Ashes Beneath the Crown - by Shedrach Ojodomo Tijani

Chapter 2: A Court of Masks The court was a theatre, and everyone wore a mask.Some were silk and gold, worn proudly for the Remembrance Ball that marked the climax of the festival. Others were invisible—stitched from ambition, lies, and whispered alliances. Seraphina moved through both with practiced ease, gliding between nobles and servants alike, her steps light and her ears sharper than ever.She had spent the morning learning the rhythm of palace life from beneath her servant’s veil—who walked where, which guards lingered too long, what hallways were rarely patrolled. But it was the evening, the grand ball, that would tell her everything she needed to know.Who still held power. Who pretended to. And who could be broken.Maera had left her a simple black gown with silver trim—not grand, not poor, perfectly forgettable. Her face remained obscured by the veil of her “Eryndor” persona, and her silence only helped her blend in. Handmaidens were meant to observe, not speak.From the shadows of the East Wing, she watched as nobles poured into the ballroom beneath vaulted ceilings and crystal chandeliers. The hall shimmered with magic and opulence—harpists played near the dais, and servants circled like silent birds with trays of honeyed wine and rose-dusted pastries. The scent of lavender clung to the air, masking the rot beneath the splendor.And there, at the center of it all, stood the man who had burned her world.Lord Kael Draven.He wore a midnight cloak and a lion-shaped brooch on his chest—the same crest he had stolen. His silver hair was slicked back, his smile gleaming as he greeted guests like a benevolent ruler. Only Seraphina knew the truth.He was a serpent wrapped in silk.As he offered a toast, the room fell into reverent silence."Five years since the tragedy that nearly shattered our kingdom,” Kael said smoothly, voice rich and commanding. “But from ruin, we have rebuilt. From ashes, a brighter crown has emerged. Let us honor those lost… and those who carry us forward.”The crowd applauded. Seraphina clenched her jaw.He spoke of ashes like a poet. But he had spilled that ash with his own hands.“Not impressed?” a voice murmured behind her.She turned, startled, and found herself face-to-face with a man she hadn’t seen before. He wore a mask of black leather edged with bronze, revealing only a pair of sharp, gold-flecked eyes.She knew those eyes.Elias Thorne.Son of Kael. Commander of the palace guard. Loyal. Dangerous.And far more perceptive than she'd hoped.“I beg your pardon, my lord,” she said quickly, lowering her head.He tilted his head, studying her. “You don’t sound like the others. Where are you from?”“East of the Amaranth river,” she replied, carefully measured. “I was recently assigned to Lady Thalia’s service.”Elias’s mouth twitched. “Thalia always did like collecting rare things.”Seraphina said nothing. Silence was safer.“I don’t recall seeing you at any of the past festivals,” he said, voice probing now.She met his gaze beneath her lashes. “My family kept to the valleys. We don’t travel often.”A pause. A beat of tension stretched between them.Then, unexpectedly, Elias chuckled. “You’re not like the others. Most girls would be tripping over their words to get my name.”She smiled faintly. “You gave it freely.”The corner of his mouth lifted in amusement, but before he could reply, a page called for his attention. With a lingering glance, Elias turned and vanished into the crowd.Seraphina exhaled slowly.He had noticed her.Not who she was—yet—but enough to be curious. She would need to be careful. Elias was too observant. Too clever.But part of her also remembered his eyes… not cold like Kael’s, but sharp with something else. Doubt, perhaps. Or weariness.That could be useful.She drifted closer to the dais, now watching Thalia laugh with two barons, sipping wine like a queen. Lady Thalia was more powerful than she'd first appeared—her position more secure. Seraphina filed it away for later.She also noticed the absence of certain names. Houses that had once held sway were missing entirely. Likely dead. Or disgraced. Kael had purged the court as thoroughly as he’d taken the throne.“Eryndor.”Thalia’s sharp voice pulled her back to the present.Seraphina moved quickly to her side, bowing. “Yes, my lady?”“Take this to my quarters,” Thalia said, handing her a velvet-wrapped parcel and an amused smile. “And don’t be tempted to peek. What’s inside could cost more than your life.”Seraphina took the package and walked swiftly from the ballroom, her thoughts racing.She didn’t care what was inside—jewels, perhaps, or enchanted heirlooms. What mattered was where it led her.Thalia’s private chambers.She returned through the East Wing and slipped into the noblewoman’s rooms. As she set the parcel down, her eyes scanned the space. Richly adorned. Scrolls and books lining a glass case. Letters scattered on a writing desk.One stood out.A sealed note bearing Kael’s crest, half-hidden beneath a ledger.Heart thudding, Seraphina moved toward it, reaching—The door creaked open.She froze.Not Thalia.Elias.His expression shifted instantly. Confusion. Recognition."…You.”“I—I was just—” Seraphina stepped back from the desk.Elias’s eyes narrowed. He crossed the room with calm, deliberate steps, then glanced at the unopened parcel, the faint glow of candlelight flickering across the golden crest on his collar.“You’re not just a handmaiden,” he said quietly.Panic shot through her, but she masked it with fear. The kind a real servant would feel.“I meant no harm,” she whispered. “I didn’t open anything. I was only placing it down when I heard the door—”He studied her. Not with anger. But suspicion laced with something else.Curiosity.“You have courage,” he said finally. “Most servants tremble around titles.”“I’ve seen enough titles fall,” she replied before she could stop herself.A pause. Elias looked at her more carefully this time. Like a puzzle he hadn’t yet solved.Then he nodded once. “You should return before Thalia wonders.”Seraphina bowed and slipped past him, heart racing.He suspected.But not enough.Not yet.As she vanished back into the servant corridors, she whispered the words she’d carried for five long years:I will reclaim what was taken. One lie at a time. One mask at a time.

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