2. Amaya

Iwander aimlessly through the ornate halls of my family"s grand estate, allowing my fingertips to trail lightly along the intricate wall hangings as I go. Golden threads shimmer within the silk weavings, depicting scenes of past victories and family lineage stretching back through the ages. Polished marble flecked with veins of emerald and onyx forms the flooring, my slippers whispering over the cool stone with every step.

"Watch out!" A zagfer dodges me around a corner.

"I need more platters!" Another darts in the opposite direction.

Two more zagfer pop out of the servant stairs. "She said I wouldn't have to cater!"

All around me, servants clad in fine livery bustle to and fro making last-minute preparations for Father"s latest lavish masquerade ball. The mouthwatering scents of meats like tender dripir and thistle meat roasting over crackling fires in the kitchens waft through every corridor, mingling deliciously with the sweet aromas of pastries fresh from the ovens.

Fruit tarts encrusted with sugared berries, flaky cream puffs swollen with custard, gossamer spun sugar sculptures so fine they dissolve on the tongue - the teasing scents stir a hollow gnawing within my empty stomach.

As always, I have been forbidden from attending tonight"s festivities, just as I have been barred from all others for as long as I can recall. Father claims the rowdy crowds and frivolous behavior are no place for someone such as myself.

But according to him, nothing is safe for me. I know why even if he won't say it.

Because I'm a human. And no one can know.

Turning down a side passage, I overhear two serving girls bustling past with arms full of linens, giggling conspiratorially. "Have you seen Lord Arion? He"s even more gorgeous than the tales claim!" the first sighs dreamily.

"He is, and as charming as they say, too, no doubt," the other answers.

"And coming tonight!"

The other clicks her tongue. "I"ve heard he'll charm any woman into his bed and kick him out when he's done. He doesn't care if he ruins you."

My chest constricts at their carefree gossip, a bitter taste coating my tongue. What must it be like, to experience passion and flirtation without bars between oneself and the outside world? To have a friend? To not be pushed aside and hidden away.

Wending my solitary path further, I pass a cluster of scullery boys hard at work polishing silver to a high shine. "Wish I could catch a glimpse of the dancing - bet those court ladies move like sin!" one grins lasciviously.

"Careful what you wish for, fool - you"ll end up shackled in the dungeon for compromising a noble daughter!" his friend cackles.

My gut twists itself into knots at their lascivious chatter, only serving to drive home how isolated and different I am, kept from "normal" folk. The servants here know of me, but they still don't interact. They act as if I don't exist.

I don't know if Father will ever let me go to a party or leave the manor, but each chance remark and carefree word from those allowed to partake in life"s pleasures outside these walls only serves to deepen my lonely curiosity and longing. What terrible fate awaits should I dare challenge his edict and steal a taste of freedom for myself, if only for one night?

I turn the corner and am unsurprised to find Father walking with two of his advisors, as always deep, in political matters. At my approach, they part respectfully and take their leave while Father"s stern gaze fixes on me.

"Amaya, you should not roam unattended when the festivities begin soon. There is too much to be done," he says, brooking no argument as usual. But it's not that I am in the way. He just doesn't want me to be seen.

Summoning my courage, I meet his stern eyes. "Since it is a masquerade, do you think I could attend tonight, Father? No one would know it's me beneath the mask," I suggest hopefully.

Father shakes his head. "You know my stance - elves are nothing but danger and temptation, especially for someone like you. With a party, it is safer for you to stay in your room." He gives me a stern look. "You know what a dark elf would do with a human if you were discovered."

Still, I do not give up so easily. "Then glamour me so that they may not be able to tell that I am not an elf. I"ve been confined so long, never experiencing more than glimpses from my window. Let me go just tonight, I beg of you!" My tone edges toward pleading, to no avail.

Father casts his steely gaze toward the horizon as if seeking answers in the clouds. When he turns back to me, he looks old and wary. "The outside holds too many evils lying in wait to prey on the unsuspecting. I only want to protect you, Amaya."

His tone carries finality, yet still I persist. "Surely a masquerade behind disguise offers safety. I'll stay in your sight the whole time, I swear. Do you not trust me?"

Father sighs wearily. "It is not you I doubt but the intentions of others. You have to understand what I have seen out there, what I will not let you endure."

But I don't. Because he won't tell me.

"Keeping me locked up will not protect me forever. I'm practically a prisoner in my own home!" I plead.

His eyes flash at my words. "You are no prisoner! I provide you with every comfort. Is my protection and guidance truly so terrible?"

For a moment, I feel a flash of guilt. My father took me in when my mother, one of his servants, passed away, leaving me as a babe on his doorstep. He's only shown me love and kindness.

"Of course not," I say quickly. "I meant only that the constant isolation wears on me. Could I not attend, just this once, with a disguise?"

Father shakes his head firmly. "I'm growing tired of repeating myself, Amaya, you are not to go near the other dark elves. Only the ones in this house are safe for you. Keep away from the party."

Seeing the resolute set of his jaw, I know further arguments will be futile. With a nod, I take my leave, heart leaden with disappointment.

Yet deep within me also burns a rebellious spark, fanned by the longing for freedom beyond these suffocating walls. I resolve to find a way, disguise or no, to go to the party. I won't even be leaving the house, and if I do it well enough, Father will never know.

* * *

That evening,as lively music drifts through open windows and begins to stir my adventurous spirit, my secret plan takes full action. I select my finest gown from my wardrobe, a shimmering silk that glimmers with movement. I've always loved it, despite not having anywhere to wear it.

It will help me look more like a dark elf.

The bodice is cut for a fitted silhouette, embroidered at the neck and cuffs with gleaming silver thread forming swirling galactic patterns to match my masked disguise.

Standing before the looking glass, I carefully apply kohl using a tiny soft brush, darkly outlining my eyes to make their green irises pop against my pale skin like forest pools glimpsed beneath canopy shadows.

A dusting of rosy rouge brings warmth and fullness to lips accustomed to pursed in lonely disuse. With deft, practiced fingers, I weave strands of moonlit ribbon through my waist-length brown tresses, artfully pinning and twisting them into an elaborate, cascading style that frames my face in loose waves. Finally, I fix my mask on my face and take a look at myself.

My reflection shows a mysterious beauty peering back at me through a silvery veil, identity shrouded yet unafraid. This enchanting veneer will be my shield against recognition as I slip beyond confinement"s bars to sample pleasures forbidden until now.

Yet one piece remains missing - a disguise to truly shroud my identity. I know that the zagfer have lesser magic, but one of them should be able to glamour me well enough that my skin looks at least a little gray, even if it's faint. The mask should conceal the rest.

Seeking aid, I find Sartha, a maid with a gift for minor charms. She's newer, and I think I can win her over.

"Sartha, I want to attend the ball tonight, but no one can know I am human. Please, can you use your magic to glamour my skin and features?" I beg.

She hesitates. "My magic is subtle. I don't think I can hide you well."

I point to my face. "My mask will do most of it. I just need my skin to look darker."

"I don't know." She swallows. "I might be able to fool some of the guests, but your father would surely see through any illusion."

"I just want to alter it enough that the other guests don't notice me. I won't tell him who it was. In fact, I'll pay you back. I"ll do your chores for a moon!" I plead. Her eyes light up at the prospect.

With furtive glances, Sartha casts her spell. The magic feels cool across my skin, and I turn to one of the darkened windows where I can see myself. My ears and jaw look sharper, not as fierce as most elves, but it's enough. And glancing down at my arms, I see they are a light pewter.

Sartha smiles at me. "It"s not too drastic, but should fool even your father at a glance. Now go, enjoy the party!"

I thank her profusely before hurrying down the hall. Shadows stretch long fingers across gleaming marble as the moon rises, the light splashing through the large windows of the manor. I can only hope that tonight is worth it.

But deep down, I know it will be.