Mask of Shadows (Untitled #1)(65)

I nodded, no idea about what was popular.

“Let’s make me Opal.”

Maud grinned. “Perfect.”

She rubbed woody, herb-scented oil through my hair, drew a line of thin rouge across my bottom lip, and lined my eyes with black—to make the dark circles more accent than exhaustion.

“Don’t stab me in the eye.” I stared up while she worked. “I’m already bad enough at archery without having to relearn how to aim.”

Maud finished and fanned my face. “If you wanted to be really fashionable, I could draw the runes like Our Queen’s. They look nothing like the real thing, but everyone’s doing it.”

“No.” I shuddered. Words and cosmetics were one thing, but runes were a world I wanted no part of. Magic had no place on my skin, even if it was gone. “No runes.”

“No runes.” She carefully pulled my mask over my hair and face. “Aren’t you glad you trusted me to do my job?”

“You say that like you’re insulting me.” I wiggled my nose, eyes itching but too afraid of Maud to rub them.

Maud shrugged. She circled me and pinned each spot that needed it. The shirt was easy, smooth and light against my sore side, and the coat was heavy over my shoulders. Maud didn’t mention the ink on my arms and hands, and I didn’t wash it off. I straightened the long sleeves of the coat, everything coming together. Ink crackled like fire against my skin.

I was Sallot Leon—one of the last children of Nacea, orphan and street fighter, highway thief and Twenty-Three. I was steps away from being Opal, a figure of power flushing out the Erlend lords. I’d carried the weight of what they’d done for so long, and now I could repay them for the long list of names they’d left me with. I’d take their safety, their homes, their heads. They’d made me an orphan and only child, made my name sound foreign on my own tongue and useless to the ones who’d already forgotten Nacea had lived.

I would make them remember, and only then would I let them die.

“How do I look now?” I asked, loose and sure. I’d made mistakes and I wasn’t Opal yet, but Two and Five would not hold me back.

“Needs more thief-turned-rakish-deadly-lord.” She pulled a wooden sheath inlaid with a spiral of crushed, jagged shells from her pocket and hooked it to my belt. “Didn’t open though, so could be a wooden dagger.”

I smiled. “Thank you for thinking of it.” Thank you for being patient while I learned to trust you. “Going weaponless would not have been great.”

“Nails!” Maud clapped and dropped to her bag, digging to the bottom. She shoved a small pot into my hands. “Hold this.”

I unscrewed the lid. “Rakish-deadly lord, not fancy courtier.”

“You can be both.” She straightened up, a tiny brush in hand. “Nearly everyone does it. It’s a miracle anyone’s got nails left after all of them trying to copy Emerald.” She snatched the pot back and started painting my nails with a smoky orange oil. “Dimas does it all the time, and it looks lovely on him. You’ve got the same long fingers.”

“How much time you spend looking at his hands?”

She lightly pinched my wrist. “Hold still and let it dry. I’ll cut the tips from your extra gloves.”

I rolled onto my heels, getting used to the feeling of the clothes and going over how to properly eat with nobles in my head. Maud helped me pull the gloves over my fingers.

“But really,” I said softly, “how do I look?”

“Good.” Maud circled me, lips set in a serious line, and smoothed out the bottom hem of the coat so it flared behind me in a wake of gold and white. “You look like Opal.”





Thirty-Eight


Maud led me to dinner. The scars I’d gained from years of running and fighting were bare under the wide collar of the shirt, and the sheath jostled softly against my thigh, a familiar weight in the middle of everything else. My real knives were tucked into my boots. I looked nothing like the Sal who’d showed up at auditions. Let them see me as more than that.

“You’re serving yourself like a casual meal, and the Left Hand has Dimas in charge of the room—no servants until you all leave,” Maud said. “It’ll just be you six.”

“Thank you.” I glanced once more at her, swallowing the fluttering in my throat. “I look all right?”

“You won’t if you ask me that again.” She smiled. “I was joking about the scars, but you’re pulling them off. Now stop. It’s my job to make you look good, and it’s insulting that you think I failed.”

I snorted. “See you after.”

The dining hall door creaked open. I took a breath, squaring my shoulders and straightening my spine, and took one step over the threshold.

Shit.

I was supposed to wait for them to invite me into the room. I bowed anyway, feet apart and arms at my side. A splash of red light sparkled across my feet.

“Good evening,” Ruby said. “Six out of ten—sloppy bow.”

I gritted my teeth and stood. Of course he was grading us still. My footsteps echoed over the stone floors, and Ruby gestured to the two empty chairs at the table. I sat across from Amethyst.

“And Twenty-Three.” Emerald raised her glass to me, the delicate glass stem green as the silk dress draped around her. She wore a crown of purple oleander. “Welcome.”