“I’m sorry, Elara,” he says. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t scare me,” I lie, although it looks like Mister Travers is the one who is scared. Sweat pours from his brow and his eyes seem strangely unfocused. I step closer to him and get a strong whiff of ale. “Is there a problem?” I ask.
“Your whole existence has been a problem,” he whispers. His voice sounds haunted. But before I can take in his words, I notice the inside of his cloak.
It’s lined in a deep, emerald green.
I step backward and the heat from the stew warms my back. “Were you following me, Mister Travers?”
He removes a handkerchief from his cloak and mops his brow. Although he doesn’t reply, I realize I have my answer.
“Why were you following me?” I reach my hand back into my cloak and grasp my dagger. It occurs to me that although Mister Travers seems kind, I don’t know him well at all.
“I am sorry I scared you . . . I had wanted to . . . that is, I thought I should—” He breaks off, and closes his eyes. When he opens them he says, “They’ve found me.”
“What?” I step forward. “Who’s found you?”
“The Guardians. Ever since I came to Tulan I have wanted to speak with you. But I had to wait, I had to know for sure, and now it seems I have waited too long to tell you. . . .” He breaks off and his eyes stray to the door.
“The Guardians?” Sighing, I release my dagger and place a hand on Mister Travers’s shoulder, as though he is a confused child. “I think you’ve had too much to drink. No one is coming after you. Let me make you a cup of—”
“No! You must tell no one you saw me today,” he whispers intently. “I have something important to give you.” Quickly, he reaches into his cloak and removes a book. An expen-sive one, judging by the brown leather-bound cover. He hands it to me and I read the title: Eleanor of Andewyn House: Galandria’s Greatest Queen.
Eleanor Andewyn was Galandria’s founding queen. She grew up in a family of miners and it was she who first discovered opals in Galandria’s soil. She used her newfound wealth to unify all the villages and form our kingdom. Her family, the Andewyns, built the Opal Palace in Allegria and has ruled Galandria for centuries.
But why this should matter to me, I don’t understand.
“Take it,” Mister Travers says in response to my confusion. “I shall be going away, and the time has come for you to keep it.”
“But why?”
“Because it was your mother’s,” he answers. “And she intended for you to have it.”
CHAPTER 3
WILHA
From my chambers in the Opal Palace, I hear the people chanting my name. It is not my birth name they chant, but the other name. The one that has always overshadowed everything else. Their cries pelt in through the open window, insistent and demanding, like a nettlesome song that you cannot get out of your head.
Masked Princess!
Masked Princess!
Masked Princess!
A gust of wind blows into the room, and I bring a hand to my face. Instead of skin, my fingers brush the smooth, painted metal of my mask. It is cold and wet with stray raindrops.
Behind me, Arianne, my father’s secretary, runs through my itinerary for the rest of the day, while my maid, Vena, begins tugging at my corset. I gasp as it pulls and puckers tight.
“How’s that?” Vena grunts. She doesn’t wait for an answer and begins fastening up the buttons on my gown. Her movements are hurried, as I know she hates touching me.
“It is a bit stiff,” I murmur. “Could you—”
“Princess, try to concentrate, please?” Arianne says with annoyance. “Matters important to Galandria require your attention. After your appearance on the balcony, you have your training session with Patric. After that the king has asked you to visit the children at the Royal Orphanage. . . .”
Vena finishes buttoning my gown. I turn around to face Arianne, who peers at the parchment she holds and continues. “In addition, the daughter of the king’s physician is having a wedding in three days. His Majesty feels it would be best if you attended.”
“Please tell the king that if he wishes me to be there, I shall. But if he leaves it to my discretion, I should like to remain here.”
Vena gives Arianne a look that says I told you so.
Arianne continues as though I have not spoken, “Master Welkin delivered your new mask today. He says it is his greatest work yet.” She grimaces her disapproval, to remind me that I should have met with the mask maker myself, and holds up a large lavender velvet box.
I open the box and sigh. The metal mask is painted in gold leaf and encrusted with red, orange, and yellow fire opals from Galandria’s wealthy opal mines. Small diamonds line the holes cut for my eyes. As I lift the mask from the box, the opals catch the candlelight and sparkle like a sunset. The mask is beautiful, yet I cannot see it as anything more than a sentence I must carry out.
I only wish someone would tell me what crime I have committed.
Although this mask is much brighter than the one I am currently wearing, they are identically shaped. Every mask I own covers my entire face, with the exception of my chin, my lips, and the top of my nose. When I was younger, I would stare at the shape of my masks and try to comfort myself with the thought that at least they left me enough space to breathe.
“Master Welkin is designing several more masks,” Arianne says. “They should be ready in a week so you will have your pick for the birthday ball.”
I utter my thanks and gratitude, for I know it’s expected of me, then turn and enter my closet. I take a few uncomfortable steps and turn back to tell Vena my corset really is too tight, but stop when I hear Arianne whispering.
“Spoiled is what she is. Doesn’t appreciate anything the king does. He gives her the world and asks that she only make a few appearances.”
“Spoiled freak, you mean,” Vena whispers back. “If my family didn’t need the worthings, you wouldn’t catch me anywhere near her. The palace pays good money after what happened to Rinna. I’ll bet you under that mask she’s just as ugly as they say she is.”
A true princess would not allow her servants to speak about her so. But at hearing the name of my former nanny, I draw back so they cannot see me. The fear that Vena may be speaking nothing less than the truth steals my voice.
Quietly, I turn back and move deeper into the closet. Rows of golden gowns and jeweled silken dresses seem to go on for ages. Glass cases holding every mask I have received since birth line the wall in front of me.
The cases are made of thick glass that is said to be unbreakable, and can only be opened by a jeweled key, a key which always hangs around my neck. Dozens of other decorative keys hang from the chain as well, forming a thick jeweled necklace. The keys clink and jingle as I remove the necklace and open a case. I place my new mask inside the case and close it again.
I stop to look at myself in the mirror next to the cases. The mask I am wearing is painted black, and black opals that shine with veins of sapphire trail like tears down either side.
I glance backward to make sure Arianne and Vena have not stepped into the closet. When I see they haven’t, I untie the mask and stare at my reflection. My eyes are green, and my nose is small. My hair is brown, the same color, I am told, as my mother’s. There is nothing remarkable about me. Yet surely, there is nothing horrendous either?
“Princess!” Arianne snaps. “It is nearly noon!”
I sigh and tie the mask back on. Every Friday at noon, I appear on the palace balcony before the crowd. The stares are agony. People look at me, not as someone they may wish to know, but as a macabre curiosity, a freak that both intrigues and repulses them. Men hold their children tighter, fearing that the rumors may be true, and I have the power to harm their family. Beautiful women glare at me, feeling upstaged by the grandeur of my jewels and dress. The peasants worship or revile me, calling out their well wishes or ill will in equal measures.