Page 7 of Of Masks and Fury

“Thank you.” My voice came out a soft echo of the girl I used to be. “I understand.”

Every curtsy would be a fuck you.

“Good.” His smile showed complete satisfaction. He saw his broken little bird returned to her cage. He had no idea he was staring at a hawk. “Tomorrow, I’ll arrange for your permanent detail.” He released my arm and turned back toward his throne. “Go. Rest.”

I pivoted and walked toward the massive doors, my spine straight, my steps steady.

The torches flickered as I passed, flames bending toward me as if even the fire recognized something wild that refused to be caged.

Let my father think he’d caught his broken bird. He had no idea I’d learned to fly.

Behind me, a second set of footfalls joined the echo of mine, perfectly in sync.

My shadow had a name, and it was Victor.

I was a prisoner in a fortress with only two weeks to tear it all down.

CHAPTER THREE

ISI

Victor followed me to my suite, and I shut the door to the hallway in his face.

My chambers were exactly as I’d left them, a museum dedicated to a girl who no longer existed. Perfect and lifeless, like everything else in this place I’d once called home. The air smelled of lilies, a sweet, cloying scent that turned my stomach.

Three of my ladies-in-waiting, including Mae, rushed forward, their faces full of relief and concern.

“Your Highness, we were told you were back and came right away to freshen your suite,” one of them said. “We were worried.”

“Where did you go?” another asked, plucking at my tunic with a frown.

“I visited a cluster,” I said, though my gaze remained on Mae. Her face was pale and thinner than I remembered, her eyes swollen from weeks of crying for her son. The sight of her grief hit hard. My every instinct screamed to whisper the words that would end her torment. Leo is safe. He’s happy. He’s with other children, laughing and learning to use his magic without fear.

It was all I could do to keep the words from spilling out.

Revealing what I knew would not only endanger everyone, but it would also confirm to my father that I’d been to Syllavar. It would condemn Trew.

“No news,” Mae said softly. “It’s like our children disappeared. I just pray he’s not in pain.” A tear trickled down her cheek.

I pulled her into a hug, a poor substitute for the truth I couldn’t give her.

“I need to rest,” I said after patting her back. I stepped away from her before I broke completely. “I’m exhausted from my travels. Please leave me.”

They curtsied and opened the door to the hall.

Victor stood outside, a granite statue of my father’s will.

“You’re inside for the night, Princess,” he said as my ladies left. “Do not try to leave.”

A heavy click rang out. I carefully tested the knob, finding the door locked from the outside.

Damn Victor. Damn my father.

Pherin launched from my shoulder, zipping around the room with a flurry of chirps. She landed on a sofa pillow and her tiny beak twisted.

Too clean,she said.Smells nasty.

I knew what she meant. The scent of woodsmoke, rain-soaked earth, and baking bread filled Syllavar’s air. Trew’s chambers smelled of cedar, books, and the citrus of his soap. The farce I’d lived with my whole life tainted the air of this room.