Page 30 of Promise of Punishment

“So take my mask tonight.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Come on then.” I stroll to the Gilded Cage room. We step through the mirror, where the staff can’t see us, and change masks. “Does that mean I get to leave with the Egyptian Queen?”

“Not while I’m here.” I finish the rest of my drink and exit the small room.

Fable

Music pulses through the air with a techno mix of a famous pop song. The ballroom is intoxicating, even though it’s much less crowded than I imagined. Considering the size of the space, I expected hundreds of people and was happily surprised at the smaller number. Events like this are easier to serve and navigate. So far, the first three hours have gone smoothly. I even have a routine down for my rounds. The room is stunning, like something from a movie with how everything sparkles. I have to focus on what I’m doing so I don’t stop and stare.

Neither the guests nor the Lords have shown an ounce of interest in the staff. None seems to care either. All five Lords are here tonight. I stop at the bar to get more drinks. There’s a designated spot where we can walk right up and refill our trays. I’m on drink duty. Noah is serving hors d’oeuvres, and there’s a buffet of more in the back for guests to help themselves.

She walks up to where I stand, waiting for the bartender to refill my tray with champagne flutes. Even with my five-inch platform heels, I still feel short compared to her. Then again, she’s wearing heels too.

“Are you having a good time?” she asks.

“It’s like a fantasy world.” I glance at sparkles moving across the black and gold walls before bringing my gaze to her face. I can’t see her eyes behind the net material covering them. Her white-and-gold peacock mask looks pretty next to her dark skin.

All the servers wear Venice carnival costumes. The short satin dress has lace ruffles at the hem and pairs with a black velvet jacket featuring gold piping. We wear white lace tights, a white wig that matches the costume, and a mask of our choice. I expected the mask to be regular-sized compared to this. It covers much more of the face but leaves the mouth exposed for drinking, eating, talking, and kissing. I’ve seen lots of that on the dance floor and in the private rooms. Those rooms are unlike anything I’ve ever imagined. Noah showed them to me on the tour. Even though I’d never want to be trapped in a cage, I liked the gilded one the best for the glitz and playfulness it held. It has a stripper pole on a marble table, surrounded by circular couches.

The one time I entered through the faux mirror tonight, there was a guy swinging on it. For fun or for real? I have no idea. He was laughing. The other four people in the room were too.

He held out his hand for me to join him, but then noticed I wasn’t wearing a red feather.

“Two of the Lords have disappeared already,” Noah says. “You know what that means.” She grinds her hips, and I laugh.

“Which two?” She told me a little about them. Three could pass for brothers with similar heights and bodies. The two others aren’t as tall and have opposite physiques. A soccer player compared to Rugby. Only two wear the same mask every time. The wolf and the serpent. I hear the wolf is a jolly flirt, and the serpent only ever hooks up with the same woman. Camila.

“The bulky Lord and the one who wore the lion mask,” she answers.

“How can you not know who they are? I would think you could guess who’s who by their accents?”

She bends and rests her elbows on the counter. “That would be nice, but too easy. They switch accents just to mess with everyone, so you never know who you’re talking to. But I’ll let you in on a secret: the Americans can’t do a British accent very well.”

I gape at one of the sexy Lords at the bar in his blood-red velvet jacket and Greek god mask, complete with gold feathers as hair. “No wonder you can’t figure out who you were with.”

“I know which two it wasn’t and that’s all.” She taps the cheek of my mask that’s made of gold lace and jewels. “You should get your red feather and see if a Lord bites.”

My cheeks heat with nerves, even as warmth pulses between my legs. “I’m good.”

“Maybe tomorrow.”

The bartender sets my tray in front of me. Before I return to serving, I ask Noah, “Did you just come over here to talk to me?”

“Yep. You’re allowed a break. I told you. Just let Camila know first.”

Camila always wears a mask of Nefertiti. From what I’ve learned, her job is to manage while mingling and hanging onto the arm of the Lord in the serpent mask, marking her territory.

I’ve only seen her twice tonight, but I don’t spend much time in one area so I wouldn’t.

After another thirty minutes, I decide a break would be nice for my aching feet. I’m not used to wearing heels for hours or at all. I drop off my tray and search the crowd for Camila. None of the guests are short, which makes me feel even smaller than I already do. Katia, a petite Russian server, is around my height, but the two of us seem to be the exception here.

Men wear black tuxes, with a few in all white. The women are dressed in designer clothes tailored to their gorgeous figures. Some outfits look like costumes while others are elegant gowns or slinky mini-dresses. I have no idea what anyone looks like behind their masks, which is a bit creepy, but also a bit comforting. I don’t have to worry about accidentally offending someone by looking at their face or meeting their gaze. The wealthy are weird like that. Not all, but most.

I spot Camila’s mask and head for her near the mirror to the Crimson Chamber. She’s standing between two Lords who could pass for sexy twins. One is wearing a serpent mask and the other a wolf.

It is incredibly awkward to have to interrupt their trio to see if I can leave, but I have no choice. It doesn’t help that I feel like a hobbit about to greet giants.