(possible triggers: angst, loss)

CHAPTER THREE:
Mask of Silver

• • •

After lying there on the cold ground for what felt like an eternity, I choked on a sob and held my breath at the sound of footsteps running toward the cavern. Some part of me begged to get to my feet, to move and hide, but stronger was the side asking why.

Why bother running? Why hide when they'll catch me anyway? I should've been there. I was supposed to be with them when this happened.

My mind went on spiraling as my body continued to shake, forehead pressed to the stone floor. The stench of carnage was nauseating and the footsteps were closing in, yet the will to act wouldn't come.

Not until I heard his voice.

The running skidded to a stop behind me. Through his panting, Seeva spoke, and my hearts leaped as I questioned whether I was hearing things or not.

"No... NO!" he roared.

Hearing the thud of his knees as he fell was enough for me to finally turn, and a strike of relief burned in my chest when I saw him. His eyes were wide and wild as they glazed past me to take in the evidence of the attack.

I welcomed the fleeting distraction from grief.

He was real.

He was alive.

"Moon," he croaked, the sound something I'd never heard from him before. So vulnerable."We... we have to go. They might come back." His eyes connected with mine, and I nearly glanced away because it was too much—that shared loss, the gaping holes that we both had carved out of us.

He called my name again, but there was nothing left in me to respond. After another moment, he seemed to realize I couldn't talk. He got to his feet and bent down to scoop me into his arms, and I could only let him lift me and hold me close, hoping that his warmth might fend off the inevitable ice creeping in if just for a moment.

Seeva carried me all the way to his home in the neighboring village where mostly Alfir lived. The same village where... Namjoon lived.

Thinking of him brought on waves of crushing pain, so I trained my focus as much as possible on what Seeva was saying as he sat me down on the edge of his bed.

"—clean you up and let you rest before I take you back to your family." He spoke so much quieter than normal. Not calmer—there was a panic wading just below the surface that was also unlike him. My utter silence was not typical behavior for me either.

In the midst of my thoughts, I felt his hands flip my wrists over so that my palms and forearms were facing up. My gaze lowered, and I blinked at the near-black blood that dried onto my skin in blotches. It had still been wet when I dropped to the ground in the cave earlier.

"Bath," I breathed out just above a whisper.

Seeva's eyes snapped to mine, filling with tears of relief. "Right," he nodded and squeezed my hand, "of course. I'll heat the water for you."

So he did, and I was in a daze throughout most of the bath. The hot water barely registered against my skin, though there were brief instances where the warmth seeped in enough to relax my muscles and stop the tremors in my body. The calm was short-lived, though, as my head cleared enough that I began washing off.

Seeva had placed a white bar of soap on the stand beside the tub, and I ran it over my arms and hands. My breathing picked up as the white suds tinted blue. My nails dug into my skin as the scrubbing intensified, and soon the water had wisps of dark blue swirling into it. Blood. Their blood. My hands trembled as I brought them up to my face, finding the cursed color underneath my fingernails.

I couldn't stop it—images of what the ambush might've been like stormed in my head. My brothers and sisters by pact, practicing like usual, asking why I hadn't shown up. Their faces full of dread when the marching starts to sound. Rushing to arm themselves or perhaps trying to think of places to hide, but the Keepers are already there and my family is forced to fight without me and without their leader. They hold up for a while, but they stand no chance—not against the Keepers' xenith that strips gifts away like tearing off wings from birds. Leira's longsword clatters to the ground as she's cut down. Callyn's throat is slit before he can get out one of his creative expletives. Namjoon... Namjoon is on his knees, blade lodged in his gut as he asks me to forgive myself for not being there with him.

My loud cries nearly drowned out the slamming of the door as Seeva barged in and rushed over, crouching a few feet from the curtain that separated us. I was hunched over, holding my knees to my chest, and it took ten minutes of him talking me down until I stopped shaking. He left only when he was convinced that I wouldn't break down again and that I was ready to get out.

There was a small round mirror on the wall, and I caught only a glimpse of brown skin and damp white hair before looking away. Facing the heartbreak that was surely pooling in my eyes was not something I was ready for. It was hard enough seeing it in Seeva's gaze. I took a deep breath and put my clothes back on, thankful they had not been stained.

Seeva had a glass of water and a roll of bread waiting for me when I walked into the bare kitchen. I sat at the table and picked at the food, managing only a few sips of the drink.

"Your family is probably worried about you, but it's after dark now. I could still take you back, but—"

"No," I blurted, dropping the bread onto the plate. It wasn't curfew that concerned me. "I can't... can't explain to them what happened. I'm not ready."

"Then rest here tonight. But Moon, I have to take you back first thing tomorrow morning." His irises had always been the warmest black could be, but now they were just...vacant. Cold.

"Where were you?" I whispered. "Why weren't you with them?"

He held my gaze, never shying away despite all the anger I could sense he held toward himself. "What Leira said the day before... I knew you all felt the same. Antsy for things to move, at least in some way. I left Namjoon in charge and skipped the meeting to get more vahna."

He had no way of knowing what would happen. He was only trying to do something that would cheer us all up.

It took a while for me to find my voice again. "I was sick. Some stupid cold. I should've gone anyway." My nails dug into my palms, and I tried not to think about the blood that had gathered under them only a little bit ago.

Seeva's hand enveloped my own. "You couldn't have known. I couldn't have either, and we can't blame ourselves or we will never be able to move forward. We can't let our survival go to waste. You know they wouldn't want that."

I let out a bitter chuckle. "What they wouldn't want is for the Keepers to get away with this. For the King to keep enforcing this without any pushback." My tone heated with each word. "They wouldn't want their deaths to be in vain, Seeva. They would want us to fight. To finish what all of us were working toward."

He raked a hand through dark waves of hair, glancing away."Moon," he warned, keeping his volume low, "I need you to sleep. You're not thinking straight, okay? It's only the two of us now."

It hadn't escaped me how tired I was, how jumbled and emotional and unstable my thoughts were, but this one idea stuck out as an angry, radiating moon against a black night. I made it that way, let it grow and burn so I'd be consumed by something other than grief.

"It only takes one. I'm bringing the King down with or without your help."

━━━━━━ ◦ ♔ ◦ ━━━━━━

It was never going to work.

Even if our attempt on the King's life came close, it was still bound to go wrong.

Seeva's strike might've been powerful enough, but his stealth was severely lacking. Always had been. There were too many Keepers, too many watchful eyes—his gift would be snuffed out before it came anywhere near the noble. Then he'd be arrested and stripped, if not killed.

I said as much to him that morning, but he wouldn't bat those charcoal eyes. He only replied, "I'll make it work."

There was no option but to trust him. Without our mission, I had no purpose. Staying back meant accepting what was done to my friends, my family. Refusing to act would label me a coward—perhaps not from anyone except myself, but that was enough. I wouldn't be able to live on if I did nothing.

You may not live on by doing something, either.

The thought had ravaged my mind since dawn and was still swirling in my head even when the last violet rays of daylight sunk behind distant mountains. As I followed the melody of harps and flutes to the village square, I silenced the thought with a new one.

If I'm to die, let it be in the pursuit of what I believe in.

Namjoon and the rest of them—all some of the bravest people I'd ever known—had died for the same cause. They may not have walked right into it as I was planning to, but if the roles were reversed, any one of them would've done the same.

The plan was simple, and we'd spent three months preparing for its execution after Seeva decided he would help. Tonight was the Moon and Sun Festival—a twenty-four-hour event of the equinox, which called for the Silver King to make an appearance at one of the Idaean villages. This season, he was due to visit my very own birthplace, Oreth. Keepers would be on watch, and the King would be accompanied by numerous Royal Guards as well as his personal warrior, the Gratori. But if Seeva could position himself just right, we hoped his attack would be enough to kill him.

My job was to lure the King even just a step away from his guards. Whether I had to use my gift or some other method, I would do whatever it took to make Seeva's shot easier.

Mother and Father didn't like that I was going to the festival. It began at sunset, and though curfew was lifted for the celebration, most redbloods still refused to leave their homes past dark. The holiday was meant for everyone in Idaea, but the elves ended up celebrating from dusk until dawn while the redbloods celebrated from dawn until dusk. It was nothing out of the ordinary. Elves ruled the cold of night, redbloods claimed the warmth of day. That's just how it was.

The square had been cleared of the merchant stands, revealing the mosaic of white and black tiles on the ground. Even under the feet of so many elves, the symbol could still be seen: a white crescent moon with a flaming black sun behind it. The Royal Insignia—or the King's Stain, as Namjoon had distastefully named it.

My chest burned at the thought of him.

Taking a deep breath, I walked farther into the event, weaving through elves who were eating, dancing, or playing instruments. Ropes had been hung from the low rooftops of the surrounding buildings, crossing over the courtyard with lanterns dangling from them to provide light, not that elves needed much.

As my eyes roamed over the crowd in search of Seeva, someone clutched my wrist and yanked me into their chest.

"What are you doing here, halfling?" the pink-eyed, silver-haired Alfir asked between his teeth. A white crescent moon and a few stars were painted along the corner of his eye. "Run back home. You're better suited to celebrate the sun tomorrow with the redbloods," he spat.

My jaw clenched behind a forced smile. "Feel better now? If you need to be rude to compensate for your insecurities, I'm happy to stand here and let you continue," I said sweetly with a tilt of my head. The elf scowled but released his grip on me. I patted his shoulder. "No? Then I'll be on my way."

Leaving him to mull over what happened, I pushed deeper through the crowd and found Seeva near the edge of the square where tables were set up for cooks and bakers to sell their food.

"Are you ready?" he asked quietly without sparing me a glance, running his hands over a few packaged sweets.

"I am, yes." I brushed by him and feigned interest in the next table over, eyeing the spiced dough balls that were skewered on sticks and drizzled with syrup. They were still steaming, and the aroma made my mouth water. "I'm only worried about you."

Seeva let out a faint chuckle. "You're worried about your mentor? You're lucky I don't get offended easily."

"Just remember to keep your shields down," I whispered as I passed by him again. Only a few steps back into the crowd, I reached out to his mind and caught his message for me.

My brain is as open as the sky above us, he thought amusedly, but I could sense all his nerves hiding below. Be careful, Moon. I know you need to distract him, but if he really locks his sight on you—

It will be fine, I sent my words into his mind, hoping to soothe his fear. He had to focus, not worry about whether the King would pick me as one of the oh-so-lucky people to bring to the capital with him. With so many elves vying to be his next guest, a halfling like me would quickly lose his interest. He'll be dead anyway, I reminded Seeva.

Before Seeva could respond, I felt his attention shift. The crowd began dispersing and I stumbled to follow the tide. As a path opened, everyone around me murmured and struggled to peek over the mass of bodies. I lifted onto my toes and caught a glimpse of the many guards surrounding either side of the noble elf—the Teseran—between them.

The Silver King.

As he and his men neared and the elves around them hushed and offered slight bows, I took a moment to note his appearance. A mask of silver with patterns of white jewels covered everything but his mouth and chin. His straight, long hair was blacker than midnight, two thick strands falling over his shoulders and down to his waist while half of his hair was up in a bun. The regal, white robe he wore shined with silver accents, and as he passed by and his back became visible, I noticed a cape of translucent white stretching out behind him, the material hovering just above the ground with sparkling red particles of vahna floating near the seams.

The King went to the front of the temple, ascended the steps, and turned to address the crowd. My hands fisted at my sides. It was my first time setting eyes on Idaea's ruler, and it was infuriating just how handsome he was even with a mask hiding his face.

I followed suit when everyone around me started to bow and cover their hearts in reverence, though it killed me to do so. All the Alfir rose when the King started a short speech—one I made sure to tune out. Listening to him feign gratitude to our village for hosting him, hearing him say how his thanks would come in the form of inviting a few of our people to the palace—it would all make it harder for me to play nice with him later.

Not soon enough, the King and his guards made their way back to the crowd as the celebration resumed. Elves lined up to meet him, and those who didn't returned to dancing, mingling, singing, and playing music. Joining the dance, I tried to discreetly keep an eye on the King and his men, particularly the Gratori at his right side. The King's loyal warrior was dressed in regal black armor that only the greatest fighters wore due to its rarity. Thick, polished obsidian protected his torso and shoulders, and the rest of his arms and legs were wrapped in tough warkin leather that resisted even the sharpest blades. His eyes scanned every elf that stepped forward to kiss the King in greeting, and it was clear he would kill anyone who moved an inch out of line.

Seeva had taught us about the Gratori for years. They were the greatest obstacle to getting to any noble, save for the nobles themselves.

Over two hours later, the King had made most of his rounds with the Alfir who wished to meet him, and my opening finally presented itself when he moved closer to the dancing. I made my way toward him, pushing past the men and women who were trying to catch his attention and become his first dance partner. At the edge of the crowd, I purposely bumped into several elves—hard enough to make them whip around and glare at me.

"Watch where you're going, halfling!" one of them shouted as they shoved me. Their hit hardly affected me, but I yelled out in false pain and fell to the ground right at the feet of the King.

"Compose yourselves before His Greatness," someone hissed at the Alfir from above me. The Gratori, it sounded like.

The King's white robe dusted the tiled ground, and his clothing shifted as he offered a hand to me. I lifted my head enough to meet his eyes through the mask—blades piercing beyond shadow. My hand trembled slightly as I placed it in his, and he swiftly pulled me to my feet. His grasp was not gentle, but it was not exactly rough either.

Standing only a step away from him, our gazes remained locked, but I could feel the Gratori's glare on me as he stepped closer to his master.

"Quite a shame to dirty such a lovely dress," the King said quietly as his eyes fell over the white dress Seeva had bought for me. It was the most impressive thing I'd ever come close to wearing with its heart-shaped neckline, exposed back that dipped all the way down to my hips, and the long slit that revealed one thigh. Bait to lure the beast.

"I'm not too concerned about it now that I have your attention," I replied breathily, putting on my most flustered look. Part of me really was, just not for the reason I wanted him to think.

The King's red lips titled with amusement, then he turned to his guards. I watched his sharp jawbone shift below the mask as he spoke. "I've found my first partner." And with so little said, the guards filed out and around us, creating a barrier from the rest of the crowd.

I trained my face not to move, but inwardly I was grinning. I'd successfully trapped the most powerful being in all the kingdom.

"You want to dance with me?" I asked while brushing some of the dirt off my dress. Anything to appear nervous, innocent.

The Teseran gave a wide, annoyingly beautiful smile. Deceiving. "Am I not to assume your falling in front of me was intentional?"

I let not an ounce of surprise flicker on my features, instead furrowing my brows in confusion. "Why would I want to embarrass myself in such a way?"

The King watched me a moment before recapturing my hand and pulling me close, my chest a breath apart from his. I angled my chin higher to keep our eye contact. He was tall, and the power radiating from him was almost tangible.

His hand slid around my waist and pressed me into him, and his strength was undoubtable. "You said yourself that you were looking for my attention," he said in a low voice, chest rumbling against mine.

"Isn't everyone?" I smiled softly, lowering my gaze to seem timid. "I can assure you, being shoved to the floor in front of you was not something I planned on, My King." The title soured my tongue.

The crowd around us slowly moved their attention back to their own dancing, save for a few lingering eyes. As the ruler started to lead me in our own dance, I sent my reach out until I found Seeva's awaiting mind.

Will this work? I mentally asked him, hoping the position I had the King in would give him a clear shot.

It might, but I need to find a spot in the crowd where I can hit him and not be seen by his guards, he answered.

"Then what did you plan on?" The King mumbled as he swayed and pulled us through the ceremonial dance.

"I planned nothing. Only dreamed that I might catch your eye."

He spun me around so that my back was flush with his chest, and his head dipped so that our cheeks brushed. "And what made you think it would be so impossible for you to gain my notice?"

I let out a shaky breath—not on purpose. "The same reason I was shoved a few moments ago. I'm a halfling, and I've learned that most elves have a disdain for the likes of me."

Except for Namjoon and the rest of the Order. They showed me greater love than I'd even deserved.

"Yet you are the most ravishing being I've ever had the pleasure of seeing."

My hearts thudded. Was he toying with me?

He carried me on through more of the dance, and I tried again to search for Seeva's presence, but to no avail.

As my reach was returning, I caught the echo of one thought, one firm, deep voice that I realized belonged to the Gratori who was currently watching us.

What is he doing with a halfling anyway? The True King would never have spared her a second glance.

It took everything in me not to stop in my tracks. Whoever I was dancing with was not the real Silver King. He was an impostor, some other noble elf sent to appear in his place.

We can't kill him. It would be a waste, and we'd risk getting caught without even touching our real target.

My hearts started drumming faster than the music as I searched again for Seeva's mind, hoping to warn him before—

I tensed as the false king who held me stiffened, then blood-curdling screams exploded all around us.

It was too late.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Hey everyone! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! This is our last bit of set up before we get to meet the rest of the characters, so who's excited?

A couple questions to help me know what you're thinking:

How do you feel after finding out that Namjoon and the rest of Moon's friends were killed?

Who do you think this impostor king is? And what reason would the True King have to send someone other than himself?

Finally, how are you liking the world and our MC so far? I know it takes time to really get a feel for her, but I'd love to know your thoughts on Moon up to this point :)

Thank you so much for reading, and if you'd like to help show support for this story, don't forget to click the star and vote 💕

See you all in the next one, where we'll finally get to meet the Royal Family (;

-Kat

July 8, 2021