The ballroom shined brighter than a star at its heart.
The marble floor was polished to perfection, emulating Ailyn's nostalgic grimace as she scanned the area. The walls were graced with delicate swirls of burnished gold and frames of kings and queens, nobles, dated faces. The ceiling soared to a glamorous dome, and the music from the ensemble at the corner of the room bounced on its surface and echoed throughout the room. Most of all, the twirling figures dancing and lingering in the middle of the ballroom were the most impressive ornaments of the palace tonight. She saw every texture she could fathom; satin skirts with lustrous beads and sparkles stitched on their edges, crimson velvet bodices with trimmings of lace adorning their tops, vibrant tweed waistcoats that clinched to the torso in the most flattering manner.
In the same glamorous hall, however, danced peasants, the forgotten children of the kingdom. Their clothes weren't brilliant nor beautiful; they were dressed in scraps, rags they had probably ripped from their huts' tattered curtains. They were like dirt against a gleaming plate of silver, a stray line in a beautiful painting. Still, despite the glaring fact that they were unwanted, the poor wore brilliant grins that far outshined the contrived smiles of the nobles.
It was like a slap in the face of the court. Your palace isn't impenetrable. The triumphant thought crossed Ailyn's mind, as well, as she roamed across the hall.
Nobody cared enough to stop her for a chat, or perhaps a round of waltzing. Her dress was pitiful compared to what she would have worn, had the Kingfisher not vanished. She could almost still imagine how the night would have flowed, her graceful figure standing beside Kage, talking like nothing had happened. The glittering fantasy soon turned sour.
She used to feel love for him. Its pulses dictated her every move, every blink of her lids. That affection had curled into hatred, which she had quickly uncrumpled into what she hoped would resemble love again. Yet now she only felt sorry for the Prince of Shadows.
He, too, walked these tiles, somewhere else in the vast room. And for the first time since Ailyn could remember, she couldn't care less.
The music ended with a grand swish of the strings' bows, followed by a series of quiet claps. The bard was nowhere to be seen; understandably, this early at night, he was possibly getting wasted in a tavern nearby. But not even he would be able to fill the void the three hijacked instruments had left. Not many seemed to get riled up about it, but it was clear everyone noticed.
With a sigh of weariness, Ailyn consumed another fried dough specialty of the chef. Her anxiety had reduced to an obnoxious prickling in her chest, outweighed by the wave of exhaustion overwhelming her bones. The disappointingly unappetizing food didn't seem to be doing much for that, despite her best efforts.
"Can I have this dance, miss?"
Ailyn slowly lifted her head. Her eyes fell on a young man, not much older than her, with faded blonde hair concealing the top of his blue mask. It wasn't difficult to tell why he had chosen her as his dancing partner; his loose clothes were definitely not tailored and the fingers of his extended hand were ragged. A worker's hands. The girl let the unfinished treat on the table beside her and smiled at the man. A little exercise couldn't harm her. "Certainly."
The notes that reached her ears as she let the man lead her to the center of the hall were slow, mournful. Another waltz. She almost wanted to believe that she would have forgotten the comically simple steps of the dance, yet as her partner started moving, so did her feet. The piece was written in a major scale, yet its slow pace, its twirls around the main note; everything made it seem more nostalgic than intended.
The man didn't talk, so neither did she. The silent moment of waltzing they shared was enough company to alleviate the loneliness in her. The music gradually got louder, with sharps and flats tainting the clean surface of the major chords. For a moment, Ailyn could connect it with her own past life; happy, pretentious, ignoring the yawning void her parents had left. The only samples of her mourning were the scarce impulsive tears that ran down her cheeks as she tried to sleep, or the sudden waves of grief that muffled her energy almost completely.
Now, dressed in shreds and dancing with a peasant she knew nothing about, Ailyn couldn't possibly imagine how she managed to live every day as a ruler. Kage was quite in favor of authoritarianism, and what little power Ailyn was willing to give up he took. Yet the glamorous facade bore more weight than signing a few papers and building some settlements. A sick part of her — which was starting to seem much more sensical than her conscious mind — felt that weight vanish into thin air with this mission, giving place to overwhelming relief.
The man finally looked at her, a playful grin stretching his lips. "Who do you think you'll land on?"
"What?"
"On the partner switch."
Ailyn was slightly stunned to find that she had, in fact, forgotten some parts of the dance. The partner switch always spawned a twitch of anxiety in her stomach, and it certainly didn't make an exception of this time.
"Hopefully someone rich," she replied, trying to emulate the man's smile. "And silent."
The man laughed, giving the back of her shoulder a quick squeeze. "I wish you good luck in your search for prosperity."
She wondered if he would talk to her this way, had he known who she was. What a monster she had become.
Not a minute later, the blonde man let go of her arm and swirled into another woman's embrace. For what felt like endless hours, Ailyn stood in that cold side of the ballroom. She didn't know where to turn, who to dance with. How delighted and miserable she felt, having forgotten what used to be her daily life.
A hand grasped her elbow.
Startled, she looked behind her shoulder. Any kind of disconnection from the horrible reality she had felt before withered down towards its roots.
She knew he wouldn't wear a mask. Of course. Why would he, anyway? Ailyn was starting to realize the irony the masquerade possessed, the implications, the cost. It meant that everyone was eager to conceal their identity, to cower behind a mask, but not the Ascended Council.
His pleasant smile plummeted into a deep frown. "Ailyn?" Edel whispered, the betrayal he had felt weeks ago surging back to the surface of his clouded fawn eyes.
Panic welled in her chest. Abruptly, she shoved her hand in his and hissed, "Let's dance."
The next one was fast, roaring into a minor key as the dancers bowed before each other. Ailyn's body was frigid as she leaned into a quick curtsy and begged her limbs not to tremble. Her commands were ignored. Edel himself seemed distraught, ready to abandon the ballroom, yet as the dancers stormed into the quick waltz, he had no choice but to get in position and do the same.
"Has this cursed situation driven you completely insane?" he muttered lowly, doing his best to keep a cheerful expression on his face. Ailyn wished he could keep smiling more than anything, for her sake and his, yet he didn't seem to be succeeding.
They whirled around other couples as the waltz sped up. The white mask she had worn had felt sufficient before; now, under the meticulous stare of the Prince of Nature, she felt positively stripped of any disguise. "I won't ask you to understand, Edel, but please don't get in my way." She stared at him, her gaze burning into his own. "I can't promise your safety."
He pushed her in a spin with more force than needed before pulling her back to face her. "Were you always this trenchant or am I hallucinating?"
Ailyn scoffed. "Excuse me for adapting."
"If it is madness you are adapting to I am reluctant to do so."
Her mind did the noble courtesy of compiling a list with all the chaos that could ensue after the final note. Would Edel reveal her identity? Would he tell her to run and then give her away? It was impossible to tell by his complicated expressions, his twisted mouth and his compassionate eyes, his set jaw and the wrinkles rippling across his forehead.
"What really is madness" she finally whispered, "is Kage's plan. How can you not see this is suicide?"
"I can, Ailyn, trust me," he hissed. His eyes were narrow, agitated, exhausted. "But we have no other choice. Kage is selfish, yes, but this suicide you speak of has brought us a long way. What have you done for us this period?"
Edel's insults weren't his default, yet when he let some of them roll out of his mouth they stung worse than any bullet. Her answer was just as fast and painful. "I found a purpose outside of this court," she retorted, nodding to all the futile splendor surrounding them. "And I saw what kind of monsters it manufactures."
After a moment of rumination, the prince stared at her in disbelief. "Are you still angry about that?"
"I feel no hatred, Edel. All I feel for him now," she breathed, trying to keep the bitterness from entering her tone, "is pity."
The waltz came to an end with an imperfect cadence. Fitting, Ailyn thought as Edel shook his head, his brows knitted and his lips releasing sighs instead of words. It didn't take any amount of genius to understand what was would occur. She spun around, taking long strides across the polished floor.
"Wait," Edel yelled. Nobles turned to glance at the two curiously, bringing a flinch to Ailyn's already tense features. She hastened her step, yet she felt as if her figure remained on the same tile of the vast hall, no matter how desperately she wanted to escape.
Not now. Not after all this way, she begged the gods, the saints, anybody who was hearing. But, for the thousandth time, they declared their side in this war with consuming silence.
She knew it was coming. Somehow, she still felt the slap of betrayal. "Ailyn!" he called, his voice resonating across the ballroom.
The guests of the ball heard the news in layers. Theirs heads snapped around like falling dominos, one after the other, until the last person was staring at her in confused shock. Even the soft music screeched to a halt. Once again, she was the center of attention. And once again, she would do what she was best at; run.
The glimmering silver armor of the guards rushing towards her spoiled her sporadic fleeing. She knew she would never make it past the door anyway, yet she thought she would at least be granted the privilege of an attempt. They closed in, their hands stretched out as if they were handling a mad dog. Her feet faltered back as her pulse starting racing. There was one way to escape the situation, an absolute last resort.
Yet as she felt a pair of hands seized her shoulders, all the possible escape routes narrowed down to the utter worst.
"Get away," she hissed. It was a quiet warning, too subdued for any of the guards to care. As carefully as she could, she released the leash of the dark power boiling in her, ready to spill out of the pot. Finally, she allowed it. The lights around them twitched into blackness, drawing screams from the audience to her great act. Darkness curled out of her, enveloping the guards and anyone in close proximity, stifling them.
The grand finale never failed to impress. Her sickly, pale skin slowly begun glowing as a wave of adrenaline rushed through her veins. The screams were quieter this time, more distant than before. The feeling of foreign life seeping into her made her skin crawl, but she was left with no other choice. She didn't intend to kill them; a strong sleep would work for her.
She felt alive, electrified in the worst way possible. Her energy was quickly cut short as a heavy grip landed on her shoulder.
The glow suddenly vanished. She slumped to her knees, coughing as all the stolen life was sucked out of her. No, she realized, it is being neutralized. Fighting fire with water and light with darkness was not something she ever had in him, but clearly she was not the only one having gone through life changes.
The bland, dull reality set back in as the dim candles were slowly rekindled. Her breath turned heavy and her lids dropped as the hand squeezed her shoulderblade tighter. Whether it was hatred, longing, sorrow, or happiness he tried to convey, she wasn't sure. As her head leaned back, she met the two golden eyes she hoped she would only ever witness again in the afterlife.
His eyes were scorching. His jaw was clenched. And his smile; its bitterness held a tone of melancholy.
***
I'm so late for work but I had to publish this!
Alright, I might be a day late, but I will still try to update today, as well. Wish me good luck! I am also getting fat writing these, the amount of cookies I've consumed over the span of this book is actually worrying
Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Please consider voting and commenting, it really helps me ♥
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