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Chapter 26: Ghosts Wear Masks Too
Damon lit the letter on fire.
He didn't need to keep it.
Didn't need to hold the words to know the insult.
Lucien had written just enough to make it sting — a threat disguised as warning, veiled just enough to be deniable.
He tossed the ash aside and turned to the silent man in the corner.
"Find me everything you can on Lucien Kings. Where he's been. Who he's spoken to. Who still owes him favors."
The man bowed low. "And if I find him?"
Damon smiled.
But it wasn't kind.
> "Tell him the shadows he left behind bite harder now."
---
Bryant had never felt like a thief in his own home.
Until now.
He stood in Nyra's chamber long after she'd left, hand paused over a folded slip of parchment tucked beneath the edge of her mattress.
He didn't want to see it.
But he did.
A sketch.
Rough.
Unfinished.
But unmistakably her.
Drawn from memory — soft eyes, untamed hair, and at the bottom…
One word, written in Lucien's distinct, slanted hand:
> Mine.
Bryant stared at it.
Not out of jealousy.
Not out of rage.
But because the drawing looked like Nyra before the scar.
Before the cage.
Before him.
---
Elsewhere in the palace, the Queen Dowager walked the length of her private hall with silent precision.
Servants scurried behind her, hands full of silk and masks and old wine.
"The Masquerade of Blood and Bone will begin in three nights," she said.
"Every courtier is to attend. No titles. No names. No lines between predator and prey."
She paused before a large armoire and opened it.
Inside: a dress made of midnight and silver thread.
The last time it had been worn—
A Smith girl died before the final song played.
Elaria ran her hand over the fabric and smiled.
History, after all, had a flair for rhythm.
---
That night, as Nyra prepared for sleep, a soft knock echoed at her door.
No voice. No footstep.
Just a letter.
She opened it slowly.
The paper was thick. Luxurious. Scented with sage and ash.
Inside, in bloodred ink:
> They'll all be wearing masks, darling.
But I knew yours before they ever painted it on.
Come find me when the music turns to fire.
—L
Her hands trembled only once.
Then she reached for the silver blade on her nightstand.
If Lucien wanted to dance—
He'd better remember how sharp her steps had become.
---
[End of Chapter 26]