Page 2 of Of Masks and Fury

Some people were worth sacrificing everything.

The journey since leaving was a blur of hiding and moving, always moving. I’d traveled at night when possible, catching what sleep I could during daylight.

My magic had kept me alive. The power I’d once feared now flowed through me as naturally as breathing. I’d used it to purify stream water, warm my body through freezing nights, and ease the worst of the pain in my blistered feet. Small magics, but mine.

I reached into my other pocket, closing my fingers around the small striped stone Trew had left on my pillow one morning. A white band spiraled around the center of the black stone polished by an ancient river.

“This one’s special,” he’d told me once, that devastating smile playing across his lips. “Every time you look at it, I want you to remember that some things may seem impossible until they’re not. Like a princess and a rebel king.”

I’d kissed him, poured everything I felt into it until we were both breathless.

He’d groaned against my mouth, his hands fisting in my hair like he couldn’t get close enough. “You’re going to ruin me, Princess.”

“Good, because you’ve already ruined me,” I’d whispered back.

Now I clutched the stone, telling myself that what we had was real, that I would find my way back to him.

If he’d forgive me.

If he’d wait.

If I survived what was coming.

A shadow passed overhead, and I froze, my heart roaring up into my throat as I scanned the sky. Just a crow, not a cinderhawk. Not Gavelle tracking me for Trew.

He’d find the note. He’d read it, and then he’d spend approximately ten minutes deciding to come after me anyway, because that was who he was. If he rode for Caldrith, my father would know within hours that I hadn’t returned alone. Everything I was about to do depended on appearing to be exactly what I was: a daughter who’d run away and thought better of it. Trew’s shadow at my back would destroy that story before I told it.

Stay put,I thought, as if he could hear me across the distance.Just this once, trust me enough to stay put.

The landscape started to change, becoming familiar in a way that made my belly clench. I knew these hills and roads. I’d ridden through here as a child, my younger self laughing as Addie raced ahead on her own mount.

Fates, we’d been so young and naive. We’d thought our father loved us and that being a princess meant safety.

We’d been wrong about all of it.

I crested another rise and Caldrith Castle gleamed in the distance, its white stone towers turned pink by the late-day sun. Once, this sight would’ve filled me with comfort and the knowledge that I was nearly home.

Now all I felt was the weight of the mask I’d have to wear again.

My father’s dutiful daughter. The obedient princess. The Lady of Mercy who presided over executions and called it kindness.

I’d worn that mask for sixteen years. I knew its contours, its weight, and the way it chafed and suffocated and slowly eroded whoever hid beneath it. But the silent princess no longer swallowed her rage. Now a warrior, she’d learned to wield it, which meant thinking like her father before she walked through his gates.

He’d have questions. He always had questions, soft-voiced and delivered in a way to lull before he struck like a viper. He’d catch me mid-breath while he smiled.

I’d need a story. Enough truth to be convincing, with none of the parts that mattered. Grateful daughter. Compliant princess. Someone who was eager to come home. If I seemed too polished, he’d see the seams. Too broken, and he’d smell opportunity.

And I still hadn’t ruled out that Thorne’s letter was bait.

With Pherin bobbing on my shoulder, I started up the hill toward the gate.

I’d rescue my sister, and we’d flee to Syllavar and Trew. Simple. Impossible.

But I’d learned impossible things had a way of becoming real when you were desperate enough.

The two guards at the gate snapped to attention as I approached, their eyes widening in recognition. A scowl took over the older one’s face while the other twitched but remained at attention.

I lifted my chin and let the mask settle into place, becoming my father’s daughter once more.