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Regulus leaned against the wall outside their bedroom door, waiting for Adelaide to finish changing. He pulled at the edge of the dark turquoise doublet Adelaide had made. The material was velvety and rich, and not really his style. He would have been satisfied with the black long-sleeved shirt he wore under the doublet, but Adelaide insisted he needed to look the part. At least she wasn’t forcing him to wear hose, just narrow-legged black trousers, and he wasn’t wearing his uniform. He hated that uniform that declared his choices had been stolen.
He rubbed the pommel of his sword. It would make him stand out a little, as the guests would be required to surrender any weapons. But, bewilderingly to Regulus, it wasn’t unheard of for lords to wear fake swords to these events, bladeless hilts attached to empty scabbards, just to keep up appearances. His weapon wouldn’t completely undermine their plan to move unnoticed through the guests, looking for the sorcerer and Carrick.
The bedroom door squeaked open and Regulus pushed off the wall. Adelaide swept out in a matching turquoise dress of the same velvety material as his doublet, her hands behind her back. The wide, low vee of the neckline bared her shoulders. The sleeves split open at the middle of her upper arms and hung to her thighs, lined with satiny gray material. A narrow gray cloth belt embroidered with twisting silver circled her hips, the long ends hanging down in the front. A thin silver chain hung from her neck with a small, teardrop-shaped crystal. Her dark hair fell in loose curls over her shoulders and down her back.
Regulus opened his mouth, but his tongue stuck in place. She smiled. “Tigress got your tongue?”
“You...” His voice cracked and he blushed. He cleared his throat. “You are breathtakingly beautiful. I don’t know that you’ll really be blending in as the prettiest girl there.”
She laughed and pulled two narrow black masks decorated with turquoise swirls from behind her back and gave him the larger one. “You look striking, too, sumdir. Ready?”
“Almost.” He placed his hand on her back and pulled her close, brushing his fingers across her cheek. He sensed her flutter of giddy nerves and anticipation. “I love you, Adelaide Belanger. Whatever happens today, I love you until the sun fails to rise.”
He kissed her, desperately and tenderly. Her hand gripped the side of his neck, her fingers cool against his skin. Between the delight rippling through him and the sensation of her desire, he barely managed to stay standing.
“And I love you, Regulus Hargreaves.” Her eyes shone up at him. “No matter the outcome. Until the sea swallows the land, I love you.”
He kissed her nose between her eyes, then tied on his mask. It only surrounded his eyes, and for a moment he regretted it didn’t hide his scar. But Adelaide liked his scar. He smiled. “Let’s go to a ball.”
They walked arm-in-arm across the servant’s courtyard to the side livestock gate, Adelaide carrying her skirt up to keep it clean. As part of their objective of blending in, they would enter with the other guests, starting their surveillance in the reception line. If they could catch Kirven and Nolan before they even made it into the palace, even better. As they approached the wall, Breck stepped out of the shadowy recess of the closed gate.
“About time you two were leaving. Thought you were going to be late.” His gaze traveled slowly over Adelaide.
Regulus tensed and pressed his hand against his thigh to keep it from curling into a fist. “We’d best be on our way then, sir.”
“The point is for you to blend in.” Breck circled them. “I’m just checking that you look up to the task.” He walked back around and nodded. “I suppose you look like guests, but Belanger’s going to be useless with all the men that will be trying to plaster themselves to her and talk her out of that dress.”
“Sir, we need to join the guests,” Adelaide said, her tone dark.
“All right, all right.” Breck opened one side of the double doors and held it open for them to pass through. He picked the door on Adelaide’s side, so she would have to walk past him. Regulus wanted to move her to his other side, but Breck would find a way to make that into some grave offense. As they passed, Breck said, “Remember, your only concern is to protect the king. Not to see how many nobles you can lure into dark corners.”
“Substitute servant girls for nobles and you’ve given yourself some great advice, sir,” Adelaide said. Regulus nearly tripped over the cobblestones. “See you in the ballroom, sir.”
Breck called her a couple words that made Regulus’ hair stand on end, but Breck turned back inside and slammed the gate closed behind him. Regulus grunted. “So I get scolded for making him angry, but you get to do it?”
She didn’t answer right away. “I’m going to face Kirven and Nolan today. Breck and his pettiness seem pretty insignificant right now.”
“Oh.” He moved his arm around her waist. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m scared, Reg. I’m terrified I’ll fail again.” She looked up. “But I’m determined. I’m ready to face them. For you, for myself, for Father and Mother. For Minerva and Gaius and their unborn baby. For Dresden and Perceval and Estevan and...” She frowned.
“Caleb and Jerrick and Harold,” Regulus said.
She nodded. “Even for Landon and Julia. Even for the rest of my half-siblings. Just because I don’t like them doesn’t mean I want them and their families to live in a world where Kirven is king and might hurt them because of me. But I’m afraid I’ll fail them all.”
Regulus spoke quietly. “You’re not solely responsible for protecting all of Monparth.”
“I think I am. I think we are. And we don’t even have a plan. Just...” She sighed. “Find each other if we see them. Get the staff, kill Kirven and Nolan. That’s not a plan. That’s a goal.”
“Well, think of it this way: without a plan, we don’t have to worry about if things don’t go according to plan.”
She scowled. “That’s the worst attempt at positivity I’ve ever heard.”
He smiled. “Sorry. Why do you think I keep Caleb around?”
“And I thought you just liked his music,” she said with a laugh.
They rounded the front of the palace walls and found the reception line already stretched to the front gate. Men and women of all ages in ornate outfits and masks of every color stood gossiping and laughing. Regulus scanned the crowd as they joined the line. The masks further complicated their task. Everyone had tried to talk the king into at least changing the party so it wasn’t a masque, but the king said that would signal that something was wrong, and he didn’t want to worry his people or alert Kirven. Regulus believed the king was an idiot, but he was also the king, so idiocy ruled the day.
A group of three men in their early twenties stood in front of them, chortling and holding small open flasks. Apparently, they’d decided to start the party early. They wore ridiculous hose and doublets in flashy and obnoxious colors. One looked over his shoulder, sunlight glinting on the silver inlay on his violet mask.
“Hey.” The man nudged one of his fellows. “Look at what just fell from the heavens.”
Regulus rolled his eyes as the other two men turned toward them. His arm was still around Adelaide’s waist, but either the young noble didn’t notice or didn’t care.
“I actually crawled out of hell,” Regulus said. “But thanks for the compliment.” Adelaide giggled.
The noble squinted at him, then laughed too. “This your husband?”
“Betrothed,” Adelaide replied.
One of the other men wiggled his eyebrows. A vivid green mask covered the right half of his face. “What I’m hearing is I still have a chance.” He held out his flask. “I’m Will. Care for a drink?”
“No thank you, Will,” Adelaide said with an amused snort.
“I’m Thomas,” the first speaker said. He pointed at the third noble, who wore a crimson mask. “That’s Sean. And the angel’s name is...?”
“Adelaide,” she said, before Regulus could say none of your business. “But I’m quite human.”
“Where are you from, Lady Adelaide?” Sean asked. “Carasom? Khastalland?”
Regulus felt her stiffen as she said, “Nueres Duchy.”
“Oh.” Sean pointed at Will. “Will has relatives in Nueres. But where were you from before that? Khastalland, right?”
Regulus winced. He’d seen Dresden lose his cool over similar lines of questioning in the past. Jerrick and Estevan hadn’t been born or raised in Monparth, so it didn’t bother them unless someone implied they didn’t count as Monparthians, despite their status as knights of Monparth.
“My mother’s womb,” Adelaide said flatly. “Who was in Nueres.” She shuffled her feet. “But she was from Khastalland.”
“Ah, see?” Sean snapped his fingers. “I knew it.”
Regulus looked around, scanning the growing line behind them. No one looked like Nolan or the sorcerer. He turned back to the intoxicated young men. “Do you know anyone else coming to the masque?”
“Sure,” Will said. “Lots of nobles. None that could wear that dress so well, though.” He winked at Adelaide. Regulus could have punched him, but he restrained himself.
“Have you heard if any of the Carricks are coming?” Adelaide asked.
“Duke and Duchess Carrick come every year,” Thomas said. “Not sure if any of their sons are coming.”
“Henry said he saw the youngest, what’s his name?” Sean said. “Nathaniel?”
“Nolan,” Will said.
“Yeah, that’s it. Said he saw him carrying some boxes for some older man over in the merchant’s district a couple days ago. Said he planned on coming. Why?”
Regulus and Adelaide glanced at each other. She placed her hand on his chest. “Regulus used to be good friends with the Carricks. He was hoping to reconnect and introduce us.”
“I wouldn’t do that.” Will laughed. “Or if you do, keep a close eye on your lovely lady. Nolan Carrick has a reputation for charming the ladies.”
“Does he?” Adelaide murmured.
“Well,” Regulus said, “at least I don’t have to worry about the three of you.”
Thomas and Will laughed, but Sean turned red as his mask. “At least we’ve still got our looks.” Sean traced his finger down across his cheek to his chin, mirroring Regulus’ scar. Regulus’ mouth turned down and the tops of his ears burned.
“Don’t worry, Sean,” Adelaide said. She turned toward Regulus and ran her fingertips over his scar, making his skin tingle. “Maybe one day you’ll grow out of those boyish features and look like a man, too.” Regulus couldn’t help himself. He leaned over and kissed her.
“Well, then.” Will pulled at his collar. The young men turned around and returned to their flasks, commenting on the ladies they could spot ahead of them in line.
The line moved forward at a slow but steady pace and continued to grow behind them. They scanned the crowd, looking for any sign of Kirven or Nolan, but couldn’t get a good enough look at anyone. Captain Russell and Lieutenant Beale stood just outside the doorway, checking for weapons and scanning the passing faces for anyone who matched the descriptions Regulus and Adelaide had given them.
“See anything?” Russell whispered as he pretended to check Regulus’ sword.
Regulus shook his head. “Too many people. Too many masks.”
“Masquerade.” Russell cursed. “I hope you have better luck than we’re having once you’re inside. They’re passing us too quickly.”
They continued inside, up the red-carpeted staircase and into the cavernous ballroom. Massive crystal chandeliers with dozens of candles hung from the vaulted ceiling. Candelabras with intricate metalwork covered in gold leaf stood on pillars between the towering stained-glass windows. Tables covered with food arranged into the shapes of animals, flowers, and magical creatures lined the sides of the long room. A group of musicians played softly in the far corner.
The royal dais stood empty, but the hall was filling with guests and a low buzz of constant conversation mixed with the sounds of the harp, lutes, and flutes. Royal guards stood on either side of every entrance and exit, and in front of every window. Servants carrying trays of silver goblets filled with deep red wine wove through the guests. Regulus realized he had frozen, gawking at the overwhelming opulence.
“We should probably split up to cover more ground,” Adelaide whispered before kissing his cheek. She slipped out of his arm and breezed away, looking unconcerned and like she wasn’t bearing the weight of the world on her shoulders. He watched her move among the guests, her above-average height helping him track her.
With a sigh, he turned away. He wasn’t much for talking at parties, but he was a good listener. He meandered through the hall, listening for Carrick or the sorcerer’s voice or for anyone to say anything about Nolan Carrick or anything suspicious.
