Free.
I’d exhausted every other option. This…this was the only way.
Had I simply run away, I would have been found. Hunted down by my father’s associates. Only with something as powerful as a death mask could Palmeria Lombard be reborn and have a chance at a new life.
That had been my plan.
It should have been easy.
And yet sometimes luck simply runs out.
Weeks after that terrifying night when the mask was cast to my face using a combination of magic and craft, I arranged to meet my guide for delivery of the item. I was at the doorstep of a new future when destiny thwarted my plans. On the day I was to take possession of the mask, a messenger arrived in place of my guide. At the agreed-upon meeting place, I was told by a nervous-looking boy with an ill-fitting face wrap that there had been an unfortunate “event.” He would not provide details other than to confirm that the mask had been damaged.
“My employer will replace the item, milady. It may take some time, you see. And we may have to charge you again if this one isn’t able to be fixed. It’s a mystery, you know, how this material works. We… He… Well, they…” The boy—definitely not the same man who’d carried me down a staircase into a lair not of human making—had a voice that cracked as he struggled over his words. Perhaps not over what to say, but what he knew he must not reveal.
“Well, miss,” he rushed on, “I’d best be on my way. You have our apologies. My boss will discount a portion of his delivery fee on account of the delay.”
I stopped him before he could leave, unable to keep disappointment and terror from bursting through my chest.
“Give it to me,” I demanded. “Damaged or not, I wish to keep that which I’ve paid so dearly for.”
I could see his light-brown eyes through the crudely cut slits in the fabric that covered his face. He was young, quite a bit younger than me, and looked afraid.
“You w-want it?” he stammered, as if he’d been told exactly what to say and was unprepared for anything more. “But it’s worthless now. It will not work, milady. Surely there—”
“I’ll take it nonetheless. Thank you,” I added, softening my tone.
A moment’s confusion passed over what I could see of the boy’s eyes, but he did pull a crude linen sack from under his cloak. As he unlaced it, I offered him a quarter silver to give me the pouch as well. I couldn’t very well carry a mask of my own face—a mask that could not have been made without illegally using magic or, worse, illegally engaging with nonhuman creatures—openly through the square.
If I were caught in possession of such an object, I would not enjoy any favor because of my family’s name or business. There would be no trial, no inquiry. Not even the long position of trust my father held with the queen would protect me. The consequence of holding such an item would be simple: execution.
Since none but the guide and the creatures who’d made the mask knew it existed, as long as I kept the object hidden, I could keep peril away. Or so I hoped.
Palmeria Lombard, daughter of Lord Dennes and Lady Petra Lombard, conspiring with nonhumans and dealing in dark magic. I stifled a chuckle despite the mortal danger I was in. My family was no stranger to secrets and scandal, but this? I had never planned to outdo my own parents, but it appeared they had in fact trained me well.
A chance at an honest life. That was what I wanted, and I’d had but one opportunity to purchase it. Instead of me dying that night in the lair deep below ground, somehow, my death mask had met its untimely end. And with it, my hope.
I tucked the forbidden item deep beneath my mattress. It would be several hours before the staff would turn down my bed, so I said a small prayer to the gods to protect it from discovery. Even though it was now useless, I couldn’t bear to part with it. Giving it up meant I’d exhausted every strategy and had no further moves to play.
Except the stake of this game was my life. And I was not yet prepared to forfeit.
* * *
I paddeddown the cavernous stone staircase into the main hall of my father’s manor. The torches lining the walls, their oak handles mounted into crown-shaped sconces, flickered as I rushed past. Tucked under one arm was my precious backgammon board. In my free hand, I carried a small pouch with my dice and checkers secured inside. My perfectly conditioned leather soles made scarcely a sound as I ran, but I was neither quick nor quiet enough to avoid my nemesis.
“Miiiiissssss Lommbard… Good evening.” The gratingly familiar voice over-enunciated my name and brought the hairs on the back of my neck to standing. “I don’t suppose you’re heading to the crofter’s residence…at this hour? Allow me to call an attendant to accompany you back to your quarters.”
My father’s butler looked tired, the edges of his wispy gray moustache slightly downturned. Butler Norwin always looked tired, as was fitting for a man who made a career of chasing away people’s joy. His cheeks, spotted with age, puffed comically as he exhaled a long breath. His mouth opened unnaturally wide as he smacked his lips—no doubt so he could savor the taste as he swallowed my hopes and dreams.
I groaned softly as I slowed my steps. “Good evening, Norwin. I am fine, thank you. I’ll not need attending, nor will I be returning to my quarters.” I’d naively hoped to escape quietly into the night, but the senior member of the Lombard household staff would prevent that as though it was his primary duty.
He paced the front hall at the base of the steps. “Miss, surely you realize the evening grows late. And you”—Norwin wrinkled one side of his mouth in distaste at the game in my hands— “appear to have plans with the crofter boy. I don’t suppose your parents…”
“The crofter boy,” I interrupted, jabbing a finger to emphasize my point, “is my…friend.”
I stopped short ofcalling him what he actually was—my half brother—since I heard Mother’s footsteps behind me. Though she moved lightly, the torches flickered as she took each wide step with the gravity of a descending goddess.
“Butler Norwin,” Lady Lombard said stiffly.