Risens and Marlaine followed the white-clad servant as he moved through the gardens toward the main structure ahead. Lady Myrenas’s estate was like all of the others that occupied the narrow stretch of sandy coastline—massive and underutilized, merely a show of the power of their alleged influence and depths of their purses. They were oftentimes sparsely occupied beyond the permanent staff and private soldiers who protected the grounds. Unlike the others, in her case, this served as her permanent residence.

  The pristine coastline splashed against the shore a few hundred meters in the distance, but nearly all of the views were blocked by the expansive buildings. The footpath they were led along terminated in a wide courtyard ringed by impressively maintained gardens. Several carriages already lined up along the rounded edges, though most of the attendees—like Risens—had arrived on foot.

  Risens carefully calculated the guards that stood at attention, blocking access to all other exits, funneling the traffic through the main entrance. The volume of blades had swelled as they entered the Lady’s estate, yet he was relieved to see none of Windwake’s soldiers inside the property. Though his mission was to remain stealthy, collateral damage was a routine reality.

  They stopped as their servant exchanged hushed words with the staff at the main door before returning his attention to them.

  “Please follow me, sir,” he droned. “You will be announced forthwith.”

  Risens steeled himself for the intense discomfort he knew was to follow. Thankfully, his disguise was complete—his face, and the mask, hidden behind the colored fabric. A few steps through the doorway, a heavy knocking sounded behind him.

  Some in the crowd politely hushed, while others had to be shouted over. “May I present, Duke Marken Cortinerie, Lord of Faltrun Dutchy.”

  The focus of the room shifted as the words echoed through the massive, vaulted chamber. Risens squared his shoulders, puffing his chest before offering a regal bow to the assembled nobility. As if the collective attention span of the room snapped in unison, all eyes shifted his way. Then, as quickly as it had come, it went, and the music and conversation picked back up as if it had never skipped the beat. The discomfort ebbed, though he felt the eyes that remained discretely on his person. Undoubtably, he’d fend off introductions and conversations of business for much of the night.

  With Marlaine still attached to his arm, he plotted a path toward the left side of the room, fending off servers with trays laden with rich and expensive foods. Eating or imbibing the free flowing spirits at the festivals was an adventure in itself. Half the guests were nearly to intoxication, and the rest would suffer hunger and thirst for the sake of their decorum. The colored facial coverings made the process of eating or drinking difficult. They were always in the way, and many of the guests couldn’t be bothered with removing them. Gods forbid anyone should see a noble at a time of incompleteness of their wardrobe.

  Risens would have scoffed if he hadn’t been dressed just as foolishly. He felt utterly constricted by the thick fabric and high collar of his tunic. That the mask covered his face was the only saving grace, hiding, too, the Shadows Shroud.

  “I have no desire to discuss any business dealing or anything for that matter with the nobles this evening,” he whispered to Marlaine. “Your charm will be greatly appreciated.”

  “As you wish, my Lord.” Through the fabric, he could see the grin that tugged up on the corners of her lips. He had felt the tremble of emotion earlier, yet he was pleased to see that she had loosened up once through security. She was at home in this element. Attention would be the death of him. His place was disguised in the shadows. Hers was here, on display for the world to see.

  Let them remember the nameless courtesan and forget me entirely.

  “It’s pathetic how little skin it takes to sway their attention,” she continued, her voice low. “I recognize many in this room. I’ll steer us clear of any who might recognize me.”

  The ballroom was massive—nearly fifty meters long by more than half as wide. Tall stained glass windows decorated the side walls of the entry before giving way to tapestries depicting historical events of the realm and the history of Lady Myrenas’ house. The effigy of the raven, descending from the sky to offer a kneeling Adalhard a crown and blade were commonplace throughout Windwake and Halthome, though the details of this one was truly exquisite—and perhaps, without compare. Regal portraits hemmed into cloth of the original Lord and Lady Myrenas stood tall, watching over the assembled gathering. The rear of the room was framed by a curving set of staircases on either side that wrapped upward to a balcony on the second floor. Aside from a large doorway offering an exit to an exterior balcony beyond, the entire rear wall was made of pristine and blemishless glass.

  A determined approach of a small group drew his attention. Risens recognized the the leading woman immediately.

  Lady Myrenas was dressed, unsurprisingly, in a flowing gown of glossy cream-colored fabric. In place of her standard red trim, festive colors were sewn into the dress. She wore a modified, colorful cowl, that remained purely as a decoration on her back. The elbow-length gloves matched, as did her wide-brimmed hat that covered a portion of her face. Of all the guests who graced the celebration, her face was the most revealed.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The Lady Myrenas was a powerful figure in Windwake and the surrounding territory. Her fleet of merchant ships was responsible for a significant measure of the imported goods the city relied upon and the nobles demanded. Her family’s position on the council had been long-standing and she’d never been shy to speak her mind. Matronly, in her late forties, she showed no indication of either slowing down or silencing her voice.

  Risens, was well aware of her duplicity. There was little that avoided the watchful eye of King Lathrenon, and her indiscretions had been noted. She had not yet made the list of targets, however, since solid evidence of her involvement in the same ring of traitors Duke Karieas ran in had yet to come. Risens had no doubt it would, and then, an example would be made of her. And that, indeed, would strike a harder blow than the death of a feckless Duke.

  “Duke Cortinerie, your presence is an unexpected honor to my house,” she said, stopping a few paces before him. She inclined her head while holding her hand out toward him as if she meant for him to kiss it.

  At his side, Marlaine averted her gaze to the floor, stepping back in an offering of the respect his station demanded. The tone and timbre of her voice was unique—both high in pitch yet lilting and forceful. A fine fusion of honey and venom.

  “Lady Myrenas, the pleasure is all mine,” Risens replied with a polite bow. He collected the proffered hand and brought it to his lips. The fresh floral aromas tickled his senses.

  “I had no idea you were expected in Windwake or I would have personally extended the invitation.” She scowled slightly as she spoke and he caught the hint of suspicion in her inflection. His was a well-rehearsed story, and the doubt was understandable for one who’d rarely been seen beyond his province.

  “Lessons learned by my betters, My Lady,” he replied as he rose. “It seems there are always those who believe they deserve more than they are due; who don’t appreciate that we are the glue, truly the ones who bind the fabrics of their lives from tearing at the seam. That we are the one who control the future and fate of Halthome.”

  The sparkle in her eyes was telling. The sentiment expressed was one he’d heard repeated time and time again. The nobles, puffed up by their supposed wealth and influence, believed that they held the leverage, controlled the true power of the realm. They fomented dissent for the crown amongst the commoners while they themselves stole the food from their tables to satiate their own gluttony for power.

  “Ah, a man after my own heart.” She grinned, providing a view of her two front teeth, coated in gold. “I would welcome the time to continue this conversation in the coming days. Perhaps in a more private manner? As for now, your reputation precedes you. Please enjoy my home. Do let the staff know if you require anything. There are quarters available if you desire.”

  On cue, Marlaine pressed into his side, her hand wrapping scandalously close to his waistline.

  “Thank you, my Lady.” Risens offered a polite smile. “Mayhaps I shall indulge in your hospitality this evening.”

  With a wink and a subtle nod, Lady Myrenas sidled away, her entourage of guards and retainers in tow.

  “Be wary of that woman,” Marlaine whispered into his ear. Then she licked his earlobe as to not draw suspicions that she was anything more than a sweet treat upon his arm. “She and I may not share the same Brand, but she possesses the gift naturally. If she hadn’t been so skilled in court, she could have easily manipulated anyone with her… prowess alone.”

  “I’ll accept the warning,” he replied. “I’m afraid she’s not my type.”

  Marlaine pulled back from his shoulder and ran her hand seductively up his chest.“And what type is that exactly?”

  “Not traitors, for one.”

  “Then it seems you’ll remain celibate for eternity, for we are all traitors to something.” She laughed, and Risens had to admit, it was a welcomed sound. “I forget how young and naive you truly are. It’s all a matter of perspective, dear Marken. The lines can blur when viewed from different perspectives. Or positions.”

  She ended that thought with a wan wink.

  Risens, for his part, was surprised by the honesty of the statement. It was a retort he expected would have resulted in an expectedly painful inquisition, yet her words gave him pause. Deep inside, a quiet churning that lurked within surged to life. He had defended the realm faithfully for the entirety of his remembrance, yet was, himself, a traitor. Though most of his actions had felt trivial, the true impact of her words sent frosted spiders crawling through his veins. Though his actions continued to be in defense of the Kingdom, he had knowingly disregarded a direct order.

  Several times.

  He had followed the unquestionable command of a power he knew nothing of.

  His stomach turned to acid, though he tamped down the bile and struggled to stuff them away, understanding that one day,they would likely resurface with a vengeance.

  He knew, in a sense, that she was right. Devoted as he was to the King and Kingdom, he, the King’s Rightmaker was a conspirator in his own rite. As much as he fought the internal battle, he knew the crack had widened.

  Had it not been true, the moment he heard the Mother Raven speak the words false king he would have cut her down on the spot.

  “Do not fret. It is unbecoming,” Marlaine whispered. “Each and everyone in the realm owes their allegiance to Halthome,though most pledge themselves to something far more enigmatic. Be it an ideal, an idol, or even their own vanity, nothing exists without conflict or compromise. The absolute rigidness of the latter is where problems find a dwelling.”

  He lost himself in the startling depth of this courtesan’s ideals. While his concentration remained fixed on the swirling movements of the room around him, his thoughts churned.

  “A King to you is a villain to others.” He felt the electric whisper of her breath on his skin as her hushed voice filtered through the fabric of her veil and into his ear. She planted a kiss on his cheek. “The executioner can also be the savior.”

  He pivoted his head, centering his attention on her. His eyes traced a line from her eyes downward, noting the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest.

  Gods damn the power of that Brand.

  He pushed back at the wave of temptation that threatened him. A thought came to him that forced a grin across his face.

  “How did you get to be so wise?” he asked.

  The sound of her single burst of laughter was startling. He waved off the looks from several of the costumed nobles within earshot.

  Her tone was honest and melodic. “My dear, Marken, wise is a compliment and a word that I can say has never been used to describe me.” She sighed. “Though I can undoubtably give you an education in some things.”