Eighteenth Masquerade

My eighteenth birthday was a wild success, beyond anything I could have hoped for. It's Aunt Flora I have to thank, for she turned out to have an undercurrent of devious almost as strong as mine. It made me regret ever being unkindly towards her, and perhaps that was her goal all along. But deep down I understood that Flora never wanted anything other than the best for me. I’m quite sure she enjoyed the dig at father though, seeing as he was trying to exclude her from the plans entirely.

Aunt Flora approached me months ahead of time, quite enthusiastic over the idea of planning a gala event for my coming-of-age birthday. I never did have the heart to turn her down, and besides, it sounded fun.

She began organizing her plans to combine the party with a formal ball. I begged her to make it a masquerade ball, and she was delighted with the thought too. I'd long been fascinated with the concept, and wheels were already turning in my head. Aunt Flora said I just _couldn't_ see the decorating theme ahead of time, but I could choose one favorite thing for the banquet table. I've always loved exotic desserts, so I naturally requested my version of cherise jubilee, with cherries, strawberries, kiwi and chocolate crepes. If you've never tried it, I tell you, you've never lived.

The parts of the planning I _was_ allowed in on we mostly did up in Aunt Flora's rooms (where her scheduling books were readily available). And I can't help but wonder, in retrospect, if dear Aunt Flora didn't do that quite intentionally as well.

The party was still over a month away, when Father approached me after dinner one evening. He took my arm as I was leaving the Hall, asking me to come speak with him in the study. Surreptitiously noting the number of curious glances behind us, I shook my arm free distastefully.

"I suppose" I sighed loudly, sounding as put out as possible. Several of the glances turned to smiles and I had to cover my own. Father, a genial grin pasted on his face, acted as if he hadn't noticed. I suspected him up to something.

We reached the study in a moment and I sprawled across an overstuffed chair, affecting a bored expression. Father blithely poured a drink, ignoring my attitude and gazing at me with a patient smile. Curiosity piqued, I sat up slightly.

"Celeste dear" he began slowly, "I an aware that we don't always see eye to eye on things, but I’m sure you’ll agree how important your eighteenth birthday is. Naturally" he went on, "I am planning a proper celebration. It’s only right that I handle these preparations myself, no need to get Flora involved. I think a formal garden dinner would be appropriate and of course I’ve chosen the perfect musical accompaniment for the evening. And, after dinner, we’ll take care of that other bothersome, overdue business. Naturally, it will be family only, though there’s no need to have all of them there."

His voice dropped to a mutter talking to himself, I suppose, as if I weren’t even there, but I caught the words anyway.

"Julian, certainly, and likely Fiona I suppose, though I’m sure we can keep Brand out of this."

His voice rose again with great enthusiasm and he never noticed the gleam of pure hate that crept into my eyes at those words. Blithely unaware, he went on.

"Your finally taking the Pattern will be the perfect culmination to the day, as I’m sure you’re quite ready for it by now. Afterward, I’ve already decided on the perfect setting for your portrait. And, seeing as I arranged it so you’d have my coloring, you’ll be fitted for a powder gold gown with a darker trim. You’ll do nicely in that."

Echoes of my childhood boiled to the surface as I again heard him through the ears of a terrified five-year-old, speaking to my mother.

"Prettier than you. She’ll do nicely."

I covered my mouth to stifle the scream I felt building in my head. Inside, I howled in fury and pain, the suppressed scream echoing in my mind. I felt my eyes go wide in horror as he turned to grin at me, obviously proud of himself. The grin faded slightly at my expression.

"What?" he asked, slightly annoyed. "What’s wrong with you? Damn, did I forget something?" He was oblivious to what he’d just said, oblivious to the pain he’d triggered. I swallowed hard, forcing the bile back down my throat. In the momentary silence, I heard quick and quiet footfalls in the hallway. Father didn’t seem to notice them.

"No, no father" I said a bit too quickly, thinking fast. "It’s just that…well…I, um, already sort of had a gown picked out, and I really wanted to wear it, and…"

"Say no more" he raised a hand, the self-assured grin back to normal, "for such an occasion we can afford to indulge our little princess a bit, eh? Well, so long as it doesn’t conflict with my own colors, of course." And here he peered at me appraisingly, seeming to expect an answer.

Mutely I shook my head in disbelief, which he seemed content to take as confirmation that the colors were fine.

"Good, good" he enthused, "the rest I believe I’ll keep a secret for now. Wouldn’t want you to have no surprises on your birthday." Nauseatingly, he winked at me. "That will be all. I’ll send a servant to fetch you when things are ready. You may go now Celeste." He favored me with a smile, then turned to fix himself another drink. I could almost see him patting himself on the back.

I bolted from the room, only to pull up suddenly in front of the waiting Fiona.

"Celeste" she purred, as I cringed from her reaching hand, "what is wrong? I heard you in such distress, I knew you could use a friendly hug." She reached out and encircled me, the feeling of being trapped growing frantically in my mind.

"My brother must have said something just awful to you. Come on with me up to my room, let me help you forget about it." Her hand traced its way down my spine, electric shocks tingling in it's wake. It was only a brief foreshadowing of the horror she'd perpetuate on me in years to come, but it was enough to set alarm bells ringing.

"Puh-please" I stammered, "I just want to be alone for a little while. Ok? Please?"

There was a frightening moment when I thought she would not let me escape, then to my relief she backed off.

"Of course dear, but I want you to know that I'm always there if you need me" she said silkily.

Nodding and stammering a numb thank you to her, I ran for my room in tears. As I rounded the corner heading for the stairs, I nearly ran Brand over. His reflexes were superb as he neatly caught me, though he looked a bit surprised. My mind babbled crazily at me to escape from whatever was grasping me now, but panic subsided as I heard his voice close to my ear.

"Shh, shh, whoa slow down there." He glanced around once, carefully, then quickly steered me into a small sitting room that was infrequently used. Guiding me into a chair, he crouched down, keeping his hands on mine.

"Did they hurt you?" One hand reached up to smooth back my hair. "What did they do to you?"

I shook my head slowly. "It never ends, they just never leave me alone" I cried.

He nodded, thoughtfully. Shadows passed through his eyes and were gone.

"Tell me what happened."

I related the whole conversation to him, including the memory it had dredged up, and his eyes flashed angrily.

"Bleys will get what he deserves. You’ll be even with him someday," he said, and I believed him though the tone in his voice made me uneasy. He glanced around again, muttering something to himself that I couldn’t hear.

"Later" he said out loud, though I wasn’t sure what he meant. He looked back at me.

"Go on up and see Flora. You’ve got a lot to do…and this isn’t wise" he said much more kindly, giving me a quick hug.

Feeling much better, I went to Aunt Flora’s rooms. Somehow, I just forgot to mention the conversation to Aunt Flora. Guess it simply slipped my mind. Aunt Flora wouldn't let me in on the rest of her plans, and it turned out she was damn good at hiding detail. I waited impatiently for everything to play out.

Only a week before my birthday, I was pleasantly surprised to hear Father and Aunt Flora arguing near the study. Creeping closer, I eavesdropped for a moment.

"You will not commandeer my staff!" Aunt Flora was saying hotly. "They have their own duties, and I will not have one of my affairs ruined."

"Sister, be that as it may, I have certain requirements to be met. I have every intent of making my own plans perfect, and the resources available here..."

Aunt Flora cut him off in a huff. "Get you own staff Bleys. And stay out of the ballroom! I have it scheduled for that day."

Father dropped the reasonable voice, "What the hell are you planning that's so important I can't have a few people to lend me a hand?"

Aunt Flora actually sounded smug, "It hasn't been announced yet, and I won't spoil it just for you. The answer is no. My staff is busy, and my affairs take precedence."

Father stormed out of the study, not even noticing me in the shadows. Smiling, I ran off to Brand's room to tell him about the fight. We were busy coordinating our masquerade costumes that day anyway, as we had a few plans of our own.

The day before arrived, and Father was off in shadow somewhere, doing gods know what. Aunt Flora made the announcement for her Masquerade Ball, and invitations were all delivered precisely according to her schedule. She confided in me that absolutely everyone had promised to come, and I had to hide a snicker. Excitedly, I scampered back upstairs to put the finished touches on our masks.

As the evening of the big party arrived, I had the unique pleasure of having two servants arrive within 10 minutes of each other. The first told me that my father was expecting me in the back gardens. The second said Aunt Flora sent word it was time to make an appearance at the Ball. I donned my mask (which was a likeness of Athena's owl) and went to the ballroom immediately. Just for fun, I stole around to a window overlooking the gardens. Father had had the garden decorated beautifully, and there seemed to be the makings of a fabulous party. The only people I saw there, however, were servants. Smiling, I went downstairs.

The Ballroom was stunning, even Aunt Flora had outdone herself this time. Mythological creatures from dozens of shadows cavorted and played up and down the walls in lifelike renderings. It seemed as if there were 200 people in the hall, and I was amazed at Aunt Flora's thoroughness. There were ice and fire sculptures of fabulous creatures, and in the center of the room a beautiful ice fountain of a Unicorn, bathed in soft blue lighting. It was breathtaking.

I slipped into the room quietly, and was immediately greeted by Aunt Flora, who seemed to have an almost preternatural ability to know when a guest was arriving. I grinned behind my mask. She had a truly spectacular mask of a figure I wasn't sure I was familiar with.

"Thank you" I whispered to her, "it's so beautiful. Thank you so much."

The mask turned to regard me for a moment, then her voice floated out.

"Of course dear, I am so glad that you're pleased. Now go have fun."

I turned to go, and I thought I heard her say, though I couldn't be sure,

"Isn't it fun how you can't tell who's who."

I turned to look back at her, but she had melted into the crowd, on the arm of a large man with the mask of a Minotaur. Thoughtfully, I wandered away.

I was enjoying a dance with Brand, later identified only as a young lord wearing a mask of the faces of Cerberus. At first, I hadn’t even been sure it was Brand, except for that mask. He felt…different, though I couldn’t put my finger on it. It wasn’t that icy distant feel, but it didn’t seem like Brand either. He seemed himself, though, so I let it go.

During that dance, a commotion broke out near the door, disrupting most of the guests and stopping the music. In the sudden silence, Father's voice carried much farther then I'm sure he intended.

"...I don't care, just tell me where the hell she is!" Heads turned, and I had the distinct pleasure of seeing Father's face vaguely flush. Brand's hand tightened protectively on my arm as Father's gaze swept the room, pulling me farther from the confrontation. A few murmurs sounded around us.

Flora fairly flew across the room, berating him loudly before she’d even reached the door. It was an impressive display of temper worthy of family.

"How DARE you enter my costume ball without a costume!" she fairly screamed at him. "First you had the GALL to throw a party on the same day I was, then DEMAND that my staff assist you. I gave you the COURTASY of not inviting you, so you wouldn't feel obliged to abandon your own pitiful efforts, in deference to a party of my design, and you decide to try to CRASH my party, WITHOUT a proper costume!" A large man in a ‘Gerard’ mask drifted towards their confrontation, standing so he subtly backed up Flora's position. Father’s eyes raked the room, pinning me where I was backing toward the banquet table, unaware that I was the only thing moving in the room. He looked like he was about to do something, and then backed down suddenly, whirled, and quipped, "You haven't heard the last of this!" With that, he left.

Later I heard a rumor through the party mention that the one word the man in the ‘Gerard’ mask said was "chamberpots". No one understood it, though there was much speculation on what that code word meant.

Flora, being a hostess of near legend, had the party running smoothly again in no time. I danced with a number of people, including my gallant ‘rescuers’ in the Cerberus and ‘Gerard’ masks. I also enjoyed a dance with Eric, though I wasn’t sure it was he till the end of the dance. With a twinkle of blue eyes behind the mask, he bowed over my hand and murmured,

"Little Bleys will someday bite off more than he can chew, and I’ll be there to hand his teeth back to him."

I giggled faintly in surprise and delight, until it occurred to me that perhaps Eric felt towards Flora as I did towards Brand. Ever after have I viewed him as a kindred spirit.

At the appropriate time, I was presented to the entire gathering, blushing lightly, and Eric was my escort to the front of the room. Grandfather put in a momentary appearance to issue a kind, if gruff, blessing and the room issued a toast in my name.

The rest of the party was a smashing success, and the rumors and stories it generated grew in the telling through years of social gatherings. Some of the better ones I later heard included how Bleys tried to brutally and forcefully kidnap the guest of honor, and was driven out by a show of arms. I confess to pushing that one along a little myself. I heard of a terrible fire in the back Gardens that same day, resulting in the serious injury of a dozen servants. None of Amber Castle’s regular staff seemed to have been involved, however. The garden was apparently staffed that day by a contingent said to be dragged in from shadow by my father. There were stories of a blazing sorcerous duel across the roof of the castle. Flora was a heroine in some tales that told how she rescued a damsel in distress from the evil villain. In another version, it was a mysterious man in a bull’s mask. Most amusing were the tales of myself, faint and resting from my close escape with disaster at the unicorn statue, being fed flaming cherries by a young shadow lord in a Cerberus mask. I can’t say it’s not wholly fiction, but you know how rumors can get.

Father was furious, and wouldn’t speak to either Flora or myself for a week. It was years before his reputation began to recover, to my everlasting delight.

Sometime much later, I was rewarded in being invited by Eric to witness a duel between him and Bleys. I understood this was over Flora’s honor in some fashion, and that Father had done something to her, though no one would tell me what it was.

It gave me great pleasure to watch Eric beat the snot out of him…and it was even more satisfying in that he knew I’d watched the whole thing. He never tried to so blatantly make plans for me again, I’m glad to say.

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