Mask of Shadows (Untitled #1)(84)

Good. Keep talking.

Winter shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Five ripped off Ruby’s mask and punched him.

“This is it?” Ruby laughed and spat out a tooth. “We at least thought you were going for an assassination, but revenge?”

Five punched him again, and Ruby’s neck snapped back.

“This is petty!” Ruby cackled, a spray of pink coloring the air with each word. “All that work for this?”

I shuddered as Ruby’s high-pitched, echoing laughter rang in my ears. Five sucked in a breath, shoulders rising, and I knew that look, knew the tightness of his muscles and shuddering desire for vengeance in his fingers. I lunged, and he slashed his sword. Blood splattered across my face.

I slammed the water glass into Five’s temple, ducked, and ripped a knife from his side. He crumbled.

“I’d scream, but you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Ruby slammed a shoulder into Five, knocking him back to the floor, and rose to his knees. His right hand hung from his wrist, fingers still and tendons snapped. The left arm was red as dawn and soaked. No magic left to stitch the artery shut. No chance he’d live through this night. “Your brother Celso screamed. I thought his throat would tear with so much sobbing, but he kept going, one new curse for each new cut till I took his head. And not one word was an apology to his shadows’ victims.”

I kicked Five’s sword away from him. He opened his mouth, hands reaching for his knives, and I jammed my stolen blade into his neck. He fell to his knees, gurgling. Ruby turned toward the sword.

“You’re terrible.” Ruby groaned and collapsed against me. “Never discard better weapons.”

“Knife down.” Winter leveled Five’s sword with my heart, stance perfect—everything Ruby always demanded I be—and stepped forward. “You’re what happened to my handkerchief, aren’t you?”

Ruby sighed. No world without magic could return the blood he’d lost. He looked at me, mask gone and face smeared with red, dark eyes glazed. He mouthed, “Improvise.”

Winter raised his sword.

Lady, let Elise understand.

I shoved Ruby in front of him. The sword tore through his stomach, ripping a hole from navel to spine. Winter paused, stunned with the blade stuck in Ruby, and I punched his throat. He stumbled. I ripped the knife from Five’s neck and lunged.

“Stop!”

We froze. Winter turned slowly, mouth open in shock. I didn’t, couldn’t look.

“What is this?” Elise asked, breaths coming fast and scared. “What have you done?”





Forty-Eight


The cloying scent of blood-soaked silk seeped through my mask. A steady drip echoed in the silence, keeping my eyes fixed to the growing red stain on Winter’s shoulder. My knife trembled against his neck, nothing between him and death except Elise’s voice. I couldn’t look at her, couldn’t see her face twisted into rage. Winter dropped his arm.

“Elise,” said Winter as Ruby slid off his sword and collapsed at his feet.

“What is this?” She stepped forward, voice breathy and small. Her footsteps were loud in my ears. “Opal?”

I shifted, still and cold under her gaze. Winter sighed.

“Darling, this brute—”

“No, not you,” Elise said quickly. “He knows me better and wouldn’t insult me by lying. His knife may be at your neck, but your sword was in my friend. I know this has nothing to do with Opal or me. Nicolas was the one who was called, but he sent me in his stead.”

Winter stiffened. A flutter of warmth grew in my chest. Of course Elise was smarter than him—she hated politics, but she studied it. She’d know every trick ever used, and she’d handed me the missing piece. They’d wanted Nicolas too.

He’d been right. The shadow kill in the woods was only the start. This was all planned, all connected, and Erlend was making a play for Our Queen’s crown by making her look weak. If she’d never banished magic, if she’d never freed us of the shadows, if she’d let her most trusted advisors bring back those horrors, everyone would hate her. Igna would be no more.

The one person we’d trusted to protect us from monsters had lied all along. That was all Erlend would need to say. Anyone unhappy for any reason—Our Queen’s fault or not—would lose faith.

“So your daughter or your plot?” Elise asked, squaring her shoulders at him.

Winter sighed. “You are too young to remember life under a good ruler. You will understand with time.”

“I’m too young to remember?” Elise laughed, hollow and high, and let out a shuddering breath. “My childhood memories are of soldiers and funeral pyres, air so thick with ash I could taste their souls. And you would bring that back? For what?”

“For us!” Winter stepped back, forcing me to step farther away from Elise too. “We are worse off under that woman than we have ever been, and sacrifices to repair the balance must be made. She would see us ruined.”

“She would see us equal.” Elise, eyes narrowed to furious slits and cheeks flushed, glanced at Isidora. She stared at her, unable to look at Winter. I knew that look, that disgust. “You would throw aside peace hard-won for personal gain, and I will not help you.”