Chapter Twenty-Six Behind the Mask

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Behind the Mask

I STARE AT Nuriel with my mouth open, but no sound comes out. What can I possibly say to explain?

"Cleodora. What are you doing? I won't ask again." His voice is low, brimming with the threat of thunder.

I shake my head. "I was just . . . I was just looking around and—"

"Who gave you permission to do that?" All traces of teasing or smugness are gone, replaced by a glare so sharp I fear it might cut through me. "Is that the reason you came up here? To see my Talent? To check the worth of your suitor ?" He spits the words.

"No! I came—" To steal your Talent. The truth dies on my lips. I cannot say these words. I need to lie. "I was just curious. I'm sorry. It meant nothing."

Nuriel crosses the room with three large strides and grabs my hand forcefully. "Give me that." He snatches the diamond out of my grasp.

"I'm so sorry," I repeat.

But he doesn't turn back to look at me, rolling the Talent between his fingers. "You really had me fooled." He laughs, the sound dark and painful. A chill rolls through my bones as I see the muscles tense in his jaw. He's furious. Hurt. And it's all my fault.

"With your innocent countryside charms and interest in art and fashion, I almost believed you cared about more than just status and Talents . But you're just like the rest of them. Was it all a part of your plan to secure a better title, a legacy Talent for your future child? Were you ever interested in me at all?"

A wave of dread pins me down when he finally looks at me. His eyes, warm and inviting only moments before, now bore into my soul like shards of ice. The elegance in his features has disappeared, replaced by a hard and unyielding expression that sends shivers down my spine. The passion that bloomed between us has withered away, replaced by a seething, all-devouring anger. I have lost him.

My heart heaves under the weight of his words. There is so much truth in them, it hurts. I did use him. I only got close to him as part of a plan. A plan to rob him. To betray him. But even amid the guilt and shame, I can't help the shred of self-defense rising within me. He's wrong about my motives; they weren't all shallow. Were they? I did it for Anaella. For her health. For her life. I had no choice.

But do I even believe myself?

The doubts and the accusations of my sister ring in my ears. She didn't believe me. She said I was doing this for selfish reasons. To have a Talent so I can be rich and adored.

Was I?

"Nuriel, I—"

"You don't get to use my name. " He stuffs the diamond into an inner pocket of his waistcoat, turning his back on me and any remnant of our relationship. Pain stabs my chest, and I put a hand over my dress, rubbing the silk as the throb of emotions travels up my throat and stings my eyes. "Get out," he grunts.

His words are like a bullet through my heart.

I shake my head, a hot tear escaping the corner of my eye. "But I do care about you."

I know the words are true as soon as they leave my mouth. It might have started as a calculated game, but it has long since developed into something more. Every moment we've spent together, every smirk and every bit of challenging banter, has woven itself into my heart. My emotions for Nuriel are real, as real as anything I have ever felt. So different from the pull Dahlia has on me, more rooted, less wild and turbulent, but no less powerful.

I didn't freeze for no reason. That's why I couldn't toss the diamond to Lirone.

Anaella was right. She told me I wouldn't be able to go through with this. Her words made me face the guilt and shame I had buried inside. I betrayed Nuriel, but did I ever really want to? I've hated myself ever since I stole his blood at the botanical gardens.

I put a hand on his shoulder, hesitantly, longing for his closeness. He tenses under my touch. I want to tell him the truth. To no longer carry the burden of lying and scheming. To beg for his forgiveness. But would he ever be able to forgive me?

"I kissed you because I've fallen for you," I say, settling for the part of the truth that's harmless.

He sweeps my hand away. "I said, get out."

"You have to believe me. I was only holding it, it meant noth—"

"Damn it!" He bangs his fist on the desk. "You're worse than the entire lot of them! Is every word that comes out of your mouth a lie? Get out! Now! "

I yelp as he swipes his desk clean with a furious motion, scrolls, books, and quills scattering over the soft carpet, only this time from a fit of rage, not passion. He doesn't even turn to look at me as I stumble back toward the door. I don't want to leave him. I want to stay and beg, but the fury in him is all-consuming, radiating off him in terrifying waves.

There is nothing I can do but run. My heart pounds in my chest, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I snatch my long skirts to keep from crashing down. I dash through the empty corridor, the sound of my own footsteps echoing like thunder in my ears. If this were a dream, I would be the princess escaping from her magical ball, but nothing could be farther from the truth. This is a nightmare, one I cannot escape, no matter how hard I try. The weight of my actions crashes down on me, and I can't help but wonder if I'm running away or toward something. All I know is that I have to keep moving, that I can't stop until I'm safe from the consequences of my own choices.

I nearly plummet down the staircase, tears blurring everything around me. What will Dahlia do when she finds out what I've done? I'll never be able to get Nuriel's Talent now. Not after I fully lost his trust. Nor do I want to.

Just ahead, the massive doors to the ballroom stand open, another dreamy valse inviting me into a world made only for beauty. A world I thought I could be a part of. But in reality, my sister was right. Back in the carriage, right after Dahlia brought her to see me sing, Anaella said I wasn't a lady. Not a real one. I could dress the part. Act the part. Even change my name. But under it all, I'm nothing but a thief.

I rush down another set of stairs toward the main entrance. A weary footman stands up as I approach, clearly startled to see anyone leaving this early.

"My lady, should I get your coat?" he asks. But I can't even speak—can't wait even one more second. "My lady!" he calls after me as I sprint out into the cool night air.

The bright lights from the manor spill out through the massive windows, illuminating my path as I plunge deep into the garden. With fall fast approaching, the chill of the night's air makes goosebumps rise on my skin. I don't have a plan; I have nowhere to escape. But the thought of going back inside makes my stomach churn.

Just ahead, a bench stands among the meticulously trimmed flower beds. My legs give way as I stumble over to it, collapsing onto its hard surface. The cold stone is rough against my skin, but I don't care. I need to stop, to rest, to catch my breath. My sobs finally take hold, the rumbling in my chest raging against the lively music and laughter that echo through the night. What am I supposed to do now?

My head snaps up at the sound of approaching steps. One of the servants must have followed me. But the boots sound too heavy to belong to a footman. One of the coachmen or guards, perhaps?

No . . . the looming figure is way too large, too muscular. "Lady Sibille is waiting for you," a raspy voice says as one of Dahlia's henchmen appears behind a large shrub. Father's coat and my purse are in his hands.

A sudden laugh escapes me, mixed with a sob. Of course she is.

He throws the coat to me. "Come."

I take my purse from his grasp before slipping my arms into the warm coat, trying to soak in comfort from it. Dahlia almost terminated our arrangement before she gave it to me—a prize for bringing in Nuriel's blood. A gift that led to our night together, to a new bond between us. But so much has happened since then, and this time I have nothing to give her. Nothing to soothe her anger or make her forgive how I broke her trust. I promised I was hers , but my heart betrayed her—yet another shattered pledge. A shudder passes through me. What will she do to me when she learns the truth?

The unfamiliar henchman doesn't wait before turning away, expecting me to follow. But to my surprise he's not heading for the carriages; instead, he's walking deeper into the gardens.

Could Dahlia be out here? Waiting right under everyone's nose for her final delivery? Each step I take is heavier, like a prisoner walking from his cell to receive his sentence. The paths seem endless, a maze of sculpted bushes, sleeping flowers, and rising branches swaying like dancing silhouettes in the moonlight. I'm not even sure how the henchman knows where to go.

I tense at a burst of giggles to my left. In a split second, the henchman's massive body presses against mine, pushing me against the bark of a tall tree trunk.

"What are you—?"

"Shhh!" He puts a hand over my mouth, leaning closer as if about to press his lips to mine. My heart beats against his chest, anxiety building inside me .

The giggles grow louder as a couple enters my vision, stealing kisses as they stroll. The woman halts when she notices us. "Looks like this corner is taken," she whispers to the man before he grabs her hand and pulls her away around another corner, laughing.

The henchman lets me go, and a pent-up breath escapes me. "Keep up," he says, turning away as if nothing happened at all.

Blood pumping in my ears, I push my wobbly feet faster to keep pace with his large strides. Soon the lights of the manor sparkle far behind us. We follow a narrow path covered by arches casting silvery shadows, and even though the henchman doesn't say a word, I know we are close. He walks slower now, his shoulders pushed back. I wipe away leftover tears as I find myself mimicking him.

The path turns, leading to a secluded area shielded by tall green hedges. Even with a delicate gold mask balanced on her face, it's impossible for me not to recognize Dahlia. She's wearing a marvel of cream damask silk and exotic amber brocading. The fabric embraces each of her soft curves lovingly before opening up to an asymmetrical frill at the hem. It's a gown that speaks of purity, almost fragility. But after having run my lips over every inch of her, I know better.

She doesn't turn to us as we approach, fully concentrating on the plump man beside her. "Adolphe, you never disappoint me," she purrs, staring at a large sunstone gem resting in her hand.

Adolphe Dugléré, the owner of Café Anglais. Apparently, he came through for her tonight. Unlike me.

"It's my pleasure," he says, nearly groveling, before offering an awkward bow and walking away backwards, as though she's royalty. He turns only after he almost bumps into me. "Sorry," he mutters as he stumbles back toward the manor.

"Cleodora." Dahlia's voice is soft, barely more than a whisper. "I wanted to believe Lirone's information was false. But looking at your face, I understand I harbored false hope. "

In the shadows behind her, Lirone's tiny frame shuffles, his eyes not meeting mine. He ran straight to Dahlia, not even taking a moment to consider or give me a chance to explain. I knew he was loyal to her, but I had thought, after everything we'd been through—music lessons, hiding the truth about the coachman—we'd formed a bond. Yet he was so quick to dismiss it, to act as if I was nothing but a task for him—someone he had to report on.

I take a shallow breath, but my chest feels hollow, a sense of loneliness settling inside me.

Dahlia wraps the sunstone in silk, giving it to the henchman who led me here. "Eight more to collect. Go."

Eight more . . . How many Talents exactly is she stealing tonight?

The henchman turns at once at her command, and she waits for him to disappear around the corner before bringing her attention back to me.

"How . . . disappointing."

Disappointing .

If only she'd shout at me, it would be less painful. Her dark eyes are misty, full of sadness. Have I caused that? An invisible hand clutches my chest as if squeezing my heart. I have to fight the urge to rush to her side and brush the tears away. How could I have been so stupid? I should never have allowed anything to stop me from completing my mission. If only I'd tossed the diamond, Dahlia would be smiling now.

"I . . . I'm so sorry. I will fix it."

"Will you?" She bats her eyes at me, closing the distance between us. I shiver as she traces her fingers over my cheek. "I need that Talent."

"I will get it," I say, even though I have no idea how. "I was distracted. Nuriel is now carrying it, but maybe—"

" Nuriel? " A chill runs through me at the way she says his name, her voice suddenly sharp. The tears all but evaporate from her eyes, replaced by a sudden flame. "Did you develop feelings for the little puppet?" Disdain drips from her words like venom, and I shudder .

I shake my head, eager to deny it. But the truth of my betrayal is written on my face—a betrayal so profound, my failure almost seems inconsequential in comparison.

Dahlia presses her thumb to my trembling lip with a slight tilt of her chin. "My poor little nightingale. I'm sorry too." Her whisper is urgent, raw. I search for her gaze just as footsteps approach behind me. "Finally." She breaks away, her expression a perfectly emotionless mask once more. "Our guest is here."

A small group walks toward us, at least three men, carrying something I can't see in the dark. But at the head of the group is a petite woman in a forest-green gown I know too well.

"Pauline." My voice trembles as I look at Dahlia. "She had nothing to do with this. Please let her go—she's just my maid."

Dahlia laughs.

"Sorry it took so long, Lady Sibille," Pauline says. "She was feisty."

"What . . . You two know each other?" I look between them, trying to understand.

Pauline ignores me as she bows her head to Dahlia.

"Oh my, is that why you needed three of my men?" Dahlia muses. "So glad I can always count on you, my dear."

My jaw drops as Dahlia caresses Pauline's fiery hair, the realization dawning on me. Lirone and my personal guards weren't the only ones keeping tabs on me. Pauline, my own maid, a girl I considered a friend, was just another thread in the tapestry Dahlia wove around me.

"You lied to me," I say.

Dahlia raises her perfect brow. "I never lie."

"You . . . you didn't tell me—"

"Ah, but that is not a lie." She shakes her finger at me, as though I'm a naughty child who needs to be educated. "I never told you anything about your maid."

" My lady, thank you for the dress." Pauline curtsies to me, but the usual timidness and friendly demeanor are gone. I feel sick to my stomach. She's no longer the sixteen-year-old girl with freckles who brushed my hair, picked my dresses, and comforted me. That girl never existed.

It was all an act.

"But why?" I ask.

"Think of me as a contingency plan." Pauline's lips turn upward in a smirk. The expression looks so alien on her delicate face. "One that was clearly necessary. Bring her over here, boys!"

The henchmen move out of the shadows, and I recognize Henry among them. Seems like his dalliance with Josephine didn't take him too long. Two of the men are carrying something in their arms. Not something. Someone .

My heart races as they place the limp body on the ground at Pauline's feet.

Please no. Please. Please. Don't let it be—

Anaella .

"No." The word escapes me, ice spreading through my veins as I fall to the ground at my sister's side, not caring for Pauline's looming shadow. Please be alive . She has to be. I run my hands over my sister's still body; her skin is cold to my touch. But then I notice the soft rise and fall of her chest and a sob bursts from my lips. Thank the heavens. Relief floods through me, but it's quickly replaced by a sickening wave of guilt. How did we get here? All of this was supposed to keep her safe, to heal her. Instead, I've been a greater threat to her life than the winter fever ever was.

Her head rests in a strange angle on the grass, her beautiful gown now partly torn, a cut screaming red on her cheek. I trace the line with a trembling finger. It will leave a scar, forever marking the darkness I brought on her. I want her to wake up and giggle, to say that this is all a joke. But her eyes remain closed, twitching sparingly, as if she's dreaming. Perhaps it's best that she remains unconscious for now.

Reality is not a place I want her to witness.

This is what happens when you cross Dahlia.

The demon has emerged to replace the angel .

How could she have done this to me? After everything she told me of her own loss, I thought she understood my pain—shared in it. I believed that she cared for me, that our connection meant something to her. How could she just blink it all away, flicking off her emotions like extinguishing a matchstick?

"What have you done to her?" My voice is stronger than I thought it would be.

"She refused to come quietly," Pauline says.

When I look at her, she's still smiling, not showing a hint of remorse. Did she enjoy hurting my sister? Rage makes my vision blur as I lash out at her, wanting with all my heart to strangle her delicate, dainty neck. "How could you?!"

Rough hands grab me, pulling me back before I can lay a finger on Pauline.

"Let me go!" I shout, and a hand lands on my mouth.

"Quiet now." Dahlia leans down and brushes a dark lock from Anaella's face. "Such a waste of beauty." She sighs. "I truly didn't want it to come to this, Cleodora."

I try to fight against the man's grip on me, but it's useless. He's too big. Too strong. His hold on me is like heavy metal claws pinning me down.

Desperation clings to my bones, making me tremble. My mouth is suddenly dry. I'm helpless. A pincushion for Dahlia and Pauline to stab over and over again.

"Lirone, dear," Dahlia calls.

I've forgotten he's still here, sticking to the shadows and watching the horror unfold. His eyes are wide as he steps forward, his gaze glued to my unconscious sister. The fear on his face is heart-wrenching—like watching another piece of his innocence getting stolen.

"Tell me again why Cleodora failed to deliver my Talent."

He hesitates, his gaze jumping to me for a mere second. Does he feel bad for what happened? Is he looking to me for support? "She and the vicomte were . . . kissing . After he left, she found the diamond . . . "

"Yes?" Dahlia says.

"I . . . I was waiting at the window. She just needed to toss it over, but—" He freezes as his eyes meet mine. I beg him silently not to say the truth, to come up with some excuse that will still allow me to protest my innocence. I can see the debate behind his unblinking stare, the understanding that his next words will determine my fate. It shouldn't be this way. He's just a kid. A kid who at that moment turns to look at Dahlia with the loving eyes of a son.

And right then, I know it's hopeless.

"But she didn't." Lirone stares at Dahlia. "The vicomte returned, and I ran to you, Lady Sibille."

I want to be angry, to lash out and fight. But it's not Lirone's fault. He's captivated by Dahlia, and I can't blame him for it. If our roles were reversed, I cannot be sure I wouldn't have done the same. My body resigns as I stop fighting against the henchman's hold and close my eyes.

No way out.

This is the end.

"Thank you, my love." Dahlia takes him in her arms, pulling him into an unexpectedly intimate embrace, like a mother holding her child. It's full of the softness I know so well, but now I can see something else underneath it. Something twisted, cruel—her struggles, her pain, the parts of her life that echo my own, have poisoned her heart. "Well, I suppose that settles it." She sighs. "I have no other choice."

She waves, and Henry steps forward, a gun in his hand. A glinting jade gem adorns its grip, but its presence only makes it more menacing. Is that his Talent? One meant for violence?

A shiver chills my entire body.

No. No. No.

This can't be happening.

She wouldn't.

And yet . . .

"Take care of this," Dahlia says .

He aims the gun at my sister's head.

My heart stops. This is all wrong. This is all my fault. I was meant to protect her.

I have to do something. I have to stop this.

Without thinking, I use all my strength to bite the palm of the guard muffling me. He curses as he drops his hand, his hold on me faltering.

"You little viper!" the man calls.

I dash forward, a cry escaping my lips. "Stop!" I position myself in front of Anaella, trying to block the gun, but the man has already recovered. He grabs me, his hands wrapping tightly around my waist as he pulls back. "Please. I'll do anything!" I struggle against him. But he's just too strong. I can't possibly escape.

Then Dahlia raises her hand, and the world freezes for a second.

He lets me go.

Henry lowers the gun.

"Anything?" Dahlia says.

"Anything." I'm shaking, tears streaming down my face. "Please. I beg you."

She starts pacing silently, and in the silver glow of the moon she truly does look like some divine being—only now I'm certain it's a demon. Her porcelain skin glowing, her raven hair shimmering. She is the perfect monster, one who doesn't even need to hunt for her prey.

Her beauty lures it for her.

"Don't think I enjoy this, Cleodora." She stops to look at me, the endless black pools of her eyes drawing me in from underneath her mask. "I wanted us to be together. For you to be mine . . . But I'm no longer sure that's possible."

Her words pull at my heart, the unexplained urge to please her fighting to pierce through my fear.

"Please." I stagger toward her, taking her hand in mine. She doesn't pull away. Even though she's moments from ending my life, I can't help the spark igniting at the touch of her smooth skin. If she ever cared for me at all, she won't do this. "Don't hurt my sister. Please, just give me one more chance."

I squeeze her hand, wishing for the softness she once shared with me to return.

Dahlia studies me for a moment that feels like eternity. "As you wish," she finally says.

I gasp in relief. "Thank you!"

"Since the vicomte is keeping his gem on his person, your opportunity tonight is lost. But you will bring me his Talent in one week."

"What?"

My heart drops again. She cannot mean that. That's too soon. Especially come morning, when the police realize what happened here tonight. This party was the one perfect event to steal a multitude of Elite Talents—a calculated carefully crafted plan. Dahlia's operation should be lying low after this. Why give me another chance at all if she's sending me on a doomed mission?

"The opera premiere will be your last chance. Your sister will stay with me as . . . motivation." Dahlia strides away from me and waves to Henry. He lifts Anaella off the ground as if she's no more than a sack of flour. I want to scream at him to put her down, but the risk of having Dahlia change her mind is too great. "Don't disappoint me again."

I nod, but my entire body is shaking.

"Lady Sibille?" Pauline says. "What about the boy? He should have stopped her from her foolishness long before it came to this. He should be punished as well."

But Dahlia seems uninterested, already walking away. "As you see fit, dear."

A wicked grin spreads across Pauline's face as she looks at Lirone, revealing the true evil behind her mask. Too late, I see her grab the gun from Henry's hand. The world slows as she cocks it and aims.

I scream, the gunshot piercing my ears.