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The note tucked under the string read: A feather and a song, my lady. They will not know you for human if you wear the mask. Transportation will be provided to return you before the dawn.
With shaking hands, I unwrapped the package and spread the contents out on the bed. I then spent several long minutes afraid to touch them. A ball gown. A mask. And an invitation.
The mask was black and smooth, decorated with shining tui feathers. There were no ribbons to attach it with. Without letting myself think too much, I held the mask up to my face in the mirror.
The mask shifted subtly.
I gasped and snatched it away, thinking of the tale of the Enchanted Beast, who’d lived for years unable to remove his bespelled mask. But my mask came away cleanly, thank the Thorned Sister. When my heart had stopped pounding, I examined it and found that the mask’s contours had altered to match my own face.
Warily, I replaced the mask, and the fit was now so perfect that it held firmly in place even without a ribbon.
I gasped again when I looked in the mirror. The disguise did more than hide the upper half of my face, and I touched my ears wonderingly. They still felt round, but in the mirror, they were pointed, and the bits of my face not hidden by the mask gave an impression of fantastical beauty.
I squashed the sudden urge to smash the mirror to smithereens, turning away and taking the mask off instead. I looked again at the things laid out on the bed. Did I dare? If anyone discovered the ruse, my stepfamily would be furious, and the fae court might be more than furious. Humans are forbidden at the Golden Hall. I didn’t know what the punishment might be for breaking that. Was the risk worth it? What if I ruined Acantha’s chances of marrying royalty?
The king will never know she exists.
I shrugged out of my clothes. Maybe I could just sneak into the edges of the ball, and if the illusion didn’t seem to hold, I could come away again, having at least enjoyed a glimpse of it. It seemed a shame to let the efforts of the tui go to waste. How had he managed this?
The dress was midnight green, darkly iridescent as a tui’s feathers, with silver beading up its front and feathers worked into the design at the neckline. Silver shoes to match, which underwent the same disconcerting personalization as the mask when I put them on.
I considered my hair uncertainly, and then let it out of its tight braid. It fell in a dark brown wave halfway down my back. The mask’s enchantment somehow managed to make this look glamorous and interesting.
My heart hammered as I crept down through the quiet house, but none of the house brownies stirred. Outside, the moon had risen, and I saw the transportation: a black carriage pulled by a white stag. I got in.
I had seenthe Golden Hall only at a distance before, its organic form blending with the forest, the yellow-tiled roofs of its tallest towers rising above the canopy in bursts of color. My hands trembled as I showed my invitation, but the guards let me through without challenge, and I was abruptly here, on forbidden ground, swelling with excitement mixed with terror. I couldn’t believe my own daring.
The great ballroom lay open to the stars and was bordered by gnarled, twining kowhai trees, their golden flowers in full bloom. I searched their branches, wondering whether Golden was hiding there. Or was he among the crowd? I’d heard it was possible for a powerful fae to shape-change, but I’d never met one that could before. Golden’s magic was certainly powerful, because fae lords and ladies dipped their heads in acknowledgment as I passed, accepting me as one of them.
I spotted my stepsisters on the dance floor and hastily huddled toward the edges of the room. The twisting yearning that had driven me here wavered.
“—?yes, I have only the two daughters.” Lady Bloodthorn’s voice nearby.
I froze and slowly turned my head. My stepmother stood talking to a fae with gossamer dragonfly wings. They looked to belong to House Sweetgrass.
“I had heard you kept a human changeling in your household?” the dragonfly fae asked in a tone of honeyed poison.
Lady Bloodthorn tittered. “Who doesn’t? I am fond of the pet, but it is not the same thing as family, of course.”
Lady Bloodthorn turned before I could hide, but her gaze skimmed over me without recognition. The illusion was holding. Great. Fine. I was fine. I was grateful my stepmother was fond of me.
But my hands shook, and I glared at the whirling dancers. I wasn’t grateful; I was angry. The dark, reckless emotion rose up through my cracks. I wanted to do something ill-advised. Something to force all these fine fae lords and ladies to acknowledge the lowly human.
That was when I saw the lord of the golden wood, King Tawhiri. Tall, with deep bronze skin and dark hair that sparkled in the feylights, he would have been arresting even without the antlers and the great feathered wings. Those were a bit of a surprise, more of a sign of mixed blood than I’d expected, but there was no mistaking him. When he came off the dance floor, men and women crowded in, vying to be next. And yet there was a sense of stillness about him, as if he were the eye of the hurricane around which the rest of the world turned. With his face in profile, half-covered by a mask, I couldn’t help considering his jawline. It was well enough, I supposed, but, really, Acantha—river cliffs? You didn’t think to mention the enormous feathery wings while you were getting caught up in poetic detail? Or that he had antlers? How dare he scorn Rose’s appearance, the hypocrite!
Tawhiri opened his mouth to answer one of the courtiers—and then saw me and broke off mid-sentence. Oh no. Just what sort of magic had the tui imbued my mask with? Had the king seen through it? Should I run? What if that made things worse? Could I bluff it out? At the same time, that simmering anger bubbled up, and I found myself lifting my chin, refusing to look away.
Had I gone mad? But it was too late to run now, so I held myself with a stiff confidence I didn’t feel as he strode toward me. As he drew closer, I saw that his mask was accented with the same feathers as my own. The same feathers that made up his vast wings, currently furled tightly against his back.
I’m not an idiot. My building panic flooded right back into anger, even hotter than before. Call me Golden, my left foot. Up close, I could see his blue-black hair was tipped with bright silver, like the back of a tui’s head. His snowy-white cravat evoked the tuft at a tui’s throat. A feather and a song, indeed! He could have granted me true freedom, but instead he’d played me for a fool.
“Will you dance, my lady?” he said in the same smooth midnight voice I’d heard from a bird much earlier that day.
“You,” I said flatly.
“Me,” he agreed, holding out his hand. The sheer arrogance!
He’s a king!I reminded myself. Of course he’s arrogant! You’re a human in the middle of a forbidden fae court! Don’t do anything foolish! Or at least not more foolish than you have already.
