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The bonfire crackled, sending sparks into the air as Sehren and the masked man danced together. The music swelled around them, a lively tune that made the flames flicker with joy. The rhythm was infectious, pulling Sehren in, her body moving to the beat despite herself. His hand rested on the small of her back, guiding her through the dance with a gentle firmness that ignited a flutter of excitement deep in her stomach.
He leaned in, his breath warm in her ear, "Is it the magic of the festival, or are you simply a natural dancer?"
Where his hands touched her it burned like fire, but it wasn't unpleasant. Every brush of his fingers, every glance, seemed to crackle with energy, and yet the sensation wasn't purely physical—it stirred something emotional, something unexpected. Sehren drew back and turned her face away from him to hide the nerves. She had been in the presence of men before, so why was he affecting her like this?
Her heart pounded as he closed the space between them again, his touch light but insistent. She wondered if she alone felt this overwhelming tension. Surely he didn't share the same depth of feeling. Because how could he hold her in such a fastened glance otherwise.
He twirled her effortlessly, the world around them fading with each turn, until they were flush against one another in the heart of the dance. His scent—earth and wildflowers—mingled with the sweet aroma of the festival, wrapping around her senses.
"Tell me," he asked softly, "what did you love most about the festival?"
"I- I think the stories," she stammered, struggling to find her voice. She couldn't think. Her mind was a blur. How could she speak when the mere proximity of him made it hard to think?
"Which ones?"
"The black and white unicorns..." she blurted out, feeling ridiculous.
"Ah, the black and white unicorns! What would you wish for if you saw one?"
Her thoughts clouded, Sehren almost stumbled, but his arm tightened around her waist, steadying her. "I'd wish for... for... for a change..." she whispered. But even as she spoke, the weight of her reality crashed down on her. Father's sunken, lifeless face flashed across her eyes, and guilt struck her hard. For father to not die, she thought bitterly, the joyful spell of the night breaking.
Sensing her sudden shift, he spoke more softly. "Do you wish to go somewhere quieter, away from the crowd?"
She nodded, letting him guide her towards a split log bench near a smaller bonfire. There were people sitting there but they quickly dispersed as the couple approached. He sat down and motioned for her to do the same. She kept a modest space between them when she sat.
"You don't often come to these gatherings, do you?" His voice was quieter now, more thoughtful. "You gave me an earful about that horse, but now..." he trailed off. He looked away into the fire. A small pause became a comfortable silence as he watched the fire and Sehren took the chance to study him.
Blonde hair, intense blue eyes that seemed to pierce through the firelight, an angular jaw and a distinctive nose. A strong, striking profile. His clothes were fine, though not too extravagant, suggesting he was either a lesser noble or a prosperous merchant.
Before he could catch her staring, she looked away. They sat in quiet silence for a while. She finally felt calm enough to observe the dancers in the square. Each couple exchanged their partner with the one next to them. This must be what square dancing was. She observed this yesterday and the day before too. It looked quite fun and Sehren wanted to join them but the movements were too complex to attempt by herself.
"I have taken my mask off," he said, turning back to her with a half-smile. "Won't you do me the honor of revealing your own face?"
Reluctantly, she pulled her mask up to rest on her forehead.
"You don't come to such festivities often. You prefer smaller circles, quieter moments. You must be a scholar," he mused.
"I'm... a maid," she admitted, inwardly cringing at how clumsy she sounded.
"And what I wonder is this maiden's name," he pressed.
"Sebil," she lied, unsure why she felt the need to hide the truth.
"And where do you work, Sebil?"
"I don't know you well enough to tell you that," she replied, regaining a bit of composure.
He chuckled softly. "We are getting to know each other well enough now."
They sat in silence for a while. He hummed an unknown tune and tapped his feet to the rhythm. The twirling pairs in the square began to slow, their numbers dwindling with each passing hour. The band playing music switched to a lazier tune which eventually culminated in a flutist solo. Around them, couples whispered by the fire or wandered off into the night, some wrapped in passionate embraces. Sehren deliberately avoided looking at them, feeling a flush of embarrassment.
"Morning will come soon." He said abruptly, his voice low. "I have yet to end an Autumn Moon night without a kiss from a fair maiden."
She froze. Did he expect me to kiss him? Her heart raced, a mix of confusion and indignation flooding her.
"Perhaps," he continued with a sigh, "this night will be the one to break my streak. And what a night it has been,"
Her annoyance flared at his melancholy tone. "We've done nothing special to mark the occasion tonight. I assume you dance away the three nights every year." Sehren observed, feeling her exasperation in check.
"I have fallen in love at first sight," he replied, his tone lacking any sincerity.
Sehren laughed sharply, unable to hide her contempt. Love at first sight? He doesn't mean with me, does he? Does he take me for a fool?
There were few things that Sehren truly hated. One was ocra and the other was probably the words love at first sight. These words were a lie. An excuse for selfishness. Her own mother had written those words on the cursed letter she left unceremoniously on the table next to an unwashed plate and utensils, the morning of 6th Sormttide. She had fallen madly in love with someone else and had no other choice but to convey her shameful feelings through a letter. Her father had collapsed from the shock of the betrayal, becoming ill and bedridden for two days.
Her expression must have shifted because he quickly backtracked, clearing his throat and throwing away any pretense on those grounds.
"Of course, love at first sight is just an infatuation. Gollief is a month for arousing such feelings." He continued. "But Autumn Moon is a commemoration of love and the expressions of love," He leaned closer. "And like you said, we have yet to do anything special to remember this night."
"Do you remember every woman you have ever kissed?" She challenged him.
"I remember every pair of lips, every hand and every cheek," he replied smoothly. "Each moment leaves an impression."
"You have such a way with words," she said.
"Thank you,"
"It does not follow that my comment must be a compliment,"
"... ah, I see," he raised an eyebrow, and grinned, flashing two rows of beautiful white teeth. That smile was probably efficient enough to disarm the most steadfast resolve.
"Such poetic, rehearsed words," she continued with a smirk, trying to stay level-headed despite the attacks at her composure. "Makes you sound as sly as the animal your mask represents."
"I wouldn't say rehearsed? I've had lots of practiced, yes, but not it was not premeditated. I've had plenty of Autumn Moon nights to hone my skills. My words now are as spontaneous as they are honest."
She remained silent. The sky was turning a lighter shade of blue. Dawn had come and the night's magic would soon end.
"Perhaps a compromise?" He suggested. And not waiting for Sehren to ask what kind, continued, "A kiss on the cheek for me and a kiss of the hand for you?"
Sehren paused, torn between amusement and irritation. No good will come of this. She thought. But as she weighed the idea of inviting his displeasure, she decided that perhaps it was better to humor him.
"Is this some kind of tradition you must fulfill every year? Like a challenge?" She asked.
"Honestly, yes," he said looking around at the rising sun. "And I do not have much time. If I don't have a kiss now, I'll fail the challenge."
"And what do I get in return?" Sehren persisted.
"You may come find me later,"
"Alright," Sehren laughed lightly, masking her true thoughts. "Lean forward and don't look into my eyes. I can't muster the courage if you stare,"
He seemed surprised. "This isn't your first time, is it?" He asked.
"What's it to you? Do you want the kiss or not?" She asked.
He leaned forward in response.
"And shall we wait for any witnesses to the act?"
"No, we have plenty here already."
She kissed his cheek, but her lips brushed close to his mouth by accident. For a moment, she lingered, feeling the warmth of him, and just a hint of peppermint and rose.
Her mind filled with conflicting thoughts—was it so wrong to give into this feeling? After all, she would never have an encounter like this again.
But she pulled away, her heart pounding and her face burning from the proximity of him. The intensity of his stare made it difficult to deny this overwhelming surge of energy between them. She was suddenly reminded of how beautiful he truly was.
Salacious thoughts questioned her restraint. Would it be so bad to continue this kiss? After all he said so himself, he does this every night. Her baser instincts seemed to say. You'll only be one of the others for him, but this might be a once in a lifetime opportunity for you to experience something like this.
This is a bad idea. she told herself. He cupped the back of her head, his fingers gentle as they ran through her braided hair loosening it from its bun.
"May I?" He whispered, his lips so close she could feel his breath.
She shut her eyes and nodded, unable to speak. His lips met hers in a soft, tender kiss. His tongue brushed against hers, hesitant, gentle. It wasn't desire—it was something deeper, something that sent a quiet thrill through her. She leaned in, and he tightened his arms around her. She let the moment wrap and engulf her senses.
As she walked back to the castle, the memory of the warm bonfire left her feeling colder from the stark reality that awaited her. The joy of the chance encounter with the stranger still lingered, like the soft afterglow of a fading star, but with each step, Sehren felt it slipping away. The towering walls of the castle loomed ahead, casting long shadows over her path, and with them came the weight of her daily routine—dull, predictable, and stifling. The memories of the night, though happy, now seemed distant, swallowed by the oppressive stillness of what lay ahead.
Sehren's return to routine was as dreary as she feared. The following days were endless chores—scrubbing floors, fetching water, and tending to other senior servants' every trivial need. Sebil, ever talkative, filled the air with her usual nonsense, gossiping about every passing servant and spinning wild stories that lacked any sense. She seemed to have no filter, her insensitivity bleeding through every word as she laughed about the princess's disastrous date with Prince What's-his-name from Ashengord during the Autumn Moon dinner at her palace. Apparently, his awkwardness was the talk of the castle, but Sehren couldn't bring herself to care.
Whenever she tried to focus on her work, Brenna lurked nearby, seizing every chance to make a cutting remark or shove her out of the way, the bullying relentless and sharp. There was no escape, no reprieve from the dull monotony or the cruel jabs.
Except the thoughts of the moonlit night that invaded her mind. Even as she scrubbed the floors or fetched water, Sehren couldn't shake the feeling of his lips on hers. It was maddening, the way her mind returned to that moment over and over again. She tried to focus on her tasks, but each time her mind wandered, she was back by the bonfire, lost in the warmth of his touch. It was just a kiss. she told herself. Nothing more. He's probably already forgotten me. But even as she said it, her heart betrayed her, hoping—foolishly, desperately—that maybe he hadn't.
Sebil would often seek out Sehren to communicate the scandals to. She had restocked her repository of gossip in just three nights.
Sehren tried her best to focus on her work, but it was difficult when Sebil was constantly buzzing around with fresh gossip. Every time Sebil approached with fresh stories, Sehren felt a knot of dread form in her stomach. She worried about the day Sebil would find out something scandalous about her—what if she had been seen at the festival? The kiss still lingered in her mind, but in Sebil's hands, the truth would be twisted beyond recognition.
"Oh, you won't believe what I heard about last night," she began, eyes gleaming with mischief. "You know Cora, the kitchen girl? Well, she was seen sneaking off with one of the stable boys after the Autumn Moon feast in the palace. The two of them disappeared for hours—hours! And they didn't come back looking innocent, that's for sure." She let out a giggle, clearly enjoying herself.
Oblivious to Sehren's unease, Sebil continued her tirade, her voice filled with gleeful malice as she recounted about the pageboy, the ladies-in-waiting and even the princess.
"I heard some of the servants talking," Sehren's heart skipped a beat, but she kept her expression neutral.
"What did they say?" She asked, evenly, avoiding her gaze.
Sebil's voice dropped low as she glanced around, making sure no one was listening. "I heard a few of the nobles weren't much better. You know Lord Dereth? He and that Lady Marella were seen being far too friendly at the square. Someone even said they slipped away to his manor before nightfall," She raised her eyebrows suggestively. "And I'm not talking about polite conversation, if you know what I mean."
She gave Sehren a knowing look, barely containing her smirk.
Sehren forced a smile, her heart racing. "Were they seen? Without their masks?" she asked, her voice steady despite her nerves.
"I'm sure no one else recognized them, they were wearing masks," Sebil shrugged. "But you know how it is. Masks hide nothing from those of us who pay attention."
Sehren made herself nod along, her thoughts racing. What if someone had recognized her? The thought made her cheeks burn. She could almost hear Sebil's exaggerated version of the kiss she'd shared with the man, how it would be twisted into a scandal far larger than it was.
"It's only these nobles who become blind to a face once it's obscured with a mask. The rest of us common folk, we know who is really hiding behind the mask. After all, I knew months ago that Lady Darla would wear a peacock mask and Lord Orlo prepared a raven mask which was vandalized so he had no choice but to don last year's pigeon."
Sebil, clearly in her element, continued, her voice brimming with excitement as she dished out more juicy details.
"And don't even get me started on Fenton, you know, the scullery boy? Well, apparently, he got so drunk on leftover wine that he passed out in the pantry! They found him snoring under a sack of potatoes this morning. Oh, and Lila—the one who's always bragging about how refined she is—was the one who tried to wake him up. She couldn't, and you can imagine the scene when the head cook walked in. I heard she's been sulking in the laundry room ever since."
Sebil paused for dramatic effect before launching into more.
"And did you hear about the fight? Two of the footmen, Erik and Rylan, got into it by the stables on the first night. Supposedly, they were both after the same chambermaid, and things got... well, physical. They were rolling around in the mud, fists flying, before the stablemaster had to break it up. Both of them got sent to muck out the stalls for the rest of the night."
She leaned in even closer, eyes wide with glee. "And this one... you didn't hear from me, but I overheard Lady Morwen's maid say that her mistress was completely sloshed by the end of the evening. She almost fell into the fountain! And Sir Gregor—Sir Gregor!—was the one who had to help her back to her chambers. Imagine that! They say she couldn't even walk straight, and him, all dignified, pretending nothing was happening." She snickered. "It's always the ones who act the most proper that end up being the messiest."
"Lots of sore heads in the morning, then, I imagine," said Sehren.
Life in the palace, in the following months, was far from quiet, even without Sebil's gossip. The castle was abuzz with preparations for another royal banquet to be held later in the month, a lavish event that would bring nobles from all across the kingdom. It was the kind of event that had every servant on edge, scrambling to ensure that every corner of the palace gleamed and that the grand dining hall was prepared for the arrival of lords and ladies who would scrutinize every detail.
Despite Sehren not opting for working in the kitchen she had to help out. The royal kitchens were a cacophony of sound, with cooks shouting orders and the clatter of pots and pans ringing through the air. The head cook, a stout woman named Marla, was notorious for her temper, and it seemed particularly foul in the days leading up to the banquet. Marla had thrown an entire tray of pastries into the fire after one of the scullery boys spilled a pot of honey, turning the kitchen into a sticky disaster.
The maids were equally busy, polishing the silverware until it gleamed like mirrors. Even the laundry room was a scene of chaos, with piles of linens and fine garments awaiting their turn under the scrubbing brushes. Sehren couldn't help but overhear some of the maids complaining that Lady Morwen had sent back an entire wardrobe of gowns, declaring them unfit for her to wear at the banquet.
During this time, there was the matter of the king's health. There had been another poisoning attempt. Sehren had overheard a maid from the king's palace talking to Brenna about it.
"I heard the royal physician say it was worse than last time," the maid had murmured to Brenna, casting a wary glance over her shoulder. "The king barely made it through the night after that last meal. Poison again, they think."
Sehren had paused in her work, her hand frozen on the linens she was scrubbing, listening intently while trying to appear disinterested. Another poisoning attempt? The idea made her stomach twist with unease. The rumors of the previous attempts had been quieted quickly, but if the king's health was truly worsening... Power vacuums were never silent.
The physician apparently said that the king's health could take a turn for the worse. The royal family tried to keep the news quiet, but the tension among the royal advisors was palpable. Everyone knew that the king's illness could trigger a power struggle among his closest allies and throw the kingdom into chaos.
As the days wore on, the palace seemed to settle into a deceptive calm. Sehren went about her duties, but her thoughts were elsewhere. The memory of the masked man—his kiss, his touch—kept creeping into her thoughts. What was it about him that lingered so much longer than it should have? She felt foolish, dwelling on a man she would never see again, someone who likely didn't even think about her. And yet, the way he had kissed her, the way he had looked at her, made her wonder if there could ever be something more.
But more than that, the tension in the palace was growing harder to ignore. The poisoning attempts, the gossip, and the increasing secrecy among the nobles—all of it left a bitter taste in her mouth. She wasn't sure what was happening behind the closed doors of the court, but whatever it was, it made her feel uneasy.
One evening, when Sehren should have been polishing the chandelier's crystal, she instead found herself in the study, where she had no business being. She knew it was the time for the princess's private lessons—no servant was allowed near. But Sebil, always too bold for her own good, had grabbed her hand and dragged her along despite her protests. "Come on, just for a moment!" she whispered, pulling Sehren into a corner behind a large tapestry. Sehren's protests were silenced by Sebil's shush. "Trust me, you'll want to hear this."
Pressed into the narrow space, Sehren tried to calm her racing heart. They shouldn't be here. She was about to scold Sebil when voices filled the room. The familiar tones of the princess's governess and an advisor drifted through the air. "Her fluency in the Ashengord dialect has improved remarkably. Soon, she'll be ready to hold her own in any court debate." Sebil nudged her lightly, a knowing look in his eyes, but Sehren didn't respond. Her curiosity overtook her fear.
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The conversation continued, growing heavier with meaning. "It's essential she feels comfortable with their ways," the advisor said, his voice low. "The time is coming when she will need to embrace her role fully." Sehren wondered why she needed to hear this from such a dangerous position. Then the governess spoke again, her voice soft but certain. "Her future isn't here, after all. It never was." The words hung in the air, weighted with meaning Sehren didn't yet understand.
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Please comment what you think. What could the governess be talking about? What could the identity of the masked man be? Who is poisoning the king? Share your thoughts!!
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