A month passed, and spring turned into early summer.
It was a peculiar, quiet month. I spent my mornings at the Royal , learning to read the and the old maps of Highmarch, and my afternoons teaching Nora her letters. By the end of the month, she could read a whole page of the *Herald* without moving her lips, and she was very proud of it.
Vivienne kept her word. Every few days, she sent me a note in violet ink, hidden inside a book of poems. *He asked how you were. I said you were sad and quiet. He seemed pleased.* I wrote her the answers to carry back, small, harmless, dull things. I felt like a master, pulling the strings of a puppet that was also my friend. I did not like the feeling.
And in all that time, I did not see Kael Rowan.
I looked for him without meaning to, in the shadows between the shelves, and in the faces of the guards. Once, in the market, I saw a tall man in a silver-blue coat and my heart , but it was only a stranger with a red beard.
On the last day of the month, a servant brought a heavy cream envelope to the breakfast table, sealed with gold.
"The King's Spring Masquerade," my father read aloud, holding the card in both hands. His voice shook a little. "'His Majesty King Alaric requests the pleasure of the company of the Duke of Hallowell and his daughter, Lady Elise, at the palace on the night of the full moon. Masks are required.'"
"The whole court will be there, Elise. The Prince will be there."
"Yes, Father."
"I know what you said about waiting one year. And I have kept my word. I did not ask again." He cleared his throat. "But I would be… very grateful if you would dance with him. Only dance. That would help."
"I will dance with him, Father," I said gently. "But I will promise nothing else."
He sighed, and nodded, and for the first time in a month he took a large bite of toast.
That night, I called Nora to my room, and we began our preparations.
"A is the perfect place for a murder," I said, laying my best silk dress across the bed. "Everyone is hidden. Everyone is drinking. Everyone is looking at everyone else. It is a stage for liars."
"Then why are you going, my lady?" Nora asked, as she threaded her needle.
"Because the liars will all be there." I smiled . "I want to see them all in one room, wearing their masks. A mask makes people brave. It makes them careless."
"Then we need a plan."
"Yes. First, the dress. I need pockets."
"Pockets?" She laughed. "Ladies' dresses have no pockets."
"This one will."
Nora sewed all evening, by the light of three candles. In the lining of the skirt, close to my hip, she made a small secret pocket, and another inside the sleeve. I filled them with the things I had gathered: a small silver spoon, a folded handkerchief, a tiny bottle of , and a piece of white chalk.
"A spoon?" Nora asked.
"The old women in the market say that silver turns black if it touches some poisons. It may be only a story. But a story is better than nothing."
"And the chalk?"
"If I need to leave a mark somewhere. Or a message."
I held up the mask that I had chosen. It was made of silver paper and soft leather, shaped like a fox's face, narrow and clever. It covered everything but my mouth.
"It suits you," Nora said, and laughed. "A little fox among the wolves."
On the evening of the masquerade, as the sun went down, a knock came at the back door of Hallowell Manor.
Mr. Hale answered it, and came to me with a very small, very strange expression, holding something between two fingers.
"A message for you, my lady. A boy in a gray coat brought it, and ran away before I could ask his name."
It was a tiny square of folded paper. I unfolded it with a pounding heart. It held only two lines, in small, firm, familiar handwriting.
*Wear the silver mask. I will find you. Stay where I can see you, whatever happens.*
*— K.*
I read it twice, and then I folded it very small and it into the pocket in my sleeve, beside the chalk. I did not know whether I was afraid, or glad.
Perhaps, I thought, it was both.