~Prince Andrelandros

  Yet another Winter’s Eve Masquerade. What’s the point of it being a masquerade, anyhow? Almost every noble in attendance was immediately recognizable by one distinguishing feature or another, whether it be the shade of their hair or the way they smile. To make it even easier, most of them wore masks that could barely be called such, they revealed so much.

  Why bother with anything at all if it only covered one eye and half a nose?

  “Stop scowling, Landros,” Lance told him from the throne next to him. “You’re ruining the mood.”

  Unlike during the days at court, tonight the three children were seated next to the Queen from oldest to youngest at a long table, on the King’s left. On the King’s right sat his chamberlain, who was busy chatting away about some boring thing or another. “You’ll give everyone the impression that you hate it here.”

  “And what if I do?”

  “At least fix your face so it doesn’t look that way,” his brother chastised, looking even more like the onyx wolf mask he wore. “Think of all the people here who want to enjoy themselves. This very well might be the highlight of their year.”

  “Really, Landros,” his sister Aurelia chimed in, her gold and diamond fairy mask twinkling. “How can you not look at all those beautiful ladies and not be moved to dance with any of them? Just look at Marquess Grayson’s daughter! At least, I’m fairly certain that silver hair belongs to her. Whoever she is, she’s a vision in that rose velvet gown and butterfly mask. You should ask her to dance, Landros.”

  “Like hell I will,” he grumbled back. “As soon as I go down there, I’ll be trapped for the evening. Besides, I’m waiting for someone.”

  Both older siblings glanced at one another, then at Landros.

  “Oh?” Aurelia questioned, raising a brow. “Who might that be, little brother?”

  For the first time that evening, his crankiness subsided long enough for a cheeky grin to emerge. He hadn’t seen her yet, but once she arrived, he planned to head down to the floor and immediately ask her to dance. He had something to prove, after all.

  “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  His older siblings knew better than to press the matter, and the three of them fell into companionable silence while they nibbled on their feast and sipped their spiced wine.

  After what felt like hours to Landros, but what was likely only a quarter of one, he saw what he had been waiting for—gold, coral, pink, and lavender. Hair that only belonged to one person on the entire continent.

  The stairs were directly in front of the raised dais the royal family was seated upon, across the ballroom dance floor, so Prince Andrelandros had a perfect view of Lady Florence as she descended the stairs. It took him a moment to notice—his first impression had simply been one of pure awe—but as she slowly stepped closer to the dance floor, he understood why. Her gown was unlike anything he had ever seen. And he had seen many, many gowns.

  It was cream at the top with delicate, almost transparent, lace sleeves that were tight at the upper arm, and loose and draping at the elbow. But it was below the bust where the dress was truly unique, because that was where the color began to change.

  Cream gave way to the lightest lavender beneath the bust, which transitioned to lilac, then amethyst, to violet, plum, dark indigo, and ending in an almost black blue-purple that looked like the night sky when the gems in the fabric caught the light. It was impossible to tell where one color ended and another began. Was it magic? It had to be magic.

  Landros wasn’t the only person in the room who had stopped to stare. Nearly everyone’s eyes were upon Lady Florence.

  But he was the first person to approach her. Everyone else gave her a wide berth.

  Even when she’s the most beautiful woman in the room, he thought bitterly, they’re still too afraid to approach her.

  She watched him draw near, arms crossed in front of her waist. Wary.

  “Your Highness,” she greeted him when he stopped in front of her, curtsying. Her dress rippled as she moved, and the tiny gems twinkled in the light of the ballroom. He liked that her dress wasn’t weighed down with heavy embellishments or covered by embroidery—the simple sparkles were the perfect complement to the gradually darkening purples. It was perfect... no, she was perfect.

  “My lady,” he replied, taking her hand for a light kiss. He could feel her heat through the thin silk of her cream-colored gloves. “May I have this dance?”

  Her delicate brows scrunched as she scrutinized him, clearly visible over the plain, slim lace mask she wore.

  “If you’re certain,” she said after a few moments. Why did she sound doubtful?

  “Quite,” he replied, holding out his arm. He’d just have to show her she wasn’t making a mistake by accepting his invitation.

  Since it was his first dance of the evening, the floor was yielded to him, but a look of panic from Lady Florence had him glaring pointedly at his siblings. Taking his hint, both joined them with partners of their own shortly after.

  “You’ve improved markedly,” he told her while they moved around the floor, making her wince. Damn it. “What I meant to say is, you’ve improved quickly in such a short amount of time. It’s commendable, my lady.”

  “It’s only dancing,” she mumbled, staring at his chest, “but I’ll thank you all the same for the compliment.”

  Indeed, they made it through the entire dance without her stepping on his feet once, and for some reason, this made him a bit sad.

  He noticed she seemed a little breathless, so he offered to get the two of them some champagne.

  “I take it you’d rather not join my family at our table?” Lady Florence’s eyes widened in panic, but before she could speak, Landros continued, “To be honest, I’d rather go outside and get some fresh air. Would you care to join me?”

  “Yes, that sounds…” Lady Florence frowned and looked over Landros’ shoulder. She took a step backwards and scanned the room with her eyes, but when Landros turned around, he could see nothing that would cause alarm.

  “Lady Florence?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “Not here. No!”

  It was then he noticed her pupils were like tiny dots of ink. Unease flared within him—something was wrong, even if he couldn't see it.

  “Lady Florence?” he asked again, but it was as if she didn’t hear him. She picked up her skirt with her hands, turned, and ran out of the ballroom toward one of the balconies. “Lady Florence!”

  “Your Highness!” someone called, rushing in to curtsy before him.

  “Your Highness?”

  “Oh, Your Highness, do you recall…”

  “You look so handsome, Your Highness…”

  He was surrounded! A fox, a cat, flowers, a peacock, and so many other faces hidden behind strange masks circled him the moment they saw he was alone.

  “Yes, thank you, pardon me,” he pushed his way through the throng of perfumed women vying for his attention and finally followed Lady Florence to one of the front balconies.

  Thinking he would find her waiting on a bench for him, he was not at all prepared to see her standing on the railing.

  “No!” he shouted.

  But it was as if she had fainted—her knees gave out, her head lolled to the side, and she slowly fell backward off the railing forty feet to the drive below.

  Landros’ heart lurched as the silky fabric of her gown slipped through his fingers like water.

  “No!” he shouted again, leaning over the railing to watch helplessly, sure he was going to witness her death.

  But against all odds, someone was there to catch her.

  Landros sank to his knees in relief, giving himself only a moment to say thanks to the saints, then summoned his aura to help him safely leap over the side.

  ?????

  ~Trevor

  By the grace of the Saintess herself, he had been in the right place at the right time. Had he been delayed a moment longer, or not glancing out the window in boredom, he wouldn’t have seen the dramatic scene unfold, nor would he have been in the correct position to save her.

  As it were, he now sat in the snow, somewhat worse for wear, with an unconscious Lady Florence in his lap. Next to him sat a groaning prince.

  “Why didn’t you take the stairs, Your Highness?” Trevor asked him.

  “This seemed urgent,” the prince replied, rubbing his knees. “Now, tell me what you saw.”

  From the window of his carriage in the line for entry, Trevor had seen a lady about to jump off a balcony. He’d leapt out and run as fast as he could, just in time to see her not jump—but fall. He hadn’t even known it was Florence until they were both on the ground.

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  The way his heart had shuddered when he recognized her, and the belated terror at how close he had been to her death...his chest still hurt.

  “She was already unconscious,” he explained to the prince. He'd checked multiple times that she was still breathing. Every time he felt the slight warmth of her breath on his ear, relief flooded him.

  The prince was looking at Lady Florence with such a strange expression that it made Trevor tighten his grip around her. Why did the prince care so much?

  Do they know one another?

  “Trevor Rowanward, correct?” the prince asked. Trevor nodded. “Right then. I’ll take her while you get to your feet.”

  Reluctantly, Trevor let go of Lady Florence, who was limp and lifeless in his arms. Some of her hairpins had come loose, and long tendrils cascaded over the prince’s arm. Even like this, she was so devastatingly beautiful. A lump lodged itself firmly in his throat.

  Trevor got to his feet and wrapped Florence in his cloak before taking her back. Then, he followed the prince, who began speaking into a ring. Together they went into a hidden doorway, down several dimly lit hallways, down a set of stairs, through what seemed like a secret passageway, and ended up in—

  “The Temple?” Trevor asked, eyeing the carved white marble of the room they finally ended up in.

  “Yes,” said an unknown voice, causing Trevor to whirl around and clutch Florence even harder to his chest. “Welcome.”

  ?????

  ~Felix

  This wasn’t good. Russo was still in Kirva, and many of the other clerics were enjoying the Winter’s Eve Masquerade in a rare night of frivolity allowed to them.

  The prince had also demanded discretion.

  Which was how the four of them had landed in his private chamber at the Temple.

  “What’s wrong with her?” the prince demanded. “She looked as if she’d seen a monster, ran out of the ballroom, and instead of leaping off the balcony, she fainted and fell off. It was pure luck that—”

  His voice broke off, and he looked away, but not before Felix could see the emotion in his eyes.

  “It was pure luck I was there in time to catch her,” Lord Trevor Rowanward continued. Felix noticed his grip was rather firm on Lady Florence. She was cradled close to his chest with her head tucked into her shoulder, supported by the arm wrapped around her. Indeed, it was almost as if he were embracing her rather than—

  Felix shook his head to clear the improper thoughts. It was not the time to speculate on another man’s feelings, reading too deeply into things simply because of his own emotions. He had been shocked by the prince’s sudden message in the ring he wore, the ring only meant for royal emergencies, and further disturbed by Lady Florence’s appearance when she arrived.

  That was all.

  There was no place other than Felix’s simple bed to place Lady Florence, and his cheeks reddened in embarrassment. How could I dare…

  There was no other option at the moment.

  “Quickly, put her here,” he instructed, “gently now.” Though the last bit was unnecessary, since Lord Trevor handled her with the utmost care.

  As soon as Felix placed his hand on her brow, he withdrew it, staggering backward a couple of paces into Lord Trevor, who steadied him.

  “What is it?” demanded the prince. “What’s wrong?”

  How could this be? This was impossible!

  “The Hellscape,” Felix muttered, “but how? We freed her…”

  Felix looked at his hands, as if perhaps they were the issue. Once more, he placed his hand on her brow, only to withdraw it again.

  “The what?” asked the prince.

  No, it was true. It was horribly, undeniably true.

  Lady Florence had once again descended into the Hellscape

  ?????

  ~Florence

  Because I was not invited by any other gentlemen, and because I lack a suitor, Miles is the one escorting me to the Winter’s Eve Masquerade. He is no more thrilled than I am, but at least he has the grace to appear so.

  Still, when he sees my gown, he raises his eyebrows.

  “What do you think?” I ask him.

  “It’s…well, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  My heart sinks at his ambiguous answer, but I leave the issue and get in the carriage, where we ride in silence to the palace.

  Just when I think we will part in silence, too, he says, “This is where I’ll leave you for now, sister. You’ll enter the hall alone, and it’s a good thing, too—you look so beautiful, nobody would give me a chance if I stood next to you. So, go have fun, and I’ll see you later this evening.”

  “Thank you, Miles,” I reply. “You’re the best chaperone I could’ve asked for.”

  He smiles beneath his black mask, softening his features. How kind he could look, I think, if he would let himself smile more often.

  Since it’s a masquerade, nobody is announced upon arrival. Instead, I try to make my way inconspicuously down the main stairway, but instead, I feel dozens of sets of eyes on me. My hair is clearly recognizable, but who would care that I arrived?

  When I nearly reach the bottom, I meet the younger prince’s eyes across the ballroom dance floor.

  Oh. Oh, no.

  Maybe, I think, staring at him as he approaches me, maybe he has something to say. Maybe he’s been welcoming every young lady in attendance.

  Finally, I can ignore him no longer, and curtsy when he stops in front of me.

  “Your Highness,” I say, trying not to betray my nerves.

  “My lady,” he replies, seeking my hand. I can feel the heat from his lips through the thin silk of my gloves, and my arms start to prickle. “May I have this dance?”

  What? Had I heard him correctly?

  I had planned on refusing if anyone asked me to dance, out of caution, but I could hardly refuse the prince.

  Despite feeling like I might faint any second from pure embarrassment, I somehow make it through the dance with His Highness. Even his feet escape unscathed!

  But when the dance is over and I can focus on the room around us once more, it starts to churn. I close my eyes, hoping it's just a brief moment of dizziness, but when I open them again, it's worse—the people dancing start to look like a writhing creature. Nausea roils within me, and I avert my gaze.

  “...care to join me?” I belatedly catch the end of whatever the prince had been saying to me.

  “Yes, that sounds…” I start to say back, but behind his shoulder, a cloud of black smoke is closing in, a cloud that nobody else seems to be able to see. In it, a large, shadowy beast looms, its silhouette illuminated by small bolts of blue crackling lightning.

  “No…” I mutter, barely aware of the prince’s presence. “Not here. No!”

  I can’t succumb to the curse again, especially not here! Father will never forgive me if I make a scene in the middle of the ballroom, in front of the royal family.

  My skin erupts in gooseflesh as the room darkens around me, except for the eerie glow of crimson and emerald flames licking the corners of my vision. Flashes of bright blue spur me forward as I run for the nearest balcony—if it’s going to happen, please let it be outside, away from any eyes—and shut the doors behind me.

  Of course, that doesn’t stop the hellscape from descending. The beast within it lumbers forward, intent on trapping me. I can feel it. This time is different. This time, my mind hasn’t simply wandered. No, the hellscape has found me, and it’s not leaving me any room to escape.

  Escape?

  “Ha!” I laugh bitterly, leaning against the edge of the balcony railing.

  Make a choice, Florence, and make it quickly. There is only one way to escape at this point.

  I glance at the snowy ground far below. Carriages smaller than my palm line the drive beyond the front garden.

  Jump.

  “Ha….” I sob, climbing onto the railing. I don’t want to do it, but I don’t want to go into the hellscape again. I can’t. I can’t go back there for another seven years. And I can’t drag my family’s name through the mud any more than I already have. They've all suffered because of me.

  No, it's far better to die a tragedy than live as an embarrassment, tied to a bed, helpless and mindless. Covered in dried mush and screaming until my throat rips. I can't. I can't!

  “No!” someone yells.

  But as I turn my head around to look, to see who dared to come after me, the black smoke has already claimed me, and I fall…fall…fall…

  ?????

  ~Raius

  …Silence, my Precious One! There was a great need to bring the Young One to you.

  But she is…hurt of heart and mind.

  Florence did not seem to understand them. Raius could only see her through Aurora’s eyes, but he could tell that she was too distressed to be roused. She lay upon Aurora’s fluffy, cloud-like back, a strange garment the color of a fading night sky draping down her side.

  “Unngghh…” she groaned.

  Be at ease, Young One. You had a long fall, but this Ancient One caught you. Open your eyes, Young One.

  Florence tried to, but her eyelids only fluttered, and she groaned again.

  What is wrong with her?

  …

  Mother! Why will she not wake?

  It is this Young One’s first time in the ?ther. Perhaps the journey through the…hellscape…was too burdensome upon the Young One’s soul.

  It was not worth the risk, my mother.

  Precious One! This Ancient One cannot remain here much longer. This Young One is your only connection to the Realm of the Living. Without this Young One, you, my Precious One, would be bound to the lonely path of a mindless beast. Treasure this Young One, my broodling.

  That is not the issue, my mother. She does not protect her thoughts or dreams…I have learned much about her…I am…bonded to her.

  But I cannot protect her yet…and the danger draws near. They are almost upon us—they have breached the last stone wall and only have yet to make the passage large enough for whatever it is they bring with them…I cannot see it. Ee-kwip-mint. Muh-sheen-uh-ree. These things they speak of that make unnatural noises in our den.

  Aurora trumpeted softly and stomped her front feet carefully, so as not to disturb the sleeping human on her back. She was happy Raius had bonded to the human she had chosen, but she was also angry that her den was under threat.

  Then, it is almost time, my most Precious One. Wake, Young One! You must wake. You must meet Raius. You must meet my Precious One—Raius.

  “Rai…us…” Florence whispered, her eyes still closed. Her limbs twitched, and she sighed, as if waking from a deep sleep.

  She knows my name—she speaks my name. Wake, my bondmate, so we may know one another.

  “My…my mate?” she asked, her voice soft. Her nose scrunched, then her eyes slowly opened. In her mind, Raius rumbled deep in his chest, pleased.

  Yes.

  ?????

  WHAAAAAAT?!?!?!? BONDMATE?!? Aren't you going to ask her to marry you first, Raius? ??

  xo??kb