castle’s main ballroom was filled to the brim. With its gigantic size, that was quite a feat.
But hundreds of nobles from all over the Folkshore now mingled under the same roof for the first time in ages.
From my exploratory stroll among the crowds, I’d heard conversations that ranged from discussing post-war policies, to exploring business opportunities, to arranging marriages.
This, in fact, was the official reason for the ball, to celebrate a new era rife with possibilities, after the peaceful end to our five-year war with Avongart, and by extension, the rest of its allied Northland Kingdoms.
The invitations had said the masks were vital to that endeavor, protecting against preconceptions getting in the way of creating new connections, or of having a good time.
Naturally, I’d had my suitors pointed out to me in advance.
I now stood by the main ballroom doors with my handmaidens, my right foot tapping a nervous rhythm with the jaunty music accompanying a female singer in a gilded half-mask. My heart was rattling in my chest as I surveyed the attendees, waiting for my first target to show himself.
Smoothing my sweaty hands down my dress, I was again relieved at the absence of a petticoat and hoop-skirt. I hadn’t been wearing those since my return from Cahraman. And when everyone had tried to convince me to make tonight an exception, I’d pointed out it would have been counterproductive. I didn’t want to look “my best.” I’d opted for a simple, sleeveless dress that would be easy to dance in.
Agnë and Meira had argued for an hour over what color I should wear, the former championing blue and the latter, pink. But just because I was breaking all other rules tonight anyway, I’d gone with fuchsia. A color I’d always liked, but hadn’t worn since the royal painter had told me it didn’t suit my complexion.
I’d also opted for a white-and-grey, horse-face mask, anatomically correct save for eye holes facing forward. Along with the unsuitable dress and unstyled hair, I was probably an eyesore. I would also throw all courtly courtesies to the wind.
But what had flattering gowns and hairstyles, and impeccable etiquette done for me so far? Whoever showed interest in me tonight, must be the one whose declaration of love could save me.
“There’s Lord Hippolytus,” Agnë whispered excitedly through her plain mask of oakwood, with horizontal slits for her mouth and eyes.
I looked where she was pointing. Hippolytus, the wealthy Campanian son of a nymph princess, was sauntering towards us in a polished bronze mask cast in a generic male face, with the eye holes baring bored eyes.
I pushed away from the wall, prayers of “Please, please, please be the one” churning in my head as I glided towards him.
Emboldened by my hidden identity, I caught his hand as he passed me, pulling him towards the dance floor filled with swaying pairs. “Dance with me!”
He stiffened, ripping his hand from mine. “I think not!”
I steeled myself against his petulant harshness, stood my ground. “Why not? Isn’t that what you’re here for?”
“I didn’t come to dance,” he bit off. “I came to see if anyone in this dreary kingdom is worth my time.”
Sweat sprouted under my hair and dress, but I blocked his way when he moved to push past me, and kept moving to the music, bound on embarrassing him into engaging me. According to the rules of masked balls, it was rude to refuse an offer from another attendee.
“That’s the purpose of dancing with people tonight, to get to know them, and see if you get along.” When he tried to circumvent me again, I stepped into his path, extending my hand. “Just for one song.”
I sensed his annoyance rising, but he finally gave a long-suffering sigh and accepted my hand. “Fine.”
Hippolytus was quite handsome, a classical sculpture come to life. When I’d seen him from afar earlier, he had the sharp profile, crown of dark curls, and slim, muscled form that Lower Campanians modeled their gods after. Even with his face covered now, he cut a truly striking figure.
But as the dance progressed, I discovered he had as much depth as a birdbath.
All he could talk about was his family’s properties, how expensive his horses were, the worth of the art he commissioned, and the general opulence of his lifestyle. And he fully expected me to swoon over every detail he bragged about.
It wasn’t long into the dance that I realized something else. From Hippolytus’s overt comments as he looked around, it became clear