The Mask Wolf Three
1456 Words
Ashen Continues
Moon’s eyes flickered with surprise.
“You said you did not know the steps.”
“I said I was not certain.”
“That was very nearly a lie.”
“It was more of a hopeful misunderstanding.”
Her smile widened.
We turned.
The room blurred around us.
For one impossible moment, I forgot the mask. Forgot the twins. Forgot Dorian’s eyes burning into my back. Forgot that midnight was coming with teeth.
There was only music.
Moonlight.
Her hand in mine.
And the strange, terrifying ease of being seen without being known.
Then I noticed the staring.
Too many eyes.
Too many whispers.
My shoulders tightened.
“Why is everyone staring at us?” I murmured.
Moon’s expression remained serene, but her eyes danced.
“Because you are handsome.”
I nearly missed a step.
She guided me back smoothly.
“That cannot be the only reason,” I said.
“No,” she agreed. “You are also enchanting the floor.”
I looked down.
A faint trail of frost shimmered beneath our steps, disappearing almost as quickly as it formed.
Panic flashed through me.
Moon’s hand tightened slightly on mine.
“Breathe,” she said.
“I am.”
“Better.”
I forced air into my lungs.
The frost faded.
“How are you not alarmed?” I asked.
“I live in a palace filled with wolves who think growling is diplomacy. A little frost is refreshing.”
I laughed.
A real laugh.
Low and startled.
Her eyes fixed on me again.
This time, there was no mistaking it.
The princess liked my smile.
That knowledge was more dangerous than Callan’s hand on my mask.
The dance carried us toward the edge of the ballroom, then through an open set of glass doors leading onto the west balcony. Moon did not stop me. I did not stop her.
Outside, the night air was cold and clean.
Below us, the palace gardens stretched under the Rare Moon. Silver paths cut through beds of sleeping flowers. Fountains glittered. Farther out, beyond the walls, the dark forest waited.
The music softened behind us.
Moon released my hand slowly.
“Which pack are you from?” she asked.
There it was.
The question I had feared.
I looked over the balcony railing. “A cold one.”
“There are several cold packs.”
“Then I am giving you several options.”
She leaned beside me, close enough that I could smell something through the mask.
Moonwater.
Night flowers.
Storm air.
Her.
“Why have I never seen you before?” she asked. “I have visited every pack in LunariaNova.”
“I work hard.”
The words came out before I could soften them.
Moon grew quiet.
I cursed myself.
“I mean,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck, “I am not often where guests are received.”
“That sounds lonely.”
“It sounds efficient.”
“It sounds lonely,” she repeated.
I looked at her.
Most people heard what they wanted.
Moon heard what slipped out when I forgot to guard the door.
She turned toward the gardens. “Do you see those flowers near the lower fountain?”
I followed her gaze. Pale buds stood closed beneath the moonlight.
“Moon lilies,” she said. “They bloom once a year. Only for one night.”
“That seems like a lot of pressure for a flower.”
She smiled. “We hold a ceremony when they open. Music. Lanterns. Too many speeches. Cakes I am not supposed to steal.”
“Tragic.”
“You should come.”
My fingers tightened around the balcony rail.
Come back?
To the palace?
To her?
“Maybe,” I said.
Her head turned.
“Maybe?”
“It sounds beautiful.”
“That was not a yes.”
“No.”
“Are you blowing me off?”
I looked at her too fast. “No.”
“Are you not interested?”
“No. I mean yes. I mean—” I stopped as her eyes brightened with amusement. “Forgive me, Princess. My words have chosen treason.”
“There is a lot of treason tonight.”
“I am beginning to notice.”
She laughed again.
I wanted to hear it one more time.
That was the most foolish thought I had ever had.
Then Moon went still.
Her smile faded, not with fear, but focus.
She stepped closer.
I stepped back without meaning to.
“What is it?” I asked.
“You smell good.”
My heart stopped.
The mask.
Veyra said the mask would hide my scent.
No face. No scent. No magic.
“What?” I asked, too quickly.
Moon’s brows drew together. “Frost. Winter roses. Something…” Her voice lowered. “Older.”
I touched the edge of the mask.
It was warm.
Too warm.
“That is not possible.”
“Why?”
“I—” I swallowed. “Cologne, perhaps.”
“You do not seem like a Cologne sort of wolf.”
“I could be full of surprises.”
“You are.”
The first bell rang in the distance.
Low.
Deep.
The sound rolled through the palace stones.
My blood chilled.
Midnight.
Moon heard it too, but her attention stayed on me.
“Why can’t I feel your wolf?” she asked softly.
The question struck deeper than Callan’s insults ever had.
I looked away.
There were a thousand cruel answers waiting in memory.
Because there is nothing worth feeling.
Because omegas do not need wolves strong enough to matter.
Because your father broke something before you were born.
Because shame has a scent, and yours learned to hide.
Moon touched the railing, not me.
giving me space.
“It is all right,” she said.
I glanced at her.
“If your wolf has not come forward yet, there is no shame in that.” Her voice gentled in a way I did not know what to do with. “Some wolves are shy. Some take longer to trust the world.”
I stared at her.
No one had ever said that.
No one had ever taken the absence they believed in me and made it sound like something worth protecting.
“How old are you?” she asked.
“Nineteen.”
Her expression softened. “Me too.”
The second bell rang.
The mask pulsed.
Moon’s eyes widened.
“Your mask.”
I reached up.
Blue-white light spilled between my fingers.
The silver frostwork had begun to glow.
Veyra’s warning slammed through me.
When the clock strikes midnight, run. Fae magic can lie to wolves, Ashen, but it cannot lie to the moon.
Moon stepped closer. “Are you hurt?”
“No.”
The mask burned hotter.
She lifted her hand. “Let me see—”
“Please do not.”
She stopped at once.
That made it worse.
If she had pushed, I could have feared her.
If she had demanded, I could have remembered my place.
But she stopped because I asked.
I backed away.
My fingers found my mother’s ring, twisting it around my finger. I had worn it beneath gloves, beneath sleeves, beneath shame for so long that touching it was as natural as breathing.
Moon’s gaze dropped to it.
The third bell rang.
The mask glowed softly near my temple.
“I have to go,” I said.
“Wait.”
“I am sorry, Princess.”
“YOUR name,” she said. “Give me your name.”
I wanted to.
Moon Goddess, help me, I wanted to.
But if I gave her my name, the night would follow me home.
To Nara.
To Veyra.
To the packhouse where Callan and Lady Seraphine knew how to turn any small hope into a weapon.
The fourth bell rang.
My ring slipped loose beneath my nervous fingers.
I did not notice.
Not yet.
“I am sorry, Princess,” I said again, backing toward the balcony doors. “I really have to go. I am not feeling well.”
“Please”
I froze.
But something in her voice brushed too close to it.
The fifth bell rang.
The mask glow brightened.
I turned and ran.
Behind me, something bronzer struck the balcony floor with a soft, delicate sound.
Moon gasped.
“Wait!”
I did not.
I could not.
The sixth bell rang as I reached the corridor, the mask burning like moonfire against my skin.
Behind me, Princess Moona PentNova picked up my mother’s ring.
And I ran before the moon could tell her my name.
- Writer
