Bloodleaf (Bloodleaf 1)

“That was Zan’s rule?”

“Mine, but it is the most important. Now, off you go.”

Every lantern was lit for the event, and the normally gloomy castle glowed spectacularly. I donned my mask and, gathering my skirts and my courage, made my way up the granite staircase toward the doors, which were flung open in golden welcome, framing the glittering display of the party within.

Inside, my fears of being noticed subsided; as beautiful as my dress was, it didn’t stand out among so much of the spectacular. In the first ten feet from the entrance, I passed a woman resplendent in the colors of a peacock, a man with the sleek black coat of a feral cat, and a lady wearing the jewel-studded skull of what might have once been a bear.

Growing up, I’d attended balls on occasion: mostly stuffy, mirthless affairs, where people danced with stiff arms and a wide berth between partners. A Renaltan ball could never be too celebratory, lest it risk drawing rebuke from the Tribunal. Hedonism was only one step away from witchcraft in the eyes of the magistrates.

This was so completely unlike that. The air was humming with a jubilant energy. Everyone on the floor was dancing close together; those on the outskirts were laughing and eating with buoyant enthusiasm. One table was piled with meat: boar, pheasant, duck; another was heavily laden with decadent desserts and exotic fruits. Serving girls in pristine white smocks lined each table. I knew I was not supposed to enter the Great Hall, but I couldn’t stop myself from standing outside of it to watch the merriment. Would it have been like this if the party was for me? If I was the one they were celebrating, and not Lisette?

Lisette was impossible to miss, standing at the front and smiling proudly at the attendees like a shepherd over a flock of exemplary sheep. She was wearing a dress of gossamer and shards of colored glass, made to look like butterfly wings. Beside her, my brother sat in furry breeches, a floppy set of rabbit ears dangling in front of his eyes. He looked healthy and well, despite being deathly embarrassed. I almost laughed out loud, seeing him shrink into the chair, completely mortified, but I was heartened by the sight of him fidgeting with a little metal figurine in his lap. Someday, I decided, I’d have this scene painted. And then I’d wrap it extravagantly and give it to him as a birthday present. Or perhaps I’d save it until his coronation or wedding day and present it to him with all of Renalt watching.

The thought of a wedding brought me back to myself; standing beside Lisette, leaning heavily on Conrad’s high-backed chair, was a man in a feathered mask. His costume, too, was red and birdlike; it was obviously crafted to look majestic and mighty, but the hunch of his shoulders and the way he kept his head bowed made him look more farcical than fierce. Valentin, I guessed. The ineffectual, sickly prince. My once-betrothed. I should have been eager to finally get a look at him, but I was unsettled instead; I had a quest to fulfill, and I didn’t want to acknowledge that it wouldn’t be Zan waiting for me at the end of it.

Just then I felt a hand on my arm, and I turned to face a man wearing the mask of a wolf. He held up one hand, inviting me to dance, and I hesitantly took it.

“I thought you weren’t going to get dressed up,” I said as he placed a hand on the small of my back.

In response, he gave me a twirl, my dress breaking into a thousand gleaming sparkles in the light as I spun.

When he pulled me back in, I felt my heart quicken at the intensity of his embrace. His arms were strong, and they guided me with ease away from the crowd. We moved toward the terraces as we danced, away from the commotion of the hall.

The garden terraces were transformed into something out of a dream—?a fairy tale come to life. Globes with tiny candles were strung across the canopy, and colored ribbons drifted in the breeze. On the perimeter, tables had been laid out with pastries and tarts and spears of fruit cut into stars. He pulled me into a darkened corner, away from the eyes of the other guests.

Alone with him now, my breath hitched as I tentatively lifted his mask, nervous but eager to find Zan’s sardonic smile hidden behind the canine teeth.

Teeth. I’d seen those teeth in my vision.

But just as the mask was about to come off in my hands, the wolf’s eyes flashed and his hand closed around my throat.

“Toris.” I choked.

He let the empty-eyed mask drop. “You foolish girl. Always so reckless. Did you think I wouldn’t recognize the dress Genevieve toiled over for months?”

“Let me go!”

His hand tightened around my neck. “Where is the vial?”

“I don’t know what you’re—?” I couldn’t finish; he squeezed harder, cutting off my air.

“My relic,” he said. “The blood of the Founder. Where is it?”

I gagged and spluttered as stars began to dance underneath my eyelids. He relaxed his grip just long enough for me to say, coughing, “I don’t have it.”

“What have you done with it?”

“I’ve hidden it,” I lied, “and I’ve spelled it. If I die, it will be destroyed.” He let go of my throat.

“You think you can play this game, girl?”

“I’ve been playing a long, long time.” My hand had closed around the knife in my pocket.

“The quickest way to lose is to underestimate your opponent.”

“Exactly,” I said, and I slashed across hi

s costume with my knife.