Night of Masks and Knives (The Broken Kingdoms Book 4)

The Master of Ceremonies kept a wicked pace. Smoke and screams rose over the spires of the Black Palace. Dry tears burned behind my eyes. All thought spun to Kase, the Kryv, to Hagen. Eero had betrayed us and there was no telling what damage he’d done to the plan of the Nightrender.

″In here.” The master stopped in front of a black tent. He shoved me inside first, then looked over his shoulder before sliding in after me.

All around the dark room were mirrors, taller than me, and placed in an orderly glass maze. A tent for folk to get lost in illusions and confusion as they wandered amongst their own distorted reflections.

″Malin.”

My heart squeezed. That was not the altered voice of before. I held my breath and turned over my shoulder.

The Master of Ceremonies tucked his thumb beneath the chin of the mask and removed it. Jens Strom stared back at me.

″Malin,” he said, desperately. Almost gentle. I’m not sure what unnerved me more, Jens as the Master of Ceremonies or the way he looked as if he might fear for me. He reached for my arm again.

I ripped it back. “You . . . you were there. With Hagen.” Hot, blinding anger replaced fear. “You were going to watch him be sold!”

″You do not understand the precarious position we are in. Bard told me you were here—”

“Bard?” An ache bloomed behind my eyes. My stepbrother went to my stepfather—the Master of Ceremonies—and told him I was in distress? Or did he go to rage that his stupid little mouse had slipped into the masque once again?

″Malin,” Jens said, drawing me back to the moment. “I have overseen the Masque av Aska for no other reason than to protect the children in my care.”

″Protect?” I was spinning in a heady sort of madness. “Protection would mean saving your son from an evil trade.”

″I did! There were arrangements in place,” he roared in my face. “I am not here to defend my position to you. I am here to get you out alive. You will leave Klockglas, Malin. You’ve gone too far and meddled in dangerous things you do not understand. I promised your mother I would always protect you, and by the gods, that is what I will do.”

I pulled back again when he reached for me. “I am here with the Nightrender. If anyone would protect me, it is him. Not a man who would sell his own son.”

Jens’s face deepened into an angry purple, as if he held his breath and forgot to release it. “The boy has led you straight into danger. He knew better, and yet—”

″The boy?” My fingertips tingled. “All gods, you know the Nightrender is Kase.” A flurry of rage boiled beneath my skin. In the next breath, my fists swung, striking Jens in the chest over and over. “You got rid of him, you bastard! You’re the Master of Ceremonies. You knew he was an Alver and you traded him!”

Jens gripped my wrists, forcing me to stop my attack. “I would have guarded the boy as I guarded the rest of you. He made his choice.”

″What choice?” My voice broke, but no tears fell. I was too angry to cry. Too murderous to sob.

″To keep you from the curse of this.” Jens held up the glowing glass ring.

I blinked. “Why is it doing that?”

″Because of you. It is yours, Malin. Yours.”

″No. That is a game, a jest, a legend, and—”

″It is real.” Jens slammed the ring in my palm. A blast of heat, something warm, strong, and comforting rushed through my veins. He curled my fingers around the glass. “You are the heir of the Eastern Kingdom. Malin, your mother was the last heir and murdered for it. She was not my wife.”

″What?”

“She’d lived her life in hiding but was discovered. Still, she managed to find me, knowing the fates had called me to protect the royal lines with their gifts. I made a vow to protect you from the curse that comes from the greed for that ring.”

″My mother did not die from plague?”

“No. She died two days after arriving to my home from a knife wound. But I was known to those who needed refuge, having already taken two children.” He paused. “You, Bard, and Hagen are from the royal lines, but you are the one born of the last heirs.”

“But Hagen and Bard, they don’t work in memories.”

“Not everyone born of the royal bloodlines shares the same mesmer. But your mother came from the line of the first prince, your father from the line of the second. They are both dead, but between them was born the true claim to the throne. Like your parents, such a claim is a death sentence. I have made it my duty to ensure the lines live on and never fully die.”

This made no sense. Bard and Hagen were not his sons? He was not my mother’s husband?

″If this is true, why hide us? What does it matter to keep me here, if not to put me on the throne?”

″To let you live,” he said with a heavy sadness.

″You’ve kept me in a stable, working until my bones ached. You do not care for me.”

Jens closed his eyes. “You were to be no one. A little mouse no one looked twice at. Perhaps, I did not do this right, but everything was to keep you hidden and alive. I’ve seen such slaughter in my life.

″Ivar, and many before him, have hunted anyone with a drop of blood from the royal lines, killing them off as children, as infants, Malin. Your parents were the few who were grown, but even they were destroyed. If the bloodlines died off, what would become of us?”

I said nothing. Simply paced, heart racing.

″Anyone who suspected the truth of what I was doing, I twisted their tongues,” he said. “I am a Profetik with spoken word, but my Talent resides in the truths and lies we speak. I can force folk not to speak the truth. Should they try, only lies will spill out. Now, please. We must go. I will pay for your passage away from Klockglas, but you must promise to never return.”

″No!” I held up a hand. “I want to know what you did to Kase. Why you took him from me.”

Jens sighed, closing his eyes for a few breaths. He dug beneath his fine, pressed shirt and pulled out two vials on silver chains. “Never did I think I’d give these to you, but after Bard came to me, I knew these were no longer mine to keep. I am glad I have them.”

Bone dust.

Jens held up one in a black capped vial. “The last thoughts of your mother. Her request was to store her memory for you. She taught me how it was done.” He tucked it into my trembling hand, then held up a vial with a red cap. “I created only one other in my life. One I felt would have importance for you someday. Taken from a masquerade ten turns ago.”

I ought to feel ashamed for choosing the red first over the dying thoughts of the woman who gave me life. But my heart was the Nightrender’s, and I burned to know it all.

″Whose memory is it?”

″My former steward. You remember Jarlborg? How he tailed me like a shadow.”

″You killed him?”

Jens winced. “Necessary. This was too important.”

Oh, the villainous lengths we all took. Truth be told, we all were a little monstrous in our own ways.

I snatched the vial of the old memory, counting on it being weak, but when I tipped the crushed bone onto my tongue, the smoke came sharp, smells were pungent, everything was bright and in color.

The first scene was familiar because I had the same memory. The only difference was the vantage point. My own childish laughter echoed. Two children ran around the bright ribbon pole, teasing each other. My red braids slapped my cheeks, and Kase’s dark messy hair fell into his eyes.

My stepfather had been near us. I never knew.

″She shouldn’t be here.”

“She snuck out. They’re too clever for their own bleeding good,” came another familiar voice.

Hagen stood beside Jens.

Jens, in the memory, let out a long sigh. “He knows of her. We must take her from here now.”

″He only knows you have a powerful Alver in your house,” Hagen said. “It could be me. I will take the blow.”

″And abandon your boy? Your woman who carries your second child?” Jens pressed. Hagen’s eyes shadowed as he looked to the ground.

″He’s coming for her,” Jens went on. “I’ve failed. They’re going to take Malin and kill her. I know it.”

″Who’s taking Mallie?”

My heart fluttered as I observed Hagen and Jens whip around. Jarlborg’s sight followed to a skinny boy with tousled hair and bright golden eyes.

Eyes so alive back then, so innocent.

″Kase,” Jens said, straightening his shoulders. “You and Malin should not have come here. You’ll be disciplined when we return.”

Young Kase shuffled his feet, head down. “Yes, Lord Strom. But—” He hesitated, gaining his nerve. “But who’s taking Mallie?”

″No one, Kase,” Hagen said.

″You said they’re going to kill her. I heard you.” He grew bolder. I desperately wished I could reach into the memory and touch the boy, warn him to run and never look back.

When no one answered him, Kase stepped forward. “It’s the Lord Magnate, isn’t it? Tell me the truth, Lord Strom. I know he likes to cut throats, and if he’s going after Mallie, I won’t let him. I won’t.”

Jens looked at the boy with a tormented shadow in his eyes. “We have a bit of trouble, but it isn’t for you to fret over.”

″They know she’s a creepy Alver.”

I almost smiled at his innocence, but tears came instead as I watched it all unfold.

″They know strong mesmer is in our household,” Jens said firmly. “Now, both you and Malin get on home. It is not safe here.”

″They don’t know it’s her?” Kase kept pressing. His damn stubbornness would not allow him to let up easily. “But they know mesmer comes from someone and they’re going to start killing folk at House Strom to find it?”

In the memory Jens looked to Jarlborg, as if he hesitated to speak so openly in front of the steward.

″I’m not a little,” Kase snapped, then sobered when my stepfather shot him a narrowed look. “With all respect, Lord Strom. I’m not a little. Tell me if they’re going to take Mallie and test her mesmer.”

″Daj,” Hagen warned when Jens lowered into a crouch, so he could meet Kase in the eye.

″Yes,” Jens said, ignoring Hagen, and leveling with his stable boy. “Yes, they will start testing mesmer, and will start with Malin since she is a girl.”

″Girls make the Lord Magnate nervous,” Kase said more to himself. He scratched his head, voice trembling. “But what if they had a different Alver? What if they thought the one with creepy mesmer was . . . someone else?”

″Kase, I know you care for Malin,” Hagen said. “But a Rifter isn’t going to be enough to convince them we don’t have Anomali mesmer at House Strom.”

″But it is an answer.” Kase kicked a pebble and looked to Jens. “Isn’t it, Lord Strom? I listened to you, you know? I’ve not shown anyone what I can really do.”

Hagen furrowed his brow. “What you can really do? Daj?”

Jens was conflicted. Written in every line of his face, he battled with his next steps. Protect the girl or the boy. “You love Mal, don’t you boy?”

″I don’t ever want to stop being friends,” Kase said. “I don’t want her dead. Makes me sick in my stomach to think it. Does that mean I love her?”

″I say that is love,” Jens told him.

It was so unnerving to witness such kindness in the man, such a soft demeanor. I hardly knew what to think.

Kase clenched his fists the same way he did now. “Put me forward then, Lord Strom. Send me; tell them I’m the one they’re after.”

″Kase,” Hagen stepped forward. ’Don’t. We’ll find a way to get you both safe. All of us.”

″Where Hagen?” Jens snapped. “To the north? You know better than anyone how vicious that kingdom is to magic folk. Do you truly think any wretched place in this world would not sell back the heir to a broken throne to the tyrant who holds it? If Ivar thinks she exists, he will not rest.”

Kase’s eyes widened. “Mallie is the heir?”

″Daj, Kase will not appease Ivar forever,” Hagen said. “He’ll begin his obsession again once he catches wind of some rumor that an heir exists. This is a cruel solution for a problem that won’t end.”

My stepfather sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Kase gripped my father’s arm, the way children reach for something soft and warm when they’re afraid. “But it might give time to think of a different plan, right, Lord Strom?”

Jens lifted his eyes to the boy.

Kase didn’t blink away. “He can’t have her. I won’t let him.”

″If you’re telling me to put you forward in her place, be certain,” Jens said.

Kase blinked a few times, then nodded. “I am, Lord Strom.”

″Kase, no,” Hagen said, but stopped when Jens held up a hand.

“You realize the dangers of this?” Jens asked. “You understand it will be hard to ever be free of Ivar?”

Kase swallowed. “I know.”

″Daj.” Hagen looked ready to tear his hair out. “No.”

Jarlborg had a nauseous turmoil, and I thought I might retch if the steward did in the memory.

″The boy is right,” Jens said, a little more tortured than before. “He is not a child. He can make his choices.”

Hagen cursed under his breath and paced.

″Will I die?” Kase asked, voice soft.

The question drew my stepfather to pause. “I will be around the Black Palace, Kase. I will do all I can to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

″It’s just, if I die, I want someone to tell Mallie not to be sad,” he said, tears in his eyes. “Tell her I was brave.”

A bloom of reluctance shadowed my stepfather’s face. A chill danced up my spine.

″You’re certain?” Jens asked.

″I am.”

Hagen gritted his teeth. But he did not stop the boy. No doubt if Gunnar had not existed, my brother would not have allowed this. He would’ve gone instead. The torment of being torn between two worlds cut deep grooves into his face when he gripped Kase’s shoulder.

″You are brave, Kase,” Hagen said. “You promised me you’d always look after her, and you have honored that promise.”

Hagen tugged the boy against his chest. Kase shuddered when he let out a gasp of air.

No. I couldn’t see this. The pain, the fear, it breathed through every thought in the steward’s mind as he watched my stepfather tie Kase’s tongue to never speak the truth of me, to never speak of what happened that day. Jens did the same to Hagen.

It was no wonder the Nightrender insisted he could not explain how he came to be at the Black Palace.

From there I witnessed Jens facing Ivar’s personal armies. My heart skipped at the sight of Boswell Doft standing in the doorway of the Black Palace, grinning. In mere moments the future Nightrender was surrounded by skydguard.

Somewhere in the distance, still in the memory, my voice called for Kase, happily oblivious to what was about to happen. The boy’s lip trembled as the guards took him by the arms. My young voice grew louder, more frantic as I searched for him.

″W-Will you tell Mallie,” Kase stammered through streaks of tears now. “Will you tell her I didn’t leave her because she was a bad friend? She isn’t. She’ll cry. I don’t . . .” He hiccupped. “I don’t want her to cry.”

Jarlborg’s heart raced, the thrum flowed into my own heartbeat as his memory deepened in my own mind.

Jens’s voice croaked. “I’ll tell her.”

He did. I recalled the night Jens explained Kase would always want me to know I was his dearest friend, and I should take solace for being a lucky one to experience such a friendship. One of the few moments of softness the man had given me as a girl.

The smoke faded at the last word. My stepfather must’ve ended Jarlborg soon after. The man never did return to our longhouse, and now I knew why.

I slumped over my knees. Hot tears blurred my sight.

″It was his choice, Malin.”

I clutched the sides of my head. “You should’ve saved him, protected him.”

″Who do you think made certain their escape was unhindered? Who do you think suggested the boy be the Alver of the kind son? I did all I could.”

My breath caught in my throat. Truth could be a curse. I’d come to the masquerade believing a great many things, and I would leave with a burden I could not bear. The weight of it already crushed every piece of me.

Something pounded outside the tent. My stepfather’s eyes jumped to one corner, then back to me. “You must leave.”

I shook my head. I was drowning, unable to draw breath.

When a loud snap of tent poles bending echoed through our silence, I jumped back. The canvas blocking us from sight, shredded as a blacksteel blade dug into the threads. I let out a cry of relief, of devotion, of love, and scrambled toward him the moment the Nightrender shoved inside.

Shadows enrobed his shoulders like a misty cloak. Kase held his blacksteel so tightly, his knuckles were white. The gold of his eyes deepened to hot, coal black. He took in the tent—me, crying on the ground, my stepfather locked in a stunned glare.

It lasted only a moment before Jens shook his head. “No! Kase, don’t.”

Kase didn’t listen. He lifted a hand and a whirlwind of dark mesmer swallowed me whole. Within moments I was in Kase’s arms, his shadows dragging us away.

I screamed against his chest as stone and canvas split. My feet lifted, my stomach lurched, and soon I was thrown onto the ground outside. The clink of glass on stone echoed in my ears as the ring spilled out of my hand, rolling a dozen paces away.

″Malin!” Kase picked himself up from his knees and ran to me. He’d broken us out of the tent and crumbled it. Jens Strom was alive but lost in a sea of canvas and poles. Kase lifted me to my feet, his hands slid over my arms tenderly. “Hurry. We need to go to the boathouse.”

″You took my place,” I said in a gasp. “I saw the truth Kase. I was supposed to be taken and—”

He silenced me with a fierce kiss. It hurt more than it was sweet. Teeth and lips cut against each other, and it ended too soon. “I would again a thousand times over.”

″Kase . . . the ring.” I pointed at the glowing runes on the glass.

″Don’t.” He pulled me in the opposite direction. “Leave it. Please Mallie, do not touch it. It brings misery and death. Now, hurry. The Lord Magnate is coming, and we are well past the twelfth hour.”