Cloak and Dagger

I do not like the title for this chapter because, while it lets on to the conspiracy stuff that's going on in this chapter, it does nothing to hint at the ball. Suggestions?

“What news?” Chancellor Larch had been tenser than usual for the past week; the muscles in his face seemed fixed in a permanent scowl. Fortunately the courtiers, like the king, mistook these as signs of worry about Cypress’s well-being, and none suspected the irony that it was the other way around.

“Nothing good.” Cadagi responded ruefully. “The spy I sent reported that that Cypress is getting better, not worse. And he’s found the girl.”

Larch’s fists clenched. “What girl?” He spat, his eyes darting from Cadagi’s gaunt face to the smooth walls of the locked conference room.

“The one you sent him after.” Cadagi explained patiently. “The Dove of Calassi. Ellyra Sweetspire.”

“What does she have to do with anything?” He growled. “No one is supposed to be able to find that castle. It just supposed to be bait! What are the odds that she would find him there?”

“I don’t know sir. But the news is that Cypress is recovering somehow. We think it might have something to do with the girl.”

“What? That’s not possible!” Larch raged. “How could she do anything useful?” His eyes flashed as he drove his fist into the nearest wall, which immediately sprang back and reformed. He gritted his teeth and breathed deeply through them, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“All we know is that she’s sick just like he is. It’s very… strange, Lord Larch. If I didn’t know better I’d say she was taking his illness for him.” 

Chancellor Larch gasped, and then exhaled slowly, his dark eyes expanding. “Could she be? Fairies have done it. I know there have been fairies recorded in the Keeper logs. Fairies who possessed the magical concentration of Empathy.”

Cadagi scoffed. “But that’s impossible sir. If I didn’t know better that’s what I’d think. She’s not even fairy-born. No wings. Only royalty’s ever been Empaths, and they’re the strongest. Or… they were.” Cadagi smirked maliciously. “But not anymore.”

“Well then why is he getting better?” Larch demanded, ignoring Cadagi’s characteristic slam on the royal family. “Unless he was given the wrong poison during the procedure, but I was very careful about that.” He paced the floor, thinking hard.

“Sabotage?” Larch’s minion suggested.

“Anyone trying to sabotage this mission would be a fool to try to throw it off and fail to inform the king.”

“Could the prince just be stronger than we thought?”

Larch grimaced. “I suppose that that’s a possibility. I can’t see how, though. I was sure he was given enough poison to kill at least three fairies. His power is strong and that makes his body and his resistance strong too, but without his wings he should’ve been dead by now! There’s no way he should still be alive. No one is that strong!”

“He must be. Perhaps it’s between poisonings. The poison was supposed to remain dormant in his system for a while, yes? Maybe not all of it was released into his system at once. Perhaps he’s just fought off the current dose.”

Larch’s shoulders relaxed a little.“Possibly.” He admitted. “But it wasn’t supposed to take this long. I don’t like it.”

“Nor do I, Lord Larch. But there is time. As beneficial as it would be, the war does not necessarily have to begin tomorrow.”

“No. It doesn’t. But I would rather have the prince out of the way as quickly as possible. He is the key to extinguishing the family line, and second to the king and the queen, if he gets his wings back he’ll be the most viable threat.”

“His wings will take time to grow and develop. And besides, he doesn’t know how to get them back now that they’re dormant inside him.”

 “True.” Larch agreed, walking in a circle around the room for the fifth time. “Except… perhaps this is his concentration acting for him.” Larch leaned against the wall, which buckled inward slightly to support his weight, and cursed himself.  Cypress’s magical concentration: the one variable to the plan, the one flaw. Even Cypress himself had yet to discover what it was, which was rare for a fairy his age.

“But it would be as dormant as his wings are in his present state.” Cadagi reminded him carefully. “That’s the genius of your plan, Lord Larch. He can’t use his concentration even if he did know what it was.”

Chancellor Larch was silent for a few moments, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “If he does not die soon,” he said slowly, “I believe it will be time to take matters into my own hands. We could use this delay for our advantage. At the very least, it’s going to lull the king into a false sense of security. Assuming he does somehow recover, I will have to make use of an alternate plan.”

“What’s that, Lord Larch?”

“I’ll inform you as soon as I’ve thought of one.” Larch told him wearily, rubbing his temples. “In the meantime, I would like you to keep sending down spies intermittently. Makes sure the king hears nothing of this.”

“Of course, Lord Larch. I would not allow a leak.”

Larch nodded stiffly. “Good. Go.”

Cadagi left, smiling ironically. Everything was not going according to plan, but that was all right with him. At this rate, Chancellor Larch was bound to make some sort of mistake, and when that happened, Cadagi would be ready.

 

*

 

“It’s too tight!” Eliza moaned. “I’m never going to be able to breathe.”

“Sorry!” Marina apologized, loosing the strings in the back of the dress just a little. “Is that better?”

“A bit.” She glanced down at the little gold slippers that graced her feet. Although they were comfortable and easy to dance in, she was a little worried that the cold ground outside would be hard on her feet.

“Don’t worry so much.” Marina advised, tying the lacing expertly. “You’ll do fine tonight. So what if you’re not completely true to etiquette? It’s not like it really matters very much.”

“It’ll matter to Ellyra if I screw up her social standing.” Liza muttered.

“She’s your friend, and I’m sure she won’t mind.” Marina said gently. “Hand me your mask, please.”

Liza picked up her mask and admired it for a few moments before handing it back to Marina. Undoubtedly, it was her favorite part of the costume, despite the inconvenience brought about by her having to wear it all night. Made of deep red velvet trimmed with gold, it covered her nose, arcing gently around her eyes, and decorative, gold tipped, wing-like structures curved up from around the eye holes.

“Thank you.” Marina placed the disguise over Liza’s face and tied it on firmly, making absolutely sure that it wouldn’t slip.

“It’s amazing how much this thing changes my appearance.” Liza commented, watching her face in the mirror. “Except I still don’t see how anyone would mistake me for Lyra.”

“There’s one more thing.” Marina reminded her, shifting uncomfortably.

Liza’s heart sank. “My hair?”

Marina nodded. “Sit, please.”

Liza bit her lip and sat reluctantly on the stool Marina had provided for her. “I hope you’re as good with a pair of scissors as you are with a needle, Marina.”

“It won’t be too bad.” Marina assured her. “Losing your hair, I mean. It’ll grow back, I promise.”

“It just feels like it’s such a part of me.” Liza whispered, sighing. “Like a constant best friend that’s attached to my head.”

Marina giggled and produced a silver pair of scissors and a long cloth, which she draped over Liza’s shoulders and fastened securely. “I’ll keep as much of it as I can.” Marina promised.

Liza closed her eyes and winced at the sound of the scissors snipping together. You should be so glad you’re my friend Ellyra. She thought vindictively. But I really hope you get better soon. Thinking about Ellyra depressed her, but at the present moment it depressed her much less to think about Ellyra than it did to think about the fact that her hair was falling in pieces all over the floor. She was glad that Cypress was getting better, but it worried her that Ellyra was growing steadily worse. The ghosts were doing all they could, but she was becoming paler by the day; her cough grew worse and worse; and her fever, despite medicine and tea, climbed slowly higher with each passing day. Tam’s tales of Cypress’s night of blood had shaken Liza badly, but at least that symptom had not yet begun, if it ever would.

 “Tilt your head to the left a little, Liza.” Marina instructed.

“Huh? What? Oh…” Liza retreated from her thoughts and did as she was told, realizing that her head felt far lighter than normal. She dared to glance at herself in the mirror and, to her amazement, found that now, with her hair the proper length and the mask distracting from her eyes, she really did look a lot like Ellyra. “Wow.” She breathed.

“You like it?” Marina asked hopefully, snipping a few uneven strands away.

“Well, not really.” Liza admitted. “But it’s not nearly as bad as I thought it would be.”

“Well at least that’s something, then.” Marina told her, brushing her shoulders and evening the ends out a little more. “There. I think you’re ready. Go out and meet the others and I’ll clean up here.” She removed the cloth carefully and brushed Liza’s dress a few times for good measure.

“All right. Thank you, Marina. For everything.”

Marina smiled a little as she turned to retrieve the broom. “It’s no trouble at all, Eliza. Really, it gives me something fun to do and I enjoy it. It’s rather boring sometimes, being a ghost.”

“I can imagine.” Eliza returned, grimacing.

“But don’t think about silly things like that.” Marina told her brightly, shooing her out. “Go have fun at the ball. Enjoy yourself. Dance with the prince.”

Eliza laughed lightly at this last comment but as she made her way to the great hall the idea consumed her thoughts. Dance with Zayric? The idea had never even occurred to her before, though really, that was the whole point of the exercise, wasn’t it? Assuming the king and queen were really as anal as everyone said they were, there was a good chance that she would eventually be forced to dance with him. The idea simultaneously made her shiver with nerves and repulsion and caused her heart to beat a little faster in her chest.

“Why Lady Ellyra! How very stunning you look!” Tam greeted her playfully. “Your carriage awaits.”

“I have to leave now?” Liza asked anxiously, looking up at Tam.

“After you bid a temporary farewell to everyone. We assume you’ll be back late, but Cleven promised to wait for you. Have you got your invitation?”

“Yes.” Liza patted the pocket of her dress and drew it out for him to see. “It’s safe with me.”

As they entered the main hallway Cleven glanced over at her and smiled cheerfully. “You look really wonderful, Miss Eliza. It’s a pity that we can’t come with you.”

“You forget that some of us are.” Fallin interjected, striding in from off the hall. “The king wants to see both of us. And by the way, your hair is gorgeous like that. I can’t believe you were worried.” Fallin smiled at Eliza briefly and then reassumed his position as instructor. “Now curtsy for me, young lady.”

Liza groaned and curtsied for Fallin, letting the instinct of the overly practiced motion take hold of her. She wobbled slightly, and winced.

“Don’t worry, Eliza.” Fallin said, laughing. “I’m sure you’ll get it right someday. And I doubt the king will care much. He’ll just be glad that you’re there.”

“Don’t remind me that I’m going to have to make a complete idiot out of myself in front of the king.”

“And the queen and the prince!” Tam added with relish. “But honestly, Ellyra, everyone acts like an idiot in front of royalty. It’s like it they’re job to intimidate people. The real Ellyra told us that she wasn’t very excited about it either, remember? And she did fine.”

“She fainted in the queen’s arms!” Liza pointed out fretfully.

“Right, so you’ve got no important standard to live up to. Go easy on yourself, all right? It’s your first ball and you shouldn’t ruin it by worrying.”

“Tam’s right.” Cleven affirmed. “It’s even nerve wracking to be hosting. But come, you’ll need to get out the door if you’re ever going to get there.”

Fallin donned his expensive silk cap and glided elegantly into the driver’s seat of their carriage while Tam handed Liza into it.

“Remember to actually have fun, Ellyra.” He reminded her, tweaking her nose before he shut the door.

“Between trying desperately how to remember to do the steps of each dance and the right way to look at people, I’ll make an effort.” Liza responded, but Tam had evinced a small smile from her.

“Good luck! See you when you get back!” Cleven called from the doorway.

Eliza wrung her hands while the coached bounced erratically over the stones and roots of the forest. The ghosts had worked for hours trying to clear a sensible path, but they could only go so far and they could only do so much. Horseback was really the only fast way to get to Cleven’s secluded little castle, but, after much debate, Cleven had reluctantly decided to bring out his never used coach. As Tam had perceptively pointed out, no lady of a respectable manor would ever arrive at such a prestigious event on horseback. This did not make the trip easy, although the coach bounced far less once Fallin had finally gotten them onto the main road. Liza breathed deeply, unsure whether her upset stomach was the fault of her nerves or of the coach’s constant wobbling. Just as she was beginning to wonder whether they would arrive in one piece, if at all, the coach abruptly stopped, and she could hear the horses snort in indignation. The coach door opened ceremoniously and Fallin’s beaming face greeted her. “We’re here, Lady Ellyra.”

“Already?” Liza whispered, taking his hand and stepping awkwardly out of the carriage.  

“The distance is more easily covered by four horses than one.” Fallin pointed out, closing the carriage door behind her. “Enter where all the other ladies are going in. I’ll be in later. I’m sure you’ll see me sometime, and I’ll be the one to take you back to the castle, of course.”

“How will I find you?” Liza asked anxiously, her eyes glimmering.

“The king will want to keep me near him. There’s a good chance that I’ll be subject to his interrogation for most of the night. I’m sure if you find the king and the queen you’re likely to find me too.” He put a hand on her shoulder and steered her a little closer to the entrance, where Liza could just make out two men in white coats taking people’s invitations and crossing their names off a very long list.

Liza waited in line for a rather long time, frequently looking over her shoulder at Fallin until the carriage drove out of sight. She clutched her invitation tightly, her palms sweating a little. When she reached the men in white coats one of them accepted her invitation with a smile, his eyes glittering behind his classy white mask.

“Welcome, Lady Ellyra. The king has been expecting you. You are to meet him near the center fountain before the welcoming address, and that’s soon so hurry yourself.”

Thanking him awkwardly, Liza scurried into the palace, her eyes widening as she took in her surroundings. The door through which the long train of people was being admitted opened directly onto the ballroom, and Liza stopped dead in her tracks for a few moments in order to make sure she was seeing straight. The room itself was huge, easily big enough for twelve of the smaller ballrooms at Redbriar Manor to comfortably fit into it, and probably with room to spare.  High, towering windows made of expensive colored glass formed pictures way above her head and moonlight poured through some of these, causing prismatic colors to dance across the smooth marble floor. Liza craned her neck to make out the details, marveling at how very high above the ground they were and wondering vaguely how the architects had ever managed to place windows so high above the ground.

As her eyes traveled downward she took note of the three spectacular indoor fountains that graced the marble floor. Each one was themed slightly differently but, Liza was quick to notice, no fairies appeared in any of the statues: the far left fountain featured a stone family, a mother, a father and two smiling children, the far right an assortment of animals and the center, the largest fountain, featured a wonderful likeness of Prince Zayric himself, a beautiful finch on his shoulder and a sword in his right hand, upon which he leaned. Liza was immediately drawn to this center fountain and she inspected it critically. Probably some sort of birthday present. She thought bemusedly, managing to ignore her pounding heart and sweaty palms. The sculptor was fairly accurate too. Terrible posture, lazy disposition, hard eyes… Her brow wrinkled and her eyes sparkled in amusement. Except he’s smiling. That’s the only mistake.

“Rather nice likeness, isn’t it?”

Eliza jumped and spun around, her mouth gaping as she took in the gentle, pale face of the queen. “I… I was just… er… I mean… y-yes your majesty.” She tried to curtsy, but nearly lost her balance.

“Careful young lady!” Queen Sybil cried, catching her arm to steady her. “One should never kill oneself while curtsying.”

Liza’s ears reddened behind her mask, but the queen smiled reassuringly. “Don’t be nervous, little Ellyra. You know that my husband and I are beyond grateful for your service to our son. And I’m sorry that Clemantias did not give you ample time to recover. I tried get him to excuse you, but he’s quite stubborn. You look well, though. I’m glad to see that you made such a speedy recovery.”

“So am I, my queen.” Liza returned awkwardly. “It’s good to be well again. Um, did you have some sort of instructions for me? The man at the door said that you or the king would give me something.”

“Oh, did he? I believe that’s just my husband’s paranoia. He wanted to make absolutely sure you came, you see. He probably has some questions to ask you, but right now he isn’t here. He’ll be entering with Zayric in a few moments, I’m sure.”

“Should I just stay here then?”

“Yes.” The queen decided after a pause. “I think that that would be best. I’m sorry Ellyra. I would stay with you, but I must greet the other guests.”

“Thank you for informing me of the… situation.” Liza said, genuinely grateful.

“Of course. Enjoy yourself, little one.”

Liza watched the queen drift away into the crowd of colorfully dressed people and sank back into her thoughts. So now the queen’s had to catch both of us. Liza mused glumly. Only at least the real Lyra had an excuse. For me it was just out of sheer stupidity. Now I know that someone stuck up for Ellyra, though. It’s a pity the queen can’t control Clemantias. He keeps making all of the bad decisions and leading the kingdom astray… She sighed lightly. At least she didn’t suspect that I wasn’t really Lyra.

A sudden fanfare jerked Liza from her thoughts and she looked up quickly, in time to spot two new figures at the top of the elegant staircase which extended into the room. As she looked closer, she easily recognized that the two newcomers as King Clemantias, decked out in luxurious purple robes, and Zayric, dressed in dark blue velvet, his face hidden behind a fierce grey mask over which a few curls of auburn hair fell. Liza couldn’t help but smirk a little at the boredom in his eyes.

“Their royal highnesses, the most regal King Clemantias and his son, the esteemed Crown Prince Zayric!” An underling announced, as if the assembled company could mistake the two new arrivals.

King Clemantias spread his arms wide in a gesture of welcome and spoke in place of the sudden hush that rolled over the assembly. “Welcome, our people! It pleases us to see so many guests in attendance. Please enjoy yourselves during the festivities as we celebrate our son Zayric’s twenty fifth birthday!”

An approving cheer resounded from the crowd, to which Zayric responded with a mechanical nod.

For as much as she disliked the prince, Liza couldn’t help but feel a fluttering of pity for Zayric. He looks like he doesn’t want to be here any more than I do. She kept her eyes on the prince as he descended gingerly into the crowd, where he was immediately accosted by several pretty young women.

Liza was prepared to wait patiently for the king for several minutes but, to her minor disappointment, he fought his way through the crowd to the Zayric fountain rather quickly.

“Lady Ellyra.” He greeted her curtly. “What news of our son?”

“Unfortunately I have little to tell you, your majesty.” Liza informed him, trying to keep her voice from trembling too badly. “He is well and generally happy, but I regret that I can bring you no news of a change in his condition.”

“Zayric told us that he was suffering some mental deterioration while you were away calling upon this palace.”

“Mental deterioration?” Liza asked, confused. “I haven’t seen anything like that in Cleven. Zayric didn’t inform me of this episode.”

“He should have. Every since Cleven’s change there has been a steady decrease in his mental state. He’s been becoming more animalistic every day, from what Zayric’s been saying.” The king told her, lowering his voice significantly before he delivered this news.   

“Well so far nothing’s been out of the ordinary.” Liza reported truthfully. “He’s been the perfect host, actually. Very hospitable, courteous to a fault, extremely helpful with everything.”

“That certainly sounds like our son.” Clemantias agreed, inclining his head slightly. “Excellent. We are glad to hear that your presence is apparently slowing down his transformation.”

“I still don’t know why, your majesty.” Liza murmured apologetically, wondering about that. It’s definitely something that I should look into. She thought, making a mental note to check with Fallin, Tam and Cleven as to what could be the cause of the king’s strange attribution, and Cleven’s sudden increase in stability.

“Well then, we expect you to stay and enjoy yourself, Lady Ellyra. And we thank you again for the great service you are providing us.”

“It’s no trouble.” Liza lied. “None at all, your majesty. I’m glad to be of service to the kingdom.”

Liza let out a sigh of relief as the king strode from her line of vision and she allowed herself to breathe normally. It had been an interesting conversation, at least. It seemed now that the worst was over. She hadn’t even been prepared to talk to the king, yet she had smoothly overcome the hurdle and quickly as it had come up. As she turned away from the fountain she felt a slight pressure on her shoulder, and turned to see Fallin standing over her, though his height was barely above hers.

“You faced the king and lived to tell about it.” He stated happily. “Well done, madam.”

“Yes, but my heart’s still racing.” Liza said weakly.

“Don’t worry. Things can only get easier from here. The music will start soon, which means that dancing will follow. Enjoy it, Lady Ellyra. Perhaps it will be simpler than you think.”

“I certainly hope so.”

“Try, and you’ll be surprised. Now go. I’ll meet you back at this fountain at midnight, all right? Then we’ll get you out of here.”

“Midnight. Right. Got it.” She stumbled very slightly as Fallin propelled her into the crowd.

“Remember to curtsy before you dance!”

 

Liza rolled her eyes and wandered through the crowd for a bit, admiring the lovely dresses and the dazzling velvets of the men’s coats. To her amusement, she noticed that there were far more ladies present than there were gentleman; probably an idea of Zayric’s father’s, in order to give him a good selection. But that’s good. Liza reminded herself. It means that it’s possible I’ll get through this entire ordeal without having to dance.

As usual, her train of thought was rudely interrupted, this time by a semi-familiar voice calling out her adopted name.

“Ellyra! Ellyra is that you?”

Liza turned and her mouth opened suddenly in surprise as she felt two arms hugging her close.

“Ellyra we were so worried about you!”

“Mmf?!” Liza questioned mutedly, her voice muffled by the layers of pink, ruffled satin and lace against which her face was pressed. At any other time, the circumstance may have caused Liza to laugh, as the pink ruffles brought a clear image of Tam and his dress into her mind, but currently she was too flustered to think of such a thing.

“You really must tell us what you’re doing on your special mission.”

Liza wrenched away from the claustrophobic when she recognized Rosaline’s drawl. It took her a few moments to realize, however, that it was not Rosaline but Guildria who had pulled her into such an enthusiastic hug, and she gave her pretended step sister an apologetic look for wresting away so quickly.

Guil seemed unperturbed and responded to Rosaline’s comment. “She can’t tell us anything, Rosie. It’s a top secret mission from the king, remember?” Her eyes glittered with enthusiasm. “I hope it’s wonderful for you!”

“You can give us a hint, surely.” Rosaline broke in, her calculating eyes sweeping over her for any hint of information. “And by the way, Ellyra, where did you find such a wonderful dress? I’m quite sure it if it were hemmed a little it would fit me far better than it does you. It seems too loose on you.”

Liza stiffened and her eyes flashed with anger. “The king himself ordered this dress to be tailor-made for me for this occasion.” She invented, finding it easy to lie to her hated enemy; Rosaline had some payback coming anyway, both for all the times she’d insulted Ellyra or bossed her around, and for all the times Liza personally had been offended by her.

“Did he really?” Rosaline asked wonderingly, sarcasm written in her eyes, which were accented by the heavy gold makeup caking her eyelids, setting off her flashy golden mask. “Friends with the king now, are you? I’m quite glad to hear that. I’m sure as soon as you’re finished with your little quest he’ll have more favors to ask of our family.”

“He asked this favor of me, Rosaline.” Liza spat curtly. “You were not involved in any way, and if the king has half a brain he’ll keep it that way.”

Rosaline’s lips pursed into a thin line. “How dare you speak to me that way! I’ll tell mother! You see if I don’t! She’ll have you—”

“Rosie, please! There’s no need to make a scene about this little misunder—”

“Shut up Guildria! She’ll have you taken away from that stupid castle and locked up quicker than you can say fairy’s blood!”

“Fairy’s blood.” Liza retorted coldly, looking Rosaline straight in the eyes. “It would seem I’m still here.”

“Oooh I don’t believe you!” Rosaline snarled. “I bet he’s got you sweeping floors and cleaning chimneys for him! He must’ve discovered that you’re the best servant girl in the kingdom and that’s why he wants you around, isn’t it Ellyra? Ellyra of the ashes, more like! Ellyra of soot and dirt and mud and—”

“What, may I ask, is going on here?”

Liza gasped sharply as she recognized the build of the man coming up behind Rosaline, but Rosaline spun on her glimmering heel and all but spat in his face. “What does this have to do with y—oh! P-prince Zayric! How very… wonderful to see you here!” At once the tone of her voice sweetened and evened out; the ugly wrinkles of anger not hidden by her mask smoothed instantly.

“No, no. Please, ladies, if you’re going to fight, don’t let me detain you. I merely wanted to watch and perhaps inquire as to what the argument pertains.”

Liza smiled and began sweetly. “Well you see Prince Zayric it’s really all about—”

“Nothing!” Rosaline interrupted swiftly, the pitch of her voice causing her to squeak. “We were bickering about nothing. Just a petty argument between sisters, Prince Zayric. Nothing more.”

“Ah. Well that’s a shame. I find that far less interesting than your flinging of insults.”

Guildria shifted awkwardly and Rosaline forced a high-pitched, horribly fake laugh. “Well my prince, if you’ll excuse us.” Scooping up her sister’s hand, Rosaline plowed through other members of the crowd in order to put as must distance as possible between herself and the prince.

“I believe that’s the fastest I’ve ever seen her willingly try to get away from you.” Liza observed coolly, watching her alleged step sisters’ retreating backs.

“If only it would happen more often.”

Liza allowed a moment of silence to pass before she said quickly, “Thank you for coming in and breaking up the fight. Things might have gotten ugly, and that wouldn’t have been proper.”

“On the contrary, that would’ve made this whole ordeal far more interesting than it currently is. I’m sorry I broke in on it.”

“Whatever pleases you, my prince. Though I highly doubt that your father would have appreciated the loss of the life or limbs of any of his richest people. At least not tonight, during the festivities.”

Zayric turned, looking down at Liza. “Are you sure you’re Ellyra?” Zayric asked suspiciously, squinting a little as if trying to see through the ornate mask that covered the upper half of the young lady’s face.

“I believe it is you who should be asking yourself whether or not I am really Ellyra, my dear prince. After all, that is the point of a masquerade ball, if I recall my terminology correctly.” Eliza responded smoothly, her eyes dancing with energy behind her mask. She pushed the recent fight from her mind; as annoying as Zayric was, at least he was a fairly interesting conversationalist.

“It is so,” Zayric muttered, slightly impressed despite himself. “Your sudden display of cleverness must’ve thrown me off track.”

Eliza didn’t flinch but laughed lightly. “Why my prince, a barbed tongue like that deserves a bowstring, not a mouth! The music is starting; could you keep your arrows blunted while we dance?”

“I never consented to dance with you or anyone else.” the masked prince retorted indignantly, drawing away from her.

“You didn’t.” Eliza admitted. “But the night is young and we both know that your parents are most likely going to force you to dance with ever girl in this room at least once before this ball is over in the hopes that not recognizing their faces will somehow impair your judgment of their character, in which case, it would behoove you to get your dance with me over with in the beginning.”

Zayric paused, thinking this over. “Well now that you’ve wasted half of the song with idle chatter there wouldn’t be much point in dancing it now.” he concluded haughtily. “And you’re not common enough for the first dance. That right’s reserved for one of the swans.”

“Swans?”

Zayric nodded, a tight smirk playing around his lips. He pointed to one of the gaudily dressed manor women, one who was dripping with jewelry; Eliza tried to hide her sly smile as she realized it was Rosaline, and in the back of her mind she wondered if he had singled her out on purpose. “Those are swans. They can’t be called by any other name. I like to dance the first dance with them to throw them all off track. It’s a game I play.”

“Wicked prince.” Eliza chided through her snickers. “You dance with the least likely maiden first for the sole purpose of destroying her hopes later.”

“On the contrary, I attempt to dance with the person in the room who seems the most likely to take the mere coincidence that I danced with her first to mean that I’ll marry her. And if her too high hopes do end up being crushed, then she clearly deserves a blow to her ego to begin with.” 

“In that case,” Eliza rejoined, curtsying low and not realizing until later that she didn’t even wobble, “might I have the honor of the second dance?”

“My, but you’re bold.” The prince commented. “When last we met, you could barely look at me. Nor curtsy either, come to think of it.”

“We all have our secrets. Perhaps that’s just what I wanted you to think. But my dear prince, you haven’t answered my question.”

“Indeed. Though your eagerness is a bit unnerving, I suppose it’s to be expected, especially since you beguiled me with your conversation and made me miss my chance to play my game this night. I consent.”

“Excellent. And what perfect timing; the music is starting.” Zayric took her hand and they began a gentle minuet. To her pleasant surprise, Eliza found that she had mastered the steps thoroughly enough to keep her eyes on her partner’s face, what little she could see of it, instead of on her feet, and her pleasure increased when she discovered the subtle glimmering of a smile turning up the corners of his lips.

“So amused by my incompetence?” She asked lightly, twirling almost elegantly under his outstretched arm.

“You seem to enjoy falsely guessing my thoughts.” Zayric responded sternly, pressing his palm to hers as they circled.

“Deepest apologies, O royal one.” Eliza said, half in jest. “I could never hope to know what goes on in such a complex mind as your own.”

“I’m sure you couldn’t. I’ll forgive you time, however, as long as it doesn’t happen again.”

“I’m sure that it won’t.” Eliza promised, taking his hand once more to complete the final steps of the dance. “From now on I’ll leave the arrogant presumptuousness up to you.” 

Zayric scoffed, bowing in response to her curtsy. “A fine way to win the heart of your partner! I’ve seen people lose fingers for less than that!”

“Now, now, my prince, weren’t we lately talking of your father’s disapproval on the loss of limbs of his subjects? Besides, it would be poor taste to cut off my fingers in the midst of a great ball.” Eliza observed. “What ever would the courtiers say?”

“You speak the truth.” Zayric agreed. “Though I’d advise you to watch out for your fingers when next we meet.”

Eliza smiled slyly and drifted with him to the fringes of the crowd. “You speak as if we’ll meet again.”

“We will.” Zayric said firmly. “There’ll be another ball in a few weeks at the latest, I’m sure, and you will be required to attend, if only to save me from my own vanity. And if not then, I’ll come and visit you and Cleven.”

“I look forward to it, humble prince.”

 A full smile flew across his face for an instant. “As do I, graceless lady.” He regarded her coolly. “Until then, farewell.” He drifted into the crowd of willing prospects.

Eliza followed him with her gaze and grinned inwardly. “A fine way to win the heart of your partner indeed...” she muttered, noticing for the first time that her heart was doing somersaults in her chest. Stupid nerves. She thought in annoyance. You’re only supposed to kick in during the humiliation.

Finding her way to the refreshment tables, she treated herself to some spiced wine and a bit of pheasant. For the rest of the evening she managed, though barely, to steer clear of Rosaline and Guildria. From that she could tell, Lady Lynnette was not present, an observation that calmed her nerves a little. In her opinion, dealing with Lady Lynette was a punishment far worse than dealing with Zayric and Rosaline put together. To her surprised, several young men approached her and asked for her hand in the next dance, which she accepted with confusion but without complaint. Of all the people she danced with, though, she still esteemed Zayric as the best. He was the most interesting conversationalist, too.

Ten minutes to midnight, she made her way back to the Zayric statue when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Leaving so soon?” Zayric asked, his grey eyes hard to read behind his mask.

“Yes, I must, I’m sorry to say. If I stay out past midnight I fear I shall turn into a frog.”

“A frog?” Zayric repeated, with a hint of a laugh in his voice. “My, my, but that would be a pity. You do, however, have a few more minutes until that hour. It would be dreadfully poor taste for you to offer me the opening dance of this ball and decline the closing one.”

“Why prince Zayric! If you just go gallivanting around being so polite to ladies as to insult their tastes for not dancing with you, I fear you’ll have a wife before the end of the night!”

Zayric took her hand and placed it on his shoulder, firmly putting his hand upon her waist. “All right then. If that’s how you see it, I shall offer you no choice.” He told her, beginning the dance.

Liza followed suit. “Wicked dictator.” She murmured jestingly.

Zayric’s eyes flashed with what Liza originally feared to be anger, but she was stunned to see the full smile on his face. “That would be wicked dictator sir.”

“Oh yes. Of course. How rude of me.” 

“Really, you must learn manners, Ellyra. I was quite sure you had them before. Apparently I was wrong.”

“It would seem that everyone can make a slight misjudgment now and again.” Liza observed. And the only reason you’re not judging me tonight is because you think I’m a lady. I wonder how you’d treat me if you knew that I’m not? This thought caused what felt like a lead ball to appear in the pit of Liza’s stomach, and she chased it immediately from her head.

“I spoke to my father.” Zayric said. “There’s to be another ball in a week. It’ll be smaller. Your invitation will arrive shortly.”

“Are you inviting my sisters?” Liza asked curiously, spinning beneath his raised arm.

“Only if you want me to.” Zayric returned. “I’m controlling the guest list this time. Not my father. Well… that’s not entirely true. He must have some input. But you’re definitely coming, on pain of loosing all ten of your most excellent fingers.”

“Ah. Then I see you haven’t forgotten my little slip of the tongue.”

“Certainly not. A good prince never forgets a wrong and always repays a debt.”

“And what about favors?”

“That’s where the ‘debt’ part comes in. Good gracious Ellyra. Perhaps you really will become a frog at midnight. Your cleverness seems to be waning.”

“That’s not what I meant. What about those favors that the prince doesn’t know he’s being paid?”

Zayric hesitated. “I don’t know what the policy is for those.”

“Mm. Then perhaps it’s best left alone.” The last chord was played and Eliza slowly drew away from her partner. “I must away now.” She told him apologetically, curtsying.

“Oh, yes. Of course.” He bowed low. “I’ll see you next week, then.”

“I look forward to it, humble prince.” She said with a sad smile.

“As do I, fingerless lady.

 

*

 

            Chancellor Larch made quick strides to Cadagi’s chamber, where he’d sent a message for his minion to rendez-vous with him. The dawn was barely breaking, but Larch ignored the fantastic pastel colors of the sunrise, and wrapped sharply on Cadagi’s door. The other fairy opened, mid-yawn, and blinked sleepily. “Lord Larch?” He yawned again, covering his mouth with a thin, bony hand.

            “Wake up Cadagi. We have important business to discuss.” Larch hurried his minion into the room where he locked the door tightly.

            “Business that couldn’t wait until a more pleasant hour of the morning?” Cadagi grumped in annoyance. “I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep since—”

            “This is more important than your sleep.” Larch insisted gruffly. “I’ve been up all night thinking and I’ve finally worked out a plan. But everything hangs on this.” He lowered his voice a bit. “Do you still have that alliance with Baron Sellworth?”

            “Ummm, yes. He’s pro-war, as well. Why do you ask?”

            “He’s a shape-shifter, correct? He can take any form he wants to?”

            “Any form with wings. What’s the point of all this?”

            “Any form with wings.” Larch repeated, tapping his chin. “That could work. Yes. Yes! It would definitely work!”

            “What would work, Chancellor Larch?” Cadagi cut in impatiently. “Don’t tell me you woke me up this early just to confuse me with cryptic though processes.”

            “Lord Larch, Cadagi.” Larch growled, suddenly fierce.

            Cadagi winced at his error. “Yes. Lord Larch. A thousand apologies, sir.”

            “You’re forgiven. For now. But if we can get Sellworth on our side, then it won’t matter if Prince Cypress dies of the poisoning or not.”

            “It won’t?” Cadagi gasped, his eyes budging. 

            Larch shook his head vigorously. “No. This plan has more variables, but it’ll do the trick. If the poisoning succeeds, excellent. Less work for us. But this way, we may even be able to get rid of that impertinent Tamarisk, and he’s a loose end we don’t need floating around. He knows too much and he’s too clever. If at all possible he should be eliminated.”

            “But how are you possibly—”

            Chancellor Larch’s thin lips curled into a malicious smirk. “Patience, Cadagi. Sit down and I’ll reveal to you the first few steps of the plan. The rest is just a matter of time.”  

 

*

 

Liza barely had time to get in the door before Tam’s eyes were cutting swiftly through the darkness, focusing on her.

“Oh Tam, you were right! I had the most wonderful time!”

“I’m glad of that Eliza but right now you really need to get up to Ellyra’s room.”

Liza paled and quickly reached up to untie her mask. “She’s coughing up blood?”

Though she couldn’t see it clearly, she assumed that Tam was shaking his head. “No.” He said grimly, grasping her hand and leading her stumbling feet up the stairs. “She’s enraged. She’s violent. And Eliza… she’s seeing things that aren’t there.”

 

Author's Note

This might be my longest chapter and it's one of my favorite ones. There's a whole lot in it, which kind of worries me, but breaking it up into little pieces make the chapters too short. I had great fun writing the ball scene (especially the Zayric-Eliza dialogue), but I fear that it comes off as too... something. Cliche maybe? I don't know. Thoughts?

Reviews

[Hannah!]

I don't know if I'd say clich� so much as...traditional? I'm not going to say that it was wildly original, but it was interesting, and the dialogue was really well written. I liked seeing Zayric warm up for a change--I was surprised that he didn't figure out that it was Eliza behind the mask, not Ellyra. I love the relationship between Eliza and Zayric. They're so well suited for each other--who else could keep him in check when he climbed onto his high horse? It's also admirable how slowly you developed it; I always want to rush into romance with my characters, and that never turns out well.

Grr. I hate that Larch more every time he comes back into the story. Stupid jerkface.

Also, don't worry about the length of this chapter. It's long, but not so long that it becomes boring to read. Anyway, I'm not sure how you could possibly break it up in a way that made sense.

I do have one small suggestion: You might want to have Eliza's return to the castle take place AFTER Larch and Cardagi's conversation, so that it's the last thing in the chapter. It's fine as it is, but cliffhangers are a useful device, and it'd end on a much more suspenseful note if you got the two bad guys out of the way first.