The curtains closed, and after a brief interlude for applause, they opened again to reveal a new set of characters. A great king, his crown even larger than the last, his mask snarling like a bear. A queen, her mask an echo of the previous queen’s. And a prince, wearing a red mask that only covered his eyes.
Rodric slid his hand out of her grip.
“It was my birthday,” he murmured. She could barely hear him over the music. “I’d been dreading it for years. Disappointing everyone on my eighteenth birthday—not the best way to come of age.”
“It was your birthday?” Aurora looked at him. “I didn’t know.”
“It’s all right,” Rodric said. “I didn’t tell you.”
Onstage, the prince approached the sleeping princess. The music swelled.
“Happy birthday,” Aurora said.
The fictional prince kissed the girl. She awoke and swooned in his arms. How much simpler things would be, if that were true. One kiss, and they would live happily ever after.
The play ended, the court applauded, and the king stood up. “Excellent,” he said. “Excellent! How quaint. After the wedding, I will have to ask you to prepare it as a masque for us. I’m sure the court would love to play parts, and Rodric and Aurora as well.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the lead actor said. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“What’s a masque?” Aurora asked Rodric as they moved into a neighboring room full of comfier chairs and the smell of wine. “A new type of play?”
“Yes, Princess,” Rodric said. “It’s a bit more elaborate. There’s singing and dancing, and big speeches, and of course everyone wears masks. I dread them, if I’m honest with you. But you’ll be wonderful.”
“Why do you dread them?”
“Because we all have to be in them. We don’t have lines, but they always want us to dance. I’m not a good dancer.”
“If everyone wears masks,” Aurora said, “then it doesn’t matter. How will they know that it’s you?”
“I know that it’s me,” he said. “That’s bad enough.”
Aurora stuck close to Rodric’s side as the court buzzed around them, commenting on the play, expressing their delight, always speaking at them instead of to them. Aurora nodded as they spoke, the back of her hand brushing against Rodric’s. No one cared that she was not in love with her future husband, or that she had shown little sign of being their savior. But for the first time, she knew that Rodric was trapped in this too. She felt it like a fist clenching beneath her ribs. The play had misrepresented them both.
One of the court ladies, Alexandra, slipped her arm through Aurora’s and turned her aside. “Such a lovely play,” she said. “Did you see the like often, in the past?”
“Not often,” Aurora said. “I was not allowed to leave my tower much, and my father would not invite actors to the castle. They travel so much that it’s impossible to keep track of who they really are.”
“And of course, they are the masters of pretense,” Alexandra said. “Any actor who isn’t would not be worth seeing.” She smiled.
“Perhaps you should be an actress, Alexandra.” Finnegan had appeared behind them. “A beauty like you.”
Alexandra leaned closer to Aurora. “Shall we ignore him?” she whispered. “Nothing is more likely to infuriate him than a little silence.”
“Ignore me? Why would you do such a terrible thing? Surely the princess is too kindhearted for that. All I want is your adoration.”
“I’m afraid that all my adoration is spent on Rodric,” Aurora said. “You’ll have to rely on Alexandra, and she doesn’t seem inclined to give it.”
“You wound me, the both of you.” He pressed a hand on his heart, as though they had stabbed him there. “I’ll leave if you wish, but know you’ll be torturing me, as I imagine all the things you are saying behind my back.”
Alexandra only curtsied, and Finnegan bowed and walked away.
“Infuriating man,” Alexandra said. She didn’t criticize him the way Iris did, full of barely controlled loathing. She smiled as she spoke, sounding almost amused.
Aurora arranged her features into the most innocent expression she could muster. “You don’t like him?”
“Oh, I like him fine enough,” Alexandra said. “But you can’t let him think that. It’s much more fun to let him think we dislike him. It will only infuriate him, and make him try harder for our approval.”
Aurora doubted that Finnegan was under any illusion about how much Alexandra liked him.
“I hear he is engaged to Princess Isabelle.”
Alexandra wafted a hand through the air. “For now,” she said. “Who knows how these things will turn out?” She sighed, and her grip on Aurora’s elbow tightened. “It must be so nice to have everything laid out for you. To marry Rodric, and know it is the right thing. Nothing can go wrong. Are you excited for the engagement presentation tomorrow?”
“Of course,” Aurora said. “Excited, and nervous.”
“Don’t be nervous,” Alexandra said. “It’s all been decided, hasn’t it? You know how things will go. And it’s all so romantic.”
“Yes,” Aurora said. “It is very romantic.”
“Alexandra!” A group of three ladies called from across the room. “Come play whist with us. We need another person to make up the table!”
Alexandra glanced at Aurora. “But the princess—”
“Go,” Aurora said. “I don’t mind. Besides, if you are busy on a full card table, Finnegan won’t have a chance to talk to you. It’s perfect.”
Alexandra smiled. “If you’re sure—”
“Of course,” Aurora said. “Make him mad with envy.”
Alexandra curtsied and glided across the room. Aurora lingered where they had been standing, casting around for Rodric or another familiar face. The prince had been pulled into conversation on the other side of the room, the king beside him. Aurora did not want to interrupt. But before she could find another option, Finnegan was beside her again.
“You did not fancy putting together a card set, Princess?”
“And miss the opportunity to talk to you? Your words to me during the play were so delightful.”
“The play did lack a little something, didn’t it? I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.”
“Perhaps it lacked silence,” Aurora said. “I hear that was meant to be the point.” She turned away, bristling with annoyance. He was so confident, so smug. Yet the most frustrating thing was that she almost enjoyed talking to him. She had never met anyone who annoyed her before, who made it their goal to get under her skin.
“No, what I think it lacked was realism,” Finnegan said. “Although I suppose that suits this place. I often think that Alyssinia’s courtiers would make excellent actors themselves.”
“And you?”
“Oh, Princess,” he said. “I do believe it’s my specialty.”