Whispers and Shadows

Chapter 10

Mikael

Two years later

“Letter, sire.”

I looked up from my books, noting the young face of Gnalos, my personal valet, as he walked through the door of my study.

“Set it on my desk, then leave.” I flicked a hand at the edge of the desk.

I was behind on my work by weeks; there’d been a crop shortage in the easternmost region that’d taken me far too long to settle. I still had to look over the ledgers for last month’s harvest, and finally decide what I meant to do with the matter of recognizing a new baron. But the moment I saw the blood seal upon the letter, I grinned.

Setting everything else aside, I snatched up the letter and touched my thumb to the wax seal. As always I was awed by the power, yet simplicity, of her spell.

Magic was revered in Demonia, but only magic performed by the Arcane tower. Her kind of magic, born of both light and darkness, was taboo. In fact it was considered treason for her to practice it. Damian had known that, yet he’d allowed her to return to the middle lands often enough to nurture her power.

The letter turned to ash, and in its place, glowing blue runes hung in the air. Her magic was light.

I smiled, tracing the shapes of the runes. Only I could read her notes; I knew because I’d tested the strength of her spell on many of my servants. Everyone read the runes as something completely different than what was written, and all of it was benign.

But I would protect her anonymity at all costs. Blue was the daughter of my enemy; thus she was the enemy of my people, as far as they knew. That would not change, or not for now anyway. No one could know I received intel from her.

True to her word she’d kept me apprised of all that she did. Each assassination she performed, each noble she spoke with, right down to Damian’s every move.

Her letters were polite, concise, and to the point.

And I was starting to resent that.

It’d been two years since our fateful meeting; she’d not returned since and hadn’t yet called for me. She simply kept me apprised, and I had begun to suspect that her formality was intended to annoy me.

I snorted. Me, a prince, wishing to be called upon by my hated rival’s bastard. I must be out of my mind.

Then again I’d never met anyone as stimulating as her. I kept track of her through my other spies, though none of them knew that. Instead I’d read between the lines, and caught glimpses of where my mesmerizing co-conspirator did her secret work.

When I read her note this time, however, I couldn’t keep from grinning.

“The little bird finally calls for me. Gnalos!” I cried with a slap of my hand on my desk.

My obedient servant dashed into the room less than a second later. “Master?”

“Tell the maids to ready my wardrobe and bags; Prince Damian is to host a ball in honor of the emperor’s Coronation Day Jubilee.”

Prince Damian hadn’t bothered to issue me an invitation, even knowing that every other prince would attend. It would have been a great dishonor if I hadn’t shown.

Until a few years ago I’d never thought about the pet Prince Damian had kept on such a tight leash, but lately, she seemed to be all I could think about. My unsolvable riddle.

I snatched up my cane and headed toward the kitchen.

~*~

Blue

The ball was finally at hand, and the great hall had been completely transformed. It was not by magic but by the hands of dutiful servants who had worked day and night to ensure this event would be the crowning glory of the Southern kingdom.

In my previous life Father had received a massive boon when his father, the reclusive Emperor Claude, made a rare showing. Several of the unattached houses had also finally pledged their allegiance to Father because of the emperor’s obvious esteem.

Father had secured a powerful network of allies in that time.

Prince Mikael, however, had lost favor with even some of his staunchest supporters for not making an appearance. It was ridiculous how a single missed ball could have caused him to lose so much support, but that was the way of the nobility. That night had been a great victory for Father.

I’d not issued an invitation to Prince Mikael; I’d merely done my duty as a citizen of the empire and had alerted him to all the facts. Knowing the prince as I now did, it was easy to see why he’d not heard of the jubilee in the first timeline. Prince Mikael was a natural recluse who tended to live in his library, so he rarely made a fuss at events. Missing out on a ball or two was normally nothing to a noble of his status. Except when it came to the emperor’s jubilee.

I gazed at myself in the mirror while my temporary attendant Mahtilda stared at me. I didn’t often go to balls or social functions, so Father had only assigned me one full-time servant: Dahpne, but she wasn’t versed in make-up or hair. Mahtilda had worked on me a handful of times and knew my style well enough. “How would you like me to style you this evening, Miss?”

Last time I’d dressed in dragon armor, black on black, and covered my face in a mask. I had wished to look intimidating and unapproachable.

I stared at the tumbled mass of my pale blue, nearly-white hair. It curled almost prettily around my elfin face.

“Make me look—” I thought of Prince Mikael, whom I’d not seen in two years. I had to secure my approval with him. I’d shared intel with him and tried to prove myself a useful ally, but I was still unsure whether he was fully “mine.” I had to make him approach me first this time.

“…pretty.”

Youthful and wide-eyed, Mahtilda looked stunned. Her pointed elfin ears burned scarlet at the tips. “Miss? You—”

I nodded, fighting not to fidget while my heart banged like a drum in my chest. I’d never wanted Mahtilda to play with my looks, and I’d gone to great lengths for years to hide my true face in public. I didn’t expect her to work a miracle.

The longer she hesitated, the more I came to regret saying anything. “Forget I said anything, of course that’s impossible,” I groused and she stiffened.

In the middle realm I might be considered passably pretty; an old washerwoman in Hong Kong had even once called me “cute”. But I was too short, too tanned, and too plain amongst the elegance of the dark fae. Perhaps Mahtilda thought the task too tall an order.

I sighed; I had been cruel to the girl without intending to. I had not taken her soul, as I never had for any of the servants, but I knew she still feared me. I tried to speak gently. “I understand. If you do not feel up to it, do not worry.”

She shook her head fiercely, causing a brown curl to slip free of her coif.

“I will not fail you, miss. I vow it to the darkness that binds!”

I looked up at her in surprise. Her eyes shone like I had never seen before, and she wasn’t fidgeting any longer—she was bouncing. She sounded almost… excited?

Despite my misgivings, I smiled. Then I closed my eyes and sat back in the chair; I would let her do whatever she pleased.

At some point I must have lightly dozed off, because the next thing I knew I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder.

Mahtilda whispered, “Miss, wake up. Look.”

I blinked and simply stared at myself, startled by the transformation.

Mahtilda had braided part of my hair, wrapping it around the crown of my head and allowing the rest to tumble like a wave down my back. The way she’d styled it I almost looked as though I had baby horns.

My heart raced; even my face looked much altered.

She’d applied makeup so that my skin seemed to glow like the purebloods’ did. My lips were rosy red, my cheeks a sweet pink, and my lashes were long and ebony black. I didn’t recognize the woman staring back at me.

“Witchcraft,” I whispered, and she beamed.

“You said to make you pretty, miss.” Her smile was wide and her face glowed with satisfaction. “But the truth is, you already are.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind my rounded ear. I went to untuck it, but she shook her head. “You are not one of them, miss. And it’s good to remind them of that.”

Then she grabbed a pair of brilliant sapphire earrings the shape of teardrops, and she slid them into my ears.

When Dahpne saw how Mahtilda had arranged my hair, she quickly replaced the heavy dragon’s armor she’d likely expected me to want to use with something I’d never dared to wear before. I clutched my robe in my hands, nerves twisting up my insides.

When Dahpne returned she carried a ballgown with her, and she looked like she’d waited her whole life for this moment. It was all-black, and had blood-red diamonds threaded throughout so that it winked in the light. The front was low-cut with my back completely exposed, and the dress cinched tight at the waist.

I hardly knew what to think. In the other timeline I had taken great pain to downplay my femininity, knowing that my tainted blood meant I had no value beyond the work I could do for my father.

Dahpne shook the gown at me. “It’s black, miss.”

She sounded almost apologetic, like she’d deliberately chosen something dark to still help me maintain an edge. Problem was, though I was surrounded by dark fae, they rarely wore black. Most women tended to wear white, so as to make their creamy pale skin look even more pale and luminescent.

Soon enough I was squeezed into the gown that felt both foreign and somehow right. I studied myself in the full-length mirror amazed that the pretty woman staring back at me was really me. But as nice as I looked it still wasn’t quite right.

“Remove the epaulets from the armor, Dahpne, and place them on me. I am not pureblood, after all; let’s remind them of that.”