"No," said Rosalie.

"Yes!" Emrys exclaimed at the same time.

I sighed. We'd convened in the castle's garden for today's meeting, talking as we worked to plant the seeds we'd bought. Marigolds, junipers, myrtles, snowdrops, I'd managed to get a good starting collection from the markets before we had to head back for the evening. Unfortunately, the Rosary Walk was not the place where I'd be able to get black snowdrops, the only ingredient I was missing for one of Linus's potions. Quicksilver droplets and acorns had been easy enough to get a hold of, but apparently black snowdrops only grew in the tundras, which the Vale didn't have.

«Look,» I said as I buried one more juniper sprout. «It's not something we have to enjoy, we just have to be there for it.»

"I'm not saying it's an unwise political manoeuvre," said Rosalie. "If we pull it off, the recognition we get will be good. But only two of us are familiar with aristocratic events, which leaves seven open to easy faux pas."

«We won't need to do that much,» said Arthur. «Just show up and introduce ourselves. Maybe dance.»

"There is a startling amount of things that can go wrong when simply using the incorrect choice of words will see your approval in the eyes of the court vanish," said Rosalie.

"Ah, but this isn't a royal ball," said Emrys. "I'm sure there will be nobility in attendance, but the burgomaster here has no court, as I've been told."

"Call it whatever name you want, there will still be a crowd of influential people judging your every step," argued Rosalie. "Court or no court. And after what you three said of the vicar, I suspect that he may have something of the sort for his…role in the Church."

Emrys's lip pulled back in disgust, but he shook his head. "As loathe as I am to meet that man again, would it not be more of a faux pas not to attend such a prestigious event?"

That gave Rosalie pause, and she closed her eyes like she was trying to think of another excuse.

"I'd like to go," Grace quietly piped up. "I've always been curious about what it would be like to go to a ball."

Rosalie glanced at her, then at me, then up at the rising moons. "Fine," she said. "But we're going to need proper outfits. As much as our dress uniforms are well-made, they are not suitable for a formal ball. It will probably take most of the rest of our money to get ones tailored, especially on such short notice, and doubly so for the dragons among us."

"Oh, I will be paying for this event," said Emrys. "The treasury of Laimnâch will supply us with more than enough funds for nine tailored sets of formal clothing."

Arthur snorted. «I feel like the treasury of a kingdom could probably be spent on more important things than dresses and suits.»

"You would not believe how much is spent on such things every year," the prince said with a thoroughly exasperated roll of his eyes. "This is a necessity, anyway. And we can call it an investment, in the case that we need such formal outfits again."

"We won't just need outfits," said Rosalie. "We'll need masks too."

My ears perked up. «I thought that was a myth?»

"No," said Rosalie, shaking her head. "It's tradition. Supposedly, once there was an attempted assassination of a king of the Vale at a formal celebration, and all the guests put on masks to trick the assassin and keep them from killing the king. I doubt that ever truly happened, but masks have been the norm at these sorts of events since that story was first told." She shrugged. "You won't have to hide your name. Just your face."

"Masks…what an interesting idea!" Emrys put on a wide smile. "Oh, I can already see so many possibilities coming to mind!"

"I'm sure there will be a mask maker somewhere in the upper wards," said Rosalie. "We can find one tomorrow, assuming they have any left with people preparing for the equinox."

Grace gave her a nudge with her elbow. "I'm sure there will be," she assured her. "Come on! It's a party, I'm sure it'll be fun."

Rosalie sighed, clearly disagreeing in her head, but unwilling to say it out loud.

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Our invitations arrived early the next morning. For all the pomp that Rosalie had implied we were heading into, I was halfway expecting some sort of grand, long-winded scroll, but all that we received were a collection of small cards, each addressed to us by name with a simple request to attend the Equinox Ball and the information about specifically where and when it would be held. Rosalie made absolutely sure we put them in the vault to be saved, since we'd need to show them to the guards at the gates to be let in.

Just like Rosalie predicted, it did not take us long to find a seller of masks in the Rosary Walk, and also like she predicted, a lot of them seemed to be low on stock. We ended up having to split up to find enough for everyone, with each group given simple instructions from Rosalie: "Only stand out if you can stomach it."

Grace and I walked into the first shop we found, a rather quaint little store given the discerning nature of who I imagined most of their clientèle must be. The older gentleman with a bushy moustache that sat behind the store's counter watched us like a hawk the entire time we were in there. I guessed it was due to our comparably plain dress, although I had to wonder how many times he got dragons as customers.

Not many, I could assume based on the array of masks on display. Most of them were exactly the same, very simple masks made of brass, bronze, or maybe even black copper, that depicted a slightly happy-looking human face, going from the forehead to the upper lip and leaving the bottom half of the face uncovered. Those were probably what Rosalie was expecting us to buy so as not to stand out, but I didn't have much of a choice. They wouldn't fit on my face.

The other masks weren't any better. All of them were clearly designed with a human face in mind. A lot of them were simply variations on the expression of the common somewhat-happy mask, with some being sad and others angry, a few even looked fearful. Fancy decorations didn't seem to be the point of the masks. The only ones that looked like they could even halfway accommodate a muzzle were the ones sitting on the highest shelves that were modelled after beasts. I didn't much like the implications of that, but they were the only choices it seemed like I had.

I discarded several before I found one that I liked well enough to try on. By its shine and its scent, it was silver rather than the ordinary metals that made up the other masks. It was clearly modelled after a raven or crow, with a long curved beak protruding from the front between the eye holes, tastefully speckled with filigree of even shinier metal. It reminded me of drawings of old apothecaries, the kind that wore those thick robes and beaked masks.

But it still didn't fit around my stupid, big nose. None of the masks here did.

Unless….

«I think this one,» I said to Grace, before turning around and beholding the…very loud mask she was looking at. Like the ones that were modelled after wolves, ravens, and mountain cats that I had been looking at, hers was designed after some sort of feathered wyvern, with a broad feathery crest extending from the top in pinks, oranges, and reds.

«…Don't,» I said privately.

«What?» she protested.

«Just don't. You'll draw so much attention.»

She gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes. «Fine…» she grumbled before picking out a much subtler bronze one in the shape of an old knight's visor. «Doth this meet your standards, O mighty and discerning dragon?»

I let out an amused snort. «I say of this one: it suits you well, noble knight.»

«Good!» She smiled before glancing at the mask in my hand. «That…are you sure that will fit a dragon?»

«I'm not going as a dragon,» I said.

Grace's eyes narrowed. «You've been worried about how you look as a human. I know you have, I can feel it. This is a very public, very formal event, why would you….» She trailed off as I felt realisation come over her mind.

I nodded. «If there's any time I will be able to pass as human again before we get our hands on the cure, this is it, and I'm taking my chances.»

«Just be careful,» said Grace. «I don't want people accusing you of being a fiend at a place like this.»

I let my confidence speak through our bond for me. Grace seemed happy, but I could tell there was a lot of worry simmering beneath the surface. That worry almost made me give up on my plan on the spot. I was the one who was supposed to keep her safe, not the other way around. But as darkness bubbled up through my mind, I shook my head. I could afford to do something to please myself, just this once.

I didn't pay attention to how that thought made all the Fiend's dark thoughts seem to vanish for the entire rest of the day.

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For the most part, the others had gone the plain mask route. Yura, Ingo, Arthur, and Rosalie all had variations on that simple, half-covering mask that had made up the bulk of our seller's supply. Arthur intended on going as a human, while Griffin was attending as a dragon, and had managed to find simple masks that fit them and Brand, although for some reason masks for dragons had been kept out of sight in cramped storage cabinets in the back, rather than out in the open with the rest of the masks. All the sellers had to say about it was that no dragons had come by for masks in over a year, so they didn't bother putting any of their stock out on the shelves.

Emrys was the only other person who got something nonstandard, and while it wasn't as expansive as the one Grace had threatened me with, it still made the rest of us suck in a nervous breath when we saw it. It was shaped like an artistic depiction of a demon, unlike the real demons that were the fallen dragons Brand had described. Twisted fangs fell over the mouth, and stubby horns protruded from the mask's golden forehead with a gemstone embedded between them like a small crown or tiara.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

As much as the rest of us thought it was in bad taste considering the situation with the "fiends", he simply would not agree that it was at all close enough to the sorts of beasts we had fought. And he was right, the mask didn't look anything like a fiend, but the association still made me wary. But he was far more of an expert on these sorts of high society functions than I was, so I was hopeful that he'd be able to make it work with nothing but his own charisma.

And in any case, he had his work cut out for him for the rest of the day, copying out formal responses to our invitations, as well as contacting tailors in the city and the treasurers all the way back in Laimnâch to arrange our outfits. I saw him briefly as he finished inscribing a circle of blood and began conjuring some kind of bird-spirit out of the air to carry the messages, which must have been how he expected prompt responses from people hundreds of miles away.

After dinner that night, I found myself amongst the castle gardens. Obviously, the plants were nowhere near grown yet after only a day, but the prospect of what they would look like when grown conjured up such heady scenes in my mind that it was pleasant to simply lie in the upturned earth and ponder them. It was a windy night, but the castle walls blocked just enough of it that the leaves on the juniper shrubs and the saplings only fluttered pleasingly, rather than being whipped around and harmed.

I held the raven mask I'd bought, turning it curiously in my hands as it reflected the light of the moon. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure no one was watching, and for the first time in a week, transformed into a "human" again. I was terrified that I would be completely different, like I might have grown wings or a tail in the intervening week like how I'd changed after the last time the Fiend took control, but all that had happened this time was the scales had spread a little farther, covering my entire back and most of my head and arms, and I'd gotten a little taller.

I slipped the mask onto my face. Just as I predicted, it fit fine. The beak extended forward, wider than it had seemed in my hands as a dragon, just enough to cover my elongated face before it dipped down, somewhat obscuring the bottom of my jaw. Between it and the clothes that Emrys was getting for me, I was confident that it would be enough not to cause a scene. That would be enough. All I was hoping for was that I'd be seen the way I wanted to be.

There was a heavy thud behind me, and I jumped to my feet, instinct driving me to expect a fight, but it was only Rosalie emerging from the gates of the damaged keep. The crumbling edifice of stone was more than the simple square tower it appeared to be from the front, since the castle's chapel was held in a wing on the south side, but it wasn't such a major feature of the castle, especially as damaged as it was, that I was expecting people to be up after sunset exploring it.

Rosalie startled when she noticed me on my feet. "Oh, goodness. I'm sorry, I didn't expect you to be here." She paused as she approached, her eyes having to glance upward to where I now loomed over a foot taller than her. "I see the mask suits you well."

I settled down, taking off the mask and putting it on a clear patch of grass. "Well enough," I murmured. My voice had changed too, a little lower and more gravelly. I huffed in annoyance. "Can't fix everything, but it covers it up well enough." I absently put a hand over my mouth as I tried not to fixate on it too much. "How's Arthur? He's spent just as long as me out of human form."

Rosalie stared down at the dirt for a moment before she sat down in the grass a little bit outside the garden, prompting me to sit opposite her. "He's doing fine, given the circumstances," she said. "I'm not sure how much he actually cares about how he looks. He's more concerned with the…the 'Fiend' of it all. He's convinced himself that it's only a matter of time before he loses control for good, and I'm sure that he's right if he can't consider anything else. I've seen the way he looks at our money."

I wished I knew something to say about that, but I didn't. I wasn't overly confident that I was able to handle the Fiend for much longer, and admitting that would only make things worse.

"I'm sorry," was all I could settle on.

"I'm going to make him speak to Griffin this week. Of all the people here, they seem to have the strongest idea of what to do with those instincts."

I watched her deflate as she leaned and then fell backwards on the grass, staring up at the starry sky and the bright white moon. I let myself fall backwards too, my eyes searching for constellations as I tried to think of how to broach the question I knew I needed to ask while I had her attention.

"How are you doing?" I started.

Rosalie let out a single dry laugh. "Considering the circumstances, I could be doing worse. I'm dreading the coming equinox. I don't relish the idea of returning to the politicking of nobility, since that is one of the many reasons I left my home in the first place. I suppose I'm glad that there likely won't be anyone I recognise there. With any luck, at least."

"Is it really that bad?" I asked. "I remember when I was young, all the kids I knew always dreamed about getting into some fancy-named house. Hell, a lot of the adults I used to know did that, too."

"I won't lie," said Rosalie, "I certainly would not compare my hardships to those faced by people in poverty. Knowing that we had the wealth and influence to pursue whatever struck our fancy was comforting. But there are a lot of things that I do not wish to return to. I'm lucky, really, to have been the fourth child in my family, or I would have been favoured for an arranged marriage and stuck at home, rather than permitted to wander as I have. Emrys and I are alike in that way, I suppose, although I get the sense that he took a more romantic view of his life at home than I did.

"But the politics is what I truly couldn't stand," she continued. "There are a number of nobles who have estates on the moor, and we would always be gathering with them for meetings and parties. Parties like this are…they're more like a contest than a true celebration. It's all about who can win the social game without making some kind of blunder. And when you are playing that game, you are on a team with the rest of your house, who need you not to be the one to make that critical misstep. It is…quite the heavy pressure to be under. And that's discounting the real threat of intrigue."

"What, as in assassins?" I asked.

"Sometimes. More often it would be attempts to learn your secrets and hold them over you for blackmail or ransom. Having a member of another house dead is advantageous, but having them in your pocket is even more so. Fortunately, my life was rather dull up until the day that I left, so I have no secrets for my enemies to find." She glanced warily at me. "We will be at a celebration of a far higher calibre than any of my house's in less than one week. Do you have any secrets?"

I scoffed. "Not that I'd tell you."

"So not only do they exist, but they are sensitive," said Rosalie, pointing a wary glance at me.

"Not that sensitive!" I protested. "I…just don't want Grace to know."

"That's very sensitive, then," countered Rosalie, "if you won't even tell your very sister and bonded partner. Does it have anything to do with the fact that you know how to pick locks?"

"No," I growled. "I was a thief as a child, but Grace already knows that. But that was over seven years ago."

"Seven years, and your skills haven't atrophied a bit," mused Rosalie.

I clenched my claws into the dirt. I was doing my best to push the anger aside, but her needling was really testing me.

"Why are you prying so much?" I asked. "We're supposed to be a team."

"Indeed, and having a secret that you won't tell your team means it's valuable enough to be used as leverage," said Rosalie. "I'm trying to teach you something. You've already given it away."

"How?" I asked. I hadn't said anything specific, the best she could guess is that I still picked locks from time to time before I came to the academy.

"It stems from the single fact I know: you can pick locks. Everything else you gave to me. You stopped thievery over seven years ago, yet your skills are as sharp as if you had practised them continually since then. You're from Vandermaine, and don't want your sister, who used to be a mercenary, to know some detail about the intervening years. You're also skilled with a gun and axe, combat skills that I wouldn't expect a regular burglar or cutpurse to be adept in. So, with that in mind, I suppose you must have been a member of that gang of bandits that was active on the south road to Vandermaine in the last couple years?"

I stared upwards, doing my best not to let my emotions show on my face, but I knew it was too late. One glance, and she had her confirmation.

"Please don't tell Grace," I whispered.

"I wasn't completely sure, but you've confirmed it for me now," said Rosalie. "I won't tell your sister. I'll let you do that yourself. But this is what I mean when I talk about how joyless these celebrations are. That is the sort of lens you will be under all night, especially as a strange-looking outsider. You will be vulnerable, and constantly under watch from every pair of eyes around you. That's all. I only want to counsel caution."

"Right…" I mumbled, deeply unsettled.

There was silence between us for a long time. The wind picked up, howling over the surrounding hills and screeching as it dipped over the castle walls, turning into a gentle breeze that I savoured as it tousled my hair. After a while, Rosalie stood.

"Uh, before you go," I said, suddenly realising that it was now or never on this question. "Um…can I ask about something?"

Rosalie finished standing and took a moment to stretch. "Proceed."

"I've…noticed that you let Grace call you 'Rosa'."

She froze.

"I've noticed that, and I was just sort of wondering…." I suddenly felt extremely embarrassed. I wasn't sure anymore if this was even a topic that I should be asking about, but at this point I had to finish. "Are you two, um, in a relationship? With each other?" I fumbled the words as they came out of my mouth.

Rosalie spent a long time just standing there. "…Why do you ask?" she eventually settled on.

"Because she's my sister, and I, just…I worry about her and want to make sure that she's happy," I said. "You don't have to answer, I'm sorry."

"No, I understand your concern," said Rosalie. "We haven't…fully spoken about it yet, but I do believe that our feelings are mutual. I was thinking of taking some our free time this week to go somewhere with her and talk about it then."

"I see," I said. "That sounds like a good idea."

"Mhm," Rosalie hummed. "Do keep that part secret, if you would. I was hoping that I could make it a surprise."

"I will," I said.

Rosalie nodded. She lingered for a few more moments, awkwardly taking a single step away at a time until she was halfway across the courtyard, at which point she finally turned and hastily walked back to the main hall. Once she was gone, I shifted back into my dragon form for comfort's sake before deciding to sleep right there, among the seedling plants. My dreams that night were filled with hedge mazes, covered in beautiful flowers despite offering me no escape from their confines.

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Rosalie followed through on her word near the end of that week. One morning, she left alone with Grace, walking towards Yorving. They didn't come back until that evening, nervously holding hands as they came back through the castle gate.

I couldn't give names to the feelings I had about it. Some permutation of fear was prevalent amongst them, but for now, it wasn't the focus, and I was more interested in being happy for the both of them. I gave them the space I felt like they wanted, and didn't impose on their relationship any further.

Besides, I had other things to turn my mind to that week. First among them was finally getting those lessons in Valish Draconic that Brand and Yura had promised to give the rest of us. Given how useful it would be for the humans and dragons to be able to communicate directly with each other, everyone in the flight tried to come and learn as often as they could amongst their other activities, but Griffin and I were the only ones who attended every lesson.

After a while, I was shocked at my own vocal range. After spending all my time making meaningless growls and roars in dragon form and little else, it was odd to make sounds I actually processed as speech. While a single week was certainly not enough to learn a full language, we were able to develop a reasonable understanding of a pretty wide swath of common words and phrases, especially with Brand available to guide us through actual conversations we held entirely in Draconic. I was quietly hoping that there would be another dragon at the ball, so that we would have a chance to try what we'd learned for real, though logically I knew conversing in a language I barely knew would still be risky for such a high-profile event.

I even had some time alone that week where I practised mimicking human speech in my dragon form. It wasn't easy, and it was physically impossible for me to get all the sounds right. All the vowels sort of blurred together, and my lips weren't mobile enough to make certain consonants, but it was enough that Grace could decode what I was trying to say. I didn't know when that skill would ever come in handy, but it made me feel better to know regardless.

With all that, the week felt like it sped by, and soon, the sun began to dip down on the last day of summer. I stood on the castle ramparts as everyone else got ready, watching as glowing fires began to appear all throughout the distant city, signalling the beginning of autumn and the night of the equinox.

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