Beneath the Mask

I watch her from my perch high on the balcony above the dance below. She dances with the grace of a pen sliding across a scribe's paper. Her partner is a weak and insignificant placeholder for someone truly beautiful and ethereal as the stars in the sky. I sigh at the utter frustration of it all. I cannot dance, I am the son of a minor noble, a possessor of naught but a hamlet or two. My stature brings to mind a tall and gangly colt, brown shaggy hair, and dingy green eyes give the overall impression of a young man who's done nothing but read unending piles of books and scrolls. Though I am all these things, one thing that reigns above all of these is love… love for a girl far above my station. I would sell my birthright for a simple acknowledgement of my existence, but alas, she knows nothing of me. I spend my days staring but never saying, studying but never acting, and every day I'm left breathless at the sight of her beauty, her compassionate heart, and her singsong voice that blesses the poor, unfortunate, and needy in a way no other woman could.

I grab a glass of champagne off a passing plate. I take a sip from the clear crystal and walk down the stairs to the floor below. The main hall is cavernous, with golden accents covering the walls and stairs. Golden statues on pedestals from distant countries and large chandeliers with crystal and flickering lights all contribute to the show that reflects the king's wealth in a decadence that others could only dream of. His reign had been long, full of prosperous trade deals, successful marriages, and deep alliances that would take a war to end. These marriages have produced countless offspring, ensuring his family line proceeds far into the future, and his youngest daughter, the princess Mercy, was left with no sure hope of ruling but instead would end up being a swift marriage to a foreign lord twice her age. Many believed this would be her eventual end, but having been in school with her for nearly a year, I found that theory to be absurd. Her father loved her more than any son or daughter before her. He named her Mercy because to him all of the sons and daughters his wives had given him were naught but trials and tribulations until the god blessed him with the mercy of this beautiful daughter.

I arrive at the dancing hall and for a second I find myself lost in the organized chaos of it all. Each of these nobles seeks the attention of the princess, and she, in her loving temperament, tries to give them each an opportunity. I await my turn, hoping that my lack of self-esteem doesn't ruin my one chance to get her to notice me. While waiting my turn, I watch as she dances amongst many other ladies-in-waiting. Her beautiful hair is a mixture of blondes and browns that shimmer in the glow of the overhanging chandeliers, her figure tall and regal but also somehow warm and soft. Her eyes, for that is all you could see through the half mask she uses for the masquerade, are a soft brown, which, in a sea of blue and green eyes, leave a sense of exoticism that many of the ladies here lack. The dress she chose is a pale cream with the blue accents of her father's crest. She finishes yet another round with some young lord before walking back over to the line of men that wait their turn. Midway to her walk, a servant who is carrying glasses of champagne trips into her grace, the glass shattering and breaking the revelry of the evening. The entire dance hall goes quiet. Even the musicians falter. The servant looks up with terror written across his face—but Mercy simply smiles beneath her mask and offers her hand. He looks up, expecting wrath, but finds the compassion of a princess.

I stand in the lineup and can feel my cursed ears and cheeks redden with nerves as I pray to the god that she will notice me. I try to stand confidently, but I'm well aware of my limitations in the art of confidence and esteem, and so I am sure it made my appearance more comical than the image of manhood and confidence I tried to convey.

She walks down the line observing each of the lords, and I feel my hope dimming. I look down at the floor, the feelings of inadequacy consuming me. I see a shadow move into my vision and know she must be standing in front of me. I look up, my breath freezing in my lungs. She holds out her hand, the corners of her eyes revealing a smile. I bow and kiss her hand, muscle memory saving me from my frozen mind. She looks at me, and for a second, I feel my eyes must be lying to me, for lo and behold, she nods. I take her hand and lead her out onto the floor. The realization that I cannot dance almost makes me stumble, but then, over the beautiful sounds of violin and piano, I hear the soft voice of the princess. "Do not fear, just follow my lead." I do exactly that, and on our third turn, I find the courage to attempt to engage her in conversation. "Your grace, thank you for the immense honor of granting me this dance."

She laughs lightly at the formality.

"Please, just call me by my name, dear sir."

"I uh, I… yes, Mercy." The words stumble out of my mouth like water breaking over stone.

"What is your name, Milord?" she asks me as she leads me into a fourth rotation.

"Please, Mercy, I am nothing but a minor lord. My father was placed in authority over two hamlets. This dance I am both unworthy of and in awe of. My name is Finnian of House Shadows."

She smiles at my humility.

"It is refreshing to meet a man whose humility is far greater than his arrogance. The name Shadows does ring a bell."

"My father saved your father by taking an arrow to the shoulder that would've taken the king through his throat. Your father, in recognition of his valiant sacrifice, bequeathed him the title of lord and granted him land on which two villages reside." I share with her the short history of my family.

"I remember that story well. My father often tells the story of the noble Finnik, 'The Shieldwall' Shadows. It is my pleasure to meet his son." She leads me down another lane, and I become aware that she is leading me into another song.

"So you attend the academy, Lord Finnian?"

"I do, milady," I try to keep my answer short.

"Hmm, I thought I'd seen you in the halls, and more specifically, the library." Her eyes, man, those eyes…. They regard me with a knowledge that I felt was a secret.

"I—yes. The library. I find myself there most afternoons. Near the eastern windows where the light—" I stop myself, realizing I'm about to describe exactly where she often sits.

"Indeed, the eastern windows… It is by far the most beautiful place in the entire academy. I often find myself there as well. You typically read 'The Exhaustive Works of Talious the Wise,' do you not?" She reveals to me something I did not expect… She has noticed me as well.

"I uh, yes… yes, though father wishes I spend more time in the training yards than the stacks. He didn't take an arrow for the king so his son could become a scribe." I say with shame.

"You have nothing to take shame from, Finnian. Your father did what he did because he is honorable. What you are doing will bring more than just honor, but power as well. For ignorance will always bring shame, but knowledge? It brings power." She tells me plainly and without a hint of sarcasm.

"You honor me beyond reason, milady. Your beauty pales in comparison to your compassion. How do you notice one as imperfect as I?" I do not know what came over me—this sudden bravery to ask such a question.

"I notice you because I notice those who pursue not just knowledge but that which they feel they cannot obtain. You look at me and can only think of your ineptitude, but I see a man who not only notices me but one who would value me not for my station but for the challenge of an equal." She reveals to me with a surety that leaves me dumbstruck.

It takes me several steps into our dance to formulate a coherent sentence in my mind.

"Your father would never be happy with seeing us together. My status as a low-born lord would tarnish your reputation as well as your father's, I'm sure."

She laughs again, her mask rises a little, and I can see a slender nose and high cheekbones.

"Finnian, my father can afford for me to marry someone for…love. He has enough sons and daughters to solidify alliances as well as rule this kingdom." She tells me with a certainty that leaves me breathless.

"Mercy, how is it that you seem so… familiar with me? As though you have…" The thought leaves me at a loss for words.

"Been following you?" she finishes my question.

I can only nod.

"Because I have. It started as a curiosity. I noticed you many times observing me, studying me. However, when I turned the tables around, I found that I myself was also drawn to you. You are a fascinating man, Finnian. Your desire to gain knowledge, your very obvious feelings for me, left me wanting to know more and more about you."

By this time, we are both simply going through the dance motions. I'm not even sure at this point I can call it dancing because I was so shocked that all I could do was follow her around the dance floor.

"Mercy, may I be blunt with you…"

"Please, entirely so."

"I fell for you the moment I first saw you. It wasn't just your beauty that caught me, though your beauty alone would be reason enough. It was your compassionate heart towards those deemed lesser in society, as well as your love for books and knowledge. I feel a connection to that, an attraction to that, which leaves me breathless and hopelessly in love with you." When I finish, I find myself struggling to breathe. That was a stupid maneuver, one that may cost me her heart. It was too direct, and yet, I am glad to be honest with her.

The next thing that happens will be something I shall never forget.

She stops mid-dance. I almost trip and fall to the floor.

The music stops instantly, the violin makes a screeching noise as it stops, echoing across the dance hall, while several lords whisper to each other. A group of ladies somewhere behind us gasp.

"Finnian..." Her hand reaches up to pull off the mask, and my world seems to stop.

Her face is a picture of perfection, eyes full of emotion so deep that for a moment I feel myself drowning in them. I instinctively place my hand on her cheek… and lean in. We kiss, and for a second, I forget the world exists. Everything seems so…right.

I pull back first… I glance around the room and see the one person whose reaction I'd been too frightened to imagine. The king stands on the raised dais at the head of the dance floor. He watches us now… I turn to Mercy, who embraces me, and to my utter amazement, the king nods, granting his consent…

My heart, already full to bursting, swells with shock and wonder.

I see several lords whose glares promise future trouble… I choose to live in the moment.