While Regina was never one to brag about her virtues, she did take comfort in her ability to put others at ease.


    Granted, her ability to put others at ease largely came from her ability to blend in so well with the wallpaper that people barely noticed she was there.


    However, over the last few months, Regina had been thrust into the public eye and made the acquaintance of hundreds of Carcosans. She had comforted and housed orphans, rescued and praised scores of humble commoners, and even learned to flatter nobles like the haughty Marquess La Belle.


    So while Regina still felt uncomfortable in social situations, she had learned to overcome her nerves and earn the approval of the person she was currently holding in conversation.


    It had been horrifying to discover that this approval was obviously backfiring on her… but still.


    In spite of all this, Regina had finally found a noble that was more off putting than the threat of her imminent death.


    ‘Still,’ she reasoned, ‘however eerie this nobleman’s mask may be, he cannot be that powerful if he is asking to dance with a mousy wallflower like I have been pretending to be. He must be a country baron or the branch member of a more powerful family that is out to find a bride before he leaves the Capital. I have nothing to fear.’


    Thus, Regina summoned what she hoped was an alluring smile that was barely visible through her falcon mask and said, “I do enjoy sharing. Are you willing to share your secrets on this enchanted evening?”


    The man in front of her paused briefly before laughing in a way Regina found strangely familiar  even through the voice changing magic, the vines decorating the edge of his golden skull mask glinting in the light.


    “Do you,” said the man, his voice still rich with amusement, “normally have much success with gaining the secrets of others this way?”


    Regina shrugged, trying to seem coy and charming rather than crass. “On an evening like this, where everyone is masked but must harbor secrets, is my direct approach not worth a try?”


    “I suppose,” said the man, sounding almost thoughtful, “that if one were to only look at the people in this room, one would think that the first thing people do when they have a secret is to allow others to discover it.”


    He was, Regina realized, entirely correct as she looked at all the nobles who obviously knew the people in their small clusters of discussion, despite the voice and feature changing magic. Much as she had made Artem reveal himself by his behavior, most of the nobles in the room had exposed themselves through their use of magic or direct conversation.


    For all that the nobles at this masquerade claimed they wished to be unknown, it seemed as if they only wanted to be free of the consequences of being known.


    It was as though the secrets they shared mattered not at all.


    “So many people,” said Regina thoughtfully, “want to feel important. Sharing a secret is a way to be important rather than the secret having value itself.”


    “That is a thought worthy of your abilities,” said the man in front of her as Regina was unpleasantly reminded that he was standing in front of her. “However, you do realize that you have just implied that I want to feel important?”


    Regina blinked, before she remembered that she had asked him to share his secrets.


    “Well,” said Regina, feeling for once like the clown she had been trying to make herself, “you do seem like someone who wants to be important!”


    The man threw back his head and let out a laugh that resounded in the hall.


    “I cannot resist any longer,” he said, as he took a step towards her. “You are as correct as you are charming. Please let us dance.”


    The masked man then extended a gloved hand to her, not a single strip of skin showing beneath his outfit. With a bright smile meant to hide the sudden trepidation in her heart, Regina took it.


    She was actually surprised when the man took the hand as an invitation to lead her into a smooth and stately rhythm that matched the lively music of the masquerade’s orchestra. Even if this man was a country baron out to win a quiet bride to take back home, he danced like a prince.


    “Tell me,” Regina teased, trying again to ease the way for an exchange of information, “is one of your secrets years of dancing practice? You are one of the most graceful partners I have ever had escorting me.”


    “You are truly impressive, my lady,” said the masked man in a tone that sounded strangely sincere. “No matter what challenge you face, you pursue what matters to you in the face of overwhelming obstacles.”


    Regina was more than a little taken aback, because she was unsure how a slightly awkward conversation could count as an overwhelming obstacle… unless perhaps the man in front of her was as much of in-bred shut-in as she was.


    “Do you also find crowds a great challenge?” she said sympathetically. “It can be hard to accomplish goals if there are too many people constantly watching everything you do.”


    The man in front of her started and Regina felt an odd pressure against her, as if it was momentarily hard to breathe, before he laughed once more.


    “You are truly remarkable,” he said. “You press and then when it seems like you would retreat, you reveal another angle to seek. You deserve to find success against the likes of those who drift around this floor like the empty vases they always will be.”


    Regina wondered for one wild, uncomfortable moment if Henrietta had both somehow managed to disguise herself as a man and make her way to the ball before realizing it was impossible.


    Henrietta would have had at least one vase under her arm and not just in her conversation if she was actually present.


    “I am unsure I deserve your praise,” Regina finally replied, confused by the tone of her partner’s conversation. “After all, I am merely the human equivalent of beige, a true wallflower.”


    “I wish,” said the man in the death’s head mask and he sounded almost sad, “that you were.”


    Regina blinked hard at that.


    ‘What in Carcosa,’ she wondered, ‘does this man mean? All I have done this evening as far as anyone can tell is hug the walls and listen to other people’s conversations. The only way this nobleman can believe I am not a wallflower is…’


    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Suddenly, Regina’s forays into bad romance novels were proving to be as prophetic as her dreams.


    After all, Artem thought she had fallen in love with him during their first meeting and shortly after her rescue, he had fallen for her. Therefore as much fun as Regina and Henrietta liked to poke at bad romance novels and the inevitable love-at-first sight stories within them…


    All those terrible romance novels were accurate and noblemen really did fall for women after the briefest of acquaintances!


    What’s more, apparently, mousy young ladies could just waltz into a masquerade ball and have a mysterious nobleman fall in love with them even as that woman… did nothing remarkable.


    Regina was suddenly reminded of the one very mysterious uncomfortable conversation she had had with her father when she was close to becoming of age. Her father had hemmed and hawed and finally told her to beware of men who only wanted “that”.


    Regina had no idea at the time what “that” was and thought, based on her own parents, that men probably wanted gigantic… accounting charts.


    Now, though, Regina suddenly realized the truth.


    Apparently, the “that” that noblemen wanted… was a human variation on porridge.


    Suddenly armed with this horrifying truth, Regina could no longer hold back her thoughts.


    “Do not tell me,” Regina cried despite herself, “that you have fallen in love with me!”


    Even as Regina stared at her suddenly still dance partner, she frantically wondered what she should do.


    Should she flee from this lovestruck suitor… or find some way to use his ardor to pump him for more information?


    Yet before Regina could make up her mind on what approach to take, her partner chose for her.


    “You need not,” said the man, sounding an odd combination of amused and baffled, “sound so horrified.”


    Regina stared in open horror before the man began laughing once more.


    “You need not fear, my lady,” said the man, as he began to spin her once more. “I do not have what it would take to secure someone of your abilities.”


    It was not the open denial Regina had been hoping for, but she made a mental note to warn her future children to avoid being bland. It was apparently far too dangerous to others’ emotional health.


    However, since the man in front of her was being physically respectful and not seeming to press the matter, Regina decided that it was worth finishing the dance, even if only to avoid drawing further attention.


    The masked man rewarded her for her decision by changing the subject.


    “So are you enjoying the… dance, my lady?”


    Regina decided that he must be referring to the ball itself and wondered if he had perhaps been so blinded by his taste for porridge that he had missed her earlier role at the ball.


    She was deeply puzzled as to why someone would grab her wallpaper self for a dance to begin with, much less fall in love with her, but surely anyone with eyes could see that she had been imitating a potted plant for the last half hour.


    “Why yes,” said Regina, rolling her eyes behind her mask, not quite able to keep all of the sarcasm fully contained. “I do enjoy watching other people spin dizzily.”


    “Well, you do well when you are not watching,” said the masked man, expertly spinning her under his arm, in a way Regina thought was a bit… modern for the more formal noble dances. “Watch too long though and someone might watch back.”


    ‘Is this a threat?’ Regina wondered, suddenly on much fuller alert, and wondering if she had completely misinterpreted the masked man’s interest.


    “What harm,” she said, her voice suddenly sharper, “could merely staying out of the way do to anyone else?”


    The man laughed once again, a surprisingly rich sound, considering how bland his speaking voice was outside of vague hints of emotion.


    “My lady,” he said, when he stopped laughing, “I do not believe you have ever successfully stayed out of the way in your life.”


    Before Regina could break free of him in annoyance, he added, “Even if you had, a conversation requires everyone who hears it to participate. Those who merely listen are not partners… they are eavesdroppers.”


    Now truly alarmed, Regina immediately used her best Sheridan survival defense - a reminder that she was utterly and completely normal.


    “Oh, come now,” she said, with a fake laugh of her own. “This is a ballroom not a bedroom. Who speaks here who does not want to be heard?”


    The man with the strangely flower-shaped mask cocked his head. “You are a formidable conversationalist.”


    Regina was glad of the mask that prevented her fear and annoyance from showing. “First, I am accused of not speaking. Then I am accused of speaking formidably. How exactly should I present myself to you?”


    The man stumbled for a second, before swiftly recovering.


    “Now that,” he said with a tone of almost wonder, “is a question I should have considered.”


    “Well,” said Regina, seizing the advantage, “if you are considering questions, perhaps you can also answer why you are so interested in my concerns.”


    The man shrugged before spinning them both out of the way of another couple. “You were part of the crowd and yet not. I found it interesting.”


    “Do you normally,” said Regina dryly, “ask young women you find interesting to dance and then accuse them of being inappropriate?”


    “Oh no,” said the death mask, “you are definitely the first. I hope I have been your most interesting partner as well.”


    Regina laughed at that, relieved that the man seemed less murderous and more like a spoiled nobleman looking for his night’s entertainment.


    “I am afraid not,” she said gently, laughter still in her voice. “I have another partner and he is… well,  it would be hard to be more interesting than him!”


    Hastily, hoping she did not just break this masked man’s heart, Regina added, “Though of course, I do not wish to slight your… charms. I am sure that a man like you is much in demand!”


    Rather than responding to her flattery, the masked man paused once more and when he spoke, his voice echoed oddly behind his mask. “You truly care for your fiancé, do you not?”


    Regina, frowned behind her mask, as she replied quickly and firmly, already annoyed by how people had insulted Artem all evening.


    “Of course I do!” she cried. “He is a kind, sweet, generous person who would move the world for me. I am grateful to have him in my life, whatever complications he might bring!”


    After all, she would literally be dead without Artem in her life.


    So how could she not care for her frolicking, shiny, jewel-bedecked dove?


    It was only after Regina spoke that she had cause to wonder why the masked man sounded more sad than insulting.


    She was still puzzling over the masked nobleman’s tone when the air in front of her almost seemed to shimmer and –


    It only occurred to Regina when the man with the death mask abruptly disappeared that no one should have known she had a fiancé in the first place.


    ~???~


    Dread building in her throat, Regina whirled to look for her always visible fiancé.


    As she stood there, dazed, the truth was immediately obvious.


    Artem Alpin had disappeared.