall you being concerned with Odessa’s welfare then.’
The accusation in his voice made me pause mid-step, and only Cassius’s strong hold kept me moving. My pulse was racing so fast that I wondered if he could feel it.
‘Let me give you some advice.’ Cassius’s voice lowered into something dangerous. ‘In my court, either you play to win, or you lose. There is no in-between.’
‘It’s not your court yet,’ I retorted.
He smiled darkly. ‘It will be,’ he vowed. ‘And you’re going to help me get it.’
We reached the bottom of the steps, and my gaze went to the bodies of the general and his wife, the sand around them dark with blood. It was a gruesome tableau, and even as the Warriors prepared to cart them away, I knew their efforts were in vain. Death stained this monstrous place, and nothing would ever make it clean again.
‘Don’t worry,’ Cassius said, his lips shifting to my ear. ‘Our terms still stand. Once we’re married, I am prepared to be very generous.’ His fingers trailed down my neck and across my collarbone in slow, soothing strokes.
His touch should have been intimate, but it was possessive instead. It made me feel caged. Trapped.
In less than a month, I will be Cassius’s wife.
The thought was like a bucket of icy water. All my plans to avenge my mother’s death, to find a way of helping Kalure . . . I had been so focused on those goals that I hadn’t considered – hadn’t allowed myself to consider – what marrying Cassius would really mean. It wasn’t a love match, but he would still want to consummate it. To have heirs.
And while I had once considered a dalliance with him . . . this would be permanent. Inescapable.
Staring up at the man who was going to be my husband, I swallowed down apprehension. He was giving me a promise, but how much was a promise really worth?
In Odessa’s case, it hadn’t been worth anything at all.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Scarlett
The past few weeks had been filled with an endless string of court events, all requiring my attendance. No two occasions were the same, but one outcome was: Cassius and Mira were impossible to avoid.
They attended formal dinners, public events, even council meetings. And in the rare moments they weren’t around, their engagement was all the court could talk about. I might not have minded if there was some outrage mixed into the gossip, but even the sharpest-tongued courtiers had lost their edge. Everyone believed this was the perfect solution to the fighting in Kalure, and now that Mira was set to become a Ravalian princess, her rebellions were forgotten. Instead, stories of her successes in the Trials were recounted with unsettling fondness.
It was infuriating. They hadn’t even had their engagement ball yet, and somehow, Cassius and Mira’s combined popularity had eclipsed Roran’s. I almost wished he was back from Kalure, just so I could see his expression – and whatever brutal reprisal he came up with.
But I had my own problems. My father’s success with Mira and Cassius had given him an appetite for matchmaking.
I remained a careful two paces behind the emperor as we strode through the jasmine-scented gardens. It was a romantic setting, and I wondered if he had chosen it deliberately, thinking it might soften me.
If so, he had severely miscalculated.
‘You can’t be serious,’ I said, my voice brittle. ‘We can conquer Maesteri whenever we like. There’s no need to consider a betrothal—’
‘And their king knows that, which is why he offered such generous terms to acquire you for his son.’
Acquire – as if I were an object. A thing to be bought and sold.
Emperor Kalias slowed. ‘I assure you, daughter, I did not make this decision lightly. Maesteri offered us a fleet of ships and an obscene amount of gold in exchange for your hand. This marriage will greatly benefit the empire.’
‘And what of my other suitors?’ I demanded, not bothering to keep my voice down.
A few promenading nobles turned to stare, only to quickly avert their eyes. Through the windows, I caught glimpses of the revelry unfolding in the ballroom. Everything was elaborately arranged; unlike the announcement of my betrothal to the governor, which had been a dinner like any other, no expense had been spared for Cassius and Mira’s special evening.
‘There will be no other suitors,’ my father replied. ‘It’s already been decided.’
Anger rose, colder than ice. Sharper than steel. ‘You made me a promise.’
‘I know I said four months.’ The words were utterly unapologetic. ‘But Maesteri will be sending a delegation for Cassius and Mira’s upcoming wedding. I’ve already informed King Damirian that you will be sailing back with them, where you and the prince can begin preparations for your own nuptials.’
Lengthening my stride, I cut in front of him. ‘Is this how we do business now? Kowtowing to the demands of foreign nations?’
‘Careful, daughter.’ Kalias didn’t raise his voice, but the threat was clear.
I stepped aside, but didn’t lower my gaze. Once, I had looked at my father and seen a ruler to admire. Now, I saw a hypocrite – a man who clung to the trappings of power, despite his claims of ruling like the austere Northern kings. A man willing to sell his daughter for his own gain.
Blood-red robes trailed behind the emperor as he swept down the path. He didn’t bother with guards; had no need of them, his every movement powerful and controlled. But he could no longer control me.
Whatever he believed, I had no intention of going through with this marriage – and every intention of taking his life.
And his throne.
The towering doors of the grand ballroom creaked open ahead of us, and a trumpet blared as the herald read out my father’s long list of titles.
Kalias paused at the threshold and turned back towards me. ‘Prince Adomas is handsome, mild-mannered and accomplished. He’s also set to inherit his father’s title, which will make you a queen one day. Don’t fight the match. It’s as much for your benefit as it is mine.’ He brushed his thumb across my cheekbone, a gesture that was probably intended to be affectionate. But his gaze was already straying towards his makeshift throne and waiting advisers. And I knew that I had been forgotten.
A path opened up as he made his way through the circulating nobles. I drifted through the hall in his wake, feeling curiously light and insubstantial. Untethered. As if I was even more separate from the court than usual.
Plucking a glass of wine from a servant’s tray, I stared down at the red liquid. My mind was consumed with plans that had once been vague outlines, and now began to sharpen into something firmer and clearer.
‘You must be so pleased, Your Highness,’ Lady Verne said, sliding into a perfect curtsy. ‘Truly, the entire kingdom celebrates your brother’s upcoming marriage.’
A handful of beautiful ladies accompanied her, all wearing exquisite gowns and carefully unreadable expressions. Empress Ivalene’s ladies.
They dropped into similarly polished curtsies. I sipped my drink, forcing them to hold their curtsies as Lady Verne had once done to me. They were far more skilled than I was; they barely even wobbled.
I nodded for them to stand and turned a bland smile on Lady Verne. There was little chance that her comment was genuine. She had barely tolerated me during her etiquette classes, and her choice of company tonight said enough about her true feelings. Few courtiers despised me more than Ivalene’s ladies.
I tossed back the rest of my drink, delighting in Lady Verne’s appalled expression. After handing my goblet off to a passing servant, I said, ‘Your celebrations are premature. Engagements are tenuous, breakable things; just look at what happened to Governor Halvor.’
I turned my back on her with a thin smile, striding towards Mira, who was the only person here who truly mattered. But my eyes narrowed as I noticed the way Lillian had shaped Mira’s hair on top of her head like a crown. How she had taken inspiration from Zandri, turning Mira’s outfit into a showstopping spectacle, with black feathers criss-crossing from her shoulder to the fitted bodice of her gown, where they spilled down the left side of her crimson skirts like a waterfall of ink.
A queen. That was what Mira looked like – what Lillian had dressed her as. Like the queen Cassius no doubt intended her to become.
Just as I reached Mira, a herald made the announcement I had been dreading all night.
My younger brother strode into the gathering with magnetic confidence, his charcoal-and-black ensemble standing out amongst the bright tunics and dresses favoured by the court. He had come without an entourage, and didn’t seem concerned with his lateness; his apathetic face conveyed his disinterest in the nobles who parted before him, like sheep before a wolf.
His eyes searched the crowd before settling on me. ‘I warned you not to trust Father’s promises,’ he murmured in my ear.
I didn’t ask how he knew. Cassius’s influence – made up of bribes, deals and threats – infected the rest of the court like a disease, and that disease had only spread now that the balance of power had shifted in his favour.
