Page 5 of Henrikk’s Masquerade

The large hall was magnificent, the walls swathed in Henrikk’s banners—blood-red, the colour of vampires. The guests wore colourful, extravagant costumes that glittered beneath the crystal chandeliers. Some glowed with colourful mage lights, but only some; without the witches to maintain them, many magical items in the castle had ceased functioning as they ought to. It was why some of the chandeliers now bore candles, although evidently, no one had thought to add plates or bobeches to stop the wax from dripping down onto the guests.

Asher felt the pitter-patter of wax as he passed underneath. He glanced up, only to hiss as a hot blob stung his cheek. On second thought, he didn’t mind the sensation, and was intensely curious how Henrikk would react to the feel of hot wax oozing and setting along his porcelain skin.

Would probably bitch and complain, Asher thought with a wry smile. He kept an eye out for Henrikk as he circled the edges of the ballroom.

The magical instruments that had once played music had been replaced with a string quartet. Asher found he preferred seeing real musicians, even if they were partially hidden by a screen.

The room was hot and noisy with activity, and Asher gravitated towards the windows. He wiped the condensation from a window pane with his sleeve to give himself something to do and peered out into the night. It was difficult to see, but the golden glow spilling through the glass caused the snow blanketing the grounds to sparkle. He could dimly make out the dark silhouette of leaves rustling in the wind.

It was no wonder the patio was deserted.

Asher slowly walk around the room’s peripheries, keeping his eyes peeled for Henrikk or any guards who might recognise him more easily.

A couple of red-faced guests giggled and stopped him along the way.

“Who might you be, eh?” hiccuped a middle-aged vampiress with a ruddy face.

“Oh, gosh, you’re so tall!” said a younger woman admiringly, squeezing his bicep.

Asher smiled wordlessly, offering polite nods, but he never broke stride.

One nobleman even mistook him for the king when his hood slipped. Cursing under his breath, Asher stepped behind a pillar to adjust his hood and ensure his distinctive blond hair was covered.

“General Asher. Hiding, are we?” drawled a voice.

Asher whipped around, expecting to see Henrikk, even though the voice wasn’t quite right, and found himself face-to-face with Prince Nathaniel. He had to be the only person not wearing a masquerade mask.

“Your Highness,” Asher greeted. “You recognised me.”

“With some difficulty, if that makes you feel any better,” Nathaniel said, joining him behind the pillar. “I did not expect the cape.”

“But you had a hand in designing the rest of my outfit,” Asher surmised, peering at Nathaniel for confirmation.

“I did. We can’t make it too easy for my father to find you in this brouhaha.”

“I’m surprised you helped me at all.”

“Well, don’t take it personally,” Nathaniel said in a flat tone. He examined his fingers, long and slender like his father’s. “Well, don’t take it personally. My father has the full arsenal of the castle at his disposal. It seemed only fair you have someone helping you too.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. I fear the effort will be for nothing—my presence will give you away.” Nathaniel nodded over his shoulder. Asher followed his gaze and spotted a gaggle of pretty vampiresses giggling and whispering as they peered at them from behind masks and fluttering ornate fans.

“Your admirers,” Asher noted.

Nathaniel sniffed. “Hardly. More of a fan club, of sorts.”

Asher bit back a response. When it came to Nathaniel, he could never decide if the prince was actually arrogant or if he was simply emulating his father’s behaviour to fit in.

The prince spoke. “I felt it was time we talked. And what could be more discreet than the appearance of idle chit-chat, here in front of all these people?”

Asher understood at once. Nathaniel had not been able to visit him without alerting Henrikk’s spies. This was the safest mode of communication: in a crowded room where everybody could converse freely.

Asher gave an exaggerated laugh for the benefit of anyone watching, and Nathaniel gave him a bone-chilling smile. An outsider might have thought they were simply enjoying the festivities.

“Did the witch get away safely?” Asher asked under his breath. He’d been dying to know the answer, and this was the first chance he’d had to speak with the prince.

“Yes,” Nathaniel replied simply. “And I’m here to offer you the same opportunity.”