“I can’t say I wouldn’t be pleased with that outcome. But I know you well enough not to raise my hopes too high. If she’s seen with someone unknown, it will intrigue others. Perhaps enough to talk to her and find her a suitable replacement for you.”
“A pragmatic plan; I shouldn’t have expected less from you.”
“Thank you, my prince. But there is one other obstacle, I’m afraid.”
“And what’s that?”
“Prince Consort Heinrich, will be attending the masquerade as well.”
“Who?” Erich asked.
Ivar cleared his throat. “During a diplomatic dinner in Sundland, you, um, punched him in the nose.”
“Did I?” Ah. Now he remembered. Prince Consort Heinrich, a fledgling duke who didn’t know how to keep his hands to himself. Erich caught him harassing a maid, and when she’d tried to push him away, and then Duke Heinrich had persisted, Erich made the point clear for him.
“Well, in any case, I’m sure he remembers you, because he’s made it impossible for me to see the empress despite all my best efforts. If the two of you cross paths, I fear the repercussions.”
He never wanted to hurt Ivar. If there were any other way, he wouldn’t have asked for a favor. But he had no choice.
“I’ll be as silent as a grim.”
Ivar frowned.
“Remember Soccicio?” Erich touched his nose.
“Do not make me regret helping you...” Ivar sighed.
6
Heart rattling in her chest, Liane peeked around the curtain. The loose, glimmering layers of Aristea’sgown fluttered as she glided across the stage. With the audience’s rapt attention upon her, no one would notice Liane fumbling in the background. Inhale and then exhale; she could do this. Pacing, she shook out her hands, hoping it would ease her nerves. On the opposite end of the stage wing, Mistress Eleanor gave the signal, and the dancers dutifully trotted out, followed by Liane, a fake smile plastered on her face. She could do it. She could do it...
Stage lights blinded her as she stepped out and froze in place as her scar throbbed. She couldn’t remember the steps, and her soul vacated her body, leaving her to watch from above as a casual observer while dancers flowed around her, parting as water moved around a boulder dropped into a river. Beyond the dazzling light, she could see a sea of masked courtiers, cold and uncaring expressions watching her failure.
Then a warm hand grasped hers, and the ice around her limbs thawed. Liane slammed back into her body, suddenly aware of all the dancers turned to face her, and Aristea, who stood with her back to the crowd smiling at Liane.
Lianemouthed, “What are you doing?”
“Keep your eyes on me,” Aristea whispered before tugging her after her.
As young children, she and Aristea used to dance in the nursery together, spinning around and around, their limbs moving seemingly without reason. But they knew each step by heart and had painstakingly memorized their childish choreography to perform for their parents. Grasping onto Aristea’s hands and whirling together, her body remembered that dance and took over, impossibly falling into sync with Aristea. Accompanied by orchestral music, Liane in midnight blue and silver, the shadow to Aristea’s golden sun, the dance felt more sophisticated and refined than it had in those days, or perhaps it was the childlike joy that bubbled up within Liane to replace her fear.
Their song reached its climax, and hand in hand, they struck the final pose to uproarious applause. Panting for breath and her back aching, Liane wiped her sweat-plastered hair from her forehead and cheeks but couldn’t keep the smile from her face. Thank the stars above for Aristea’s quick thinking, or the performance would’ve been ruined. The curtains closed, and dancers rushed over, chittering about the change in choreography, words dripping with praise. Even Mistress Eleanor didn’t seem entirely displeased.
“Thanks for that,” Liane said, when they were alone again.
“Don’t mention it. I know you’d do the same for me,” Aristea said as she accepted a towel from a servant and delicately dabbed at her brow.
“That is if you ever made a mistake.”
Aristea laughed. “I make plenty of them.”
Just one, Liane thought, but she wouldn’t mention it and ruin the mood. Luzie arrived to usher Liane into a dressing room to change into her masquerade outfit: a simple emerald gown with a rose mask and matching flower crown. Futzing over her headpiece and the fall of her curls, Luzie met her eyes in the mirror.
“I have a good feeling about tonight,” she said.
“Me too,” Liane replied while her stomach did somersaults.
The plan was simple: meet Duke Licht before slipping away to the ruins, catch the criminals, and return before the masquerade ended. With a squeeze of her shoulders, Luzie left, and Liane went to join her family for the grand entrance.
