Night of Masks and Knives (The Broken Kingdoms Book 4)
Night of Masks and Knives: Book 3 – Chapter 35

Come one, come all. Here, the weak run for cover, but the fools stand tall.

Stewards chirped the same message in shrill voices as they weaved through the sea of glittering folk. Dressed as imps, fae, and underground nyks, the flexible entertainers hopped about the tabletops, smashing wine glasses, kicking drinking horns, but always drawing laughter.

Lynx led Malin through the crowds of folk behaving as stupidly and merrily as the slums of Skítkast.

A steward dressed as a troll, clambered up one of the towering posts draped in blood red sashes and tossed handfuls of false penge coins at the delighted guests below. When unwrapped, either a chocolate treat would be found or a dare of sorts the guest could accomplish for a prize.

Tents of all shapes reached for the velvet sky like jagged teeth.

A blue tent with glittering stars hosted children and their guardians, all clapping gleefully as Hypnotiks, dressed in their Kind’s shimmering currant shade, created illusions of the night sky.

A wide tent with stripes held fortune tellers and their runes of fate. The largest white canopy in the center hosted the ball, where couples danced and waltzed until their toes bled.

In the narrow corridors and alleyways between tents, Alvers were greeted with wonderment as folk begged for something magical. An illusion. A prediction. They tipped hats, batted fans, and obliged. What other choice did Black Palace Alvers have?

The festival was rife with sweetness. Candied pomes dipped in thick, sugar sauce. Breads and rolls oozing in glazes and icings of all sorts: sweet cream, vanilla, cocoa, and butter.

A vender strode past with a tray of honey cakes topped in lingberry cream and tart jelly. Popped corn with pink salt, and sugar blown into delicate curls. Roasting pigeons with savory gravies over open flames, and endless glasses of cherry wine and hard brӓn kept guests full and lightheaded.

I weaved through the streams of beautiful folk. My black robe tangled with fine gowns spun in white silk from Furen or heavy cloaks hemmed in crystals and bells from Hemlig. Those from Klockglas were easy to spot—elaborate masks with peacock feathers out the tops and hoop skirts impossible to sit in, or quite the opposite—a hideous creature on their faces with skintight suits.

I was devoured by it all. Memories of a different masque, of the fiercest fear I’d experienced, tightened my chest in a strange sort of panic.

No time to lose my head.

I stretched my hands once, twice. Each breath had purpose, and I drew them in deeply beneath my mask until my pulse settled to a manageable thrum.

In the daze, I’d fallen behind. Already, Malin and Lynx rounded a corner that would lead them to the head of the staircase.

I quickened my pace, cutting around lyres, drums, and horn players and their endless melodies. Dodged performers on stilts and black cloaks. From underneath the stilt walkers, a second masked face burst out and tossed glittering silver and crimson dust, simply to make guests scream in delight.

Everywhere was filled with spinning, dancing, and drinking, until at last I arrived at the top of the stone steps.

Lynx cast me a quick look, his mouth in a hard line.

Although he could not see me beneath my raven head, I glared back. I didn’t need him questioning about my delay, didn’t need anyone knowing how the very scent of this horrid place was burrowed deep in my skin.

In the courtyard below us, couples were well into the masquerade ball. Brilliant costumes sparkled beneath torches and tall lantern posts with flames made larger, more colorful, through Hypnotik illusion.

″Name, My Lord,” a pious palace steward said, his voice so contrived I had a heady desire to strike him in the mouth.

″House Hakan presents Lady Freya Hakan for Heir Magnate Niall.”

The steward gave a slight nod, then faced the ball. On the stones, he clapped a carved wooden cane with Huginn and Muninn as the pommel. “House Hakan presents for Our Honored Lord, Lady Freya Hakan.”

I held my breath, waited to the count of ten, then followed behind Lynx as he descended the staircase.

A few curious people turned their heads. Most of the announcing was done as a formality. I took a guess that many were losing interest in the potential brides. Already tucked off to one side was a growing crowd of ladies in expensive gowns, looking rather dejected.

If only they knew how blessed they were not to win the favor of Niall Grym.

My eyes scanned the crowd. We had roles to play, and everyone should be in their places. If not, something had already gone wrong. I flicked a finger as I took in each mark point without turning my head.

The east wall.

Seated in a wooden chair, a man with an owl mask laughed loudly. At his side was a woman wearing a gown hemmed in bells and a golden sparrow mask on her face. Between them a broad man, masked in a checkered bear face, poured another horn of sweet wine. Junie, Niklas, and Fiske.

I grinned beneath the raven. They’d made it through the water ducts and through the opening provided us by the two spineless skydguard. A grimy journey, but they’d done it. Our weapons would be accessible.

The southeast corridor.

Two skydguard trudged the edges of the courtyard. Their faces familiar. Isak had covered his red hair, and scanned the crowd, no doubt searching for a sign of Fiske. Raum pointed toward the east wall. In half a breath, Isak nodded, then turned his focus back to marching.

The Lady’s estate.

The rooftop of a massive manor for the Lady Magnate’s use. Difficult to see without looking behind me, but I tilted my head enough to catch the gleam of something shiny. A signal from Gunnar. He and Tova were in position.

I lifted one hand and gave a quick tug to my left ear.

The gleam disappeared.

How many dancing guests were Falkyns? I couldn’t say, but it was an intoxicating bit of relief to know we were in place.

″All is well, My Lord,” I said.

Lynx nodded. “Good report, Philip.”

″The night is bright,” Malin said her signal phrase.

My eyes shot ahead the palace dais. Her code was meant to signal we’d caught the attention of the Heir Magnate.

Now was the time to find out if the crystal powder threaded throughout the Heir Magnate’s festival jacket connected to the dark dust on Malin’s gown.

I’d either praise Niklas’s name or be forced to kill a friend.

Niall sat atop the platform with his family in gaudy thrones as if they were truly kings and queens. There was the Lady Magnate on his righthand. A stern woman who loved Ivar’s power, not the man.

I’d been privy to her strong hand for discipline before. Still, the woman did have a heart for her sons.

Behind the lady were consorts of Ivar, and also the lovers of his wife. Never ones to be afraid of sharing with the world they were together to breed heirs, nothing more. House Grym fed their pleasure elsewhere.

The youngest son slouched in his seat, bored and disinterested. I scoffed. Bleeding Luca. For once could he behave as a Grym, not the man who’d rather be nose-deep in a book beneath a tree, or somewhere else his family would not be?

Luca cast his blue eyes about as if he sensed my watch. He couldn’t see me, but he paused for the slightest moment, I almost believed he knew exactly who was beneath the raven mask.

Ivar, with his coal-black eyes, sat beside Luca instead of in the center chair. Tonight, was for Niall after all. Ivar had a silver fool’s mask with vibrant white ribbons sprouting out the top; he’d laid it over his lap and muttered something to Niall.

Niall was desired by many women throughout the regions. Hard to see why. I hated the bastard.

He was cruel and loved to exert his power on those beneath him. Dagny had been harmed by the man, but she was not alone. He’d meet an end worthy of his viciousness, no mistake. I simply hadn’t decided how to do it yet.

Now, I would be placing the one who brought my soul to life in his path.

We’d reached the dais and I lowered to my knee. Ivar kept speaking to his son, but his heir was not listening.

The way Niall tore back his trickster mask and drank Malin up, head to foot, a bit of fear receded off my chest. With the crystal powder connected to the coal powder, desire and passion would be insatiable at his first glance. If his stun were any clue, the elixir was working.

With his mask removed it was easy to see how much he’d changed since I saw him last as a wicked younger man.

The Heir Magnate stood tall with dark stubble on his chin. He’d shaved the sides of his skull like most noblemen, and inked runes across his head.

He looked like a younger Ivar while Luca favored the lady with paler hair and sharper features.

″What is your name?” Niall asked, his voice strangely breathless.

″Freya,” Malin said, billowing the impressive skirts around her as she kneeled, head bowed. “An honor, My Lord.”

Niall stomped down the steps of the dais. Couples stopped twirling, intrigued. Even the minstrels ceased their lutes and drums, watching as the Heir Magnate abandoned his seat. Niall stood before Malin and Lynx, his mask tucked in his arm, head canted to one side.

″My Lady, you are . . .” Niall wore a foolish grin on his face. His eyes were glazed. “Breathtaking.”

Instinct demanded I step between Niall and Malin while schemes and ploys held me in my place.

She knew her part. Without a personal invitation there were no guarantees we’d find our way in. Even with Vali’s ears. Without getting in, we would never see Hagen. The heir lusting after Malin was needed. Still, it did not mean I had to be glad about it.

″Perhaps your escort may permit me to take you for a dance.” Niall held out his hand.

Lynx pressed a hand to his heart. “Of course, Heir Magnate. My cousin would be delighted.”

Niall paid Lynx no mind and took Malin’s hand in his, tugging her back to standing.

My fists clenched at the sight of him pawing at her back, holding her close. He kissed her knuckles, the same as I had not long ago. Maybe we needed to pivot and cut him down where he stood. Start a bleeding war in the courtyard of the masque.

Should she ask it of me, I would take to battle for her. Without question.

Niall snapped his fingers and the music spilled across the courtyard once again.

Ivar watched curiously as his heir abandoned the women who’d come before us and took to the center of the yard with Malin in his hands. His wife beamed. Luca took another drink from a horn, rolling his eyes.

″So it begins, Philip,” Lynx muttered to me.

″Yes,” I said through my teeth. “So it begins.”

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