Article: When the Midwinter Masque began...

When the Midwinter Masque began, the Night Court was abuzz with rumor and anticipation, but the cusp of the Longest Night came and went with no sign of Prince Imriel. The horologers cried the hour, the Sun Prince came in his gleaming chariot, cloth-of-gold attire and gilded mask. He pointed his gilded spear at the Winter Queen. Her tattered robes fell away and she removed the grey mare's-tail wig and crone's mask she wore, showing herself to be young and beautiful. As always, she was an adept of Cereus House. The Sun Prince placed a ceremonial ring on her finger, then removed his shining mask, revealing himself to be Felix Duchamel of Heliotrope House.

Naturally, all their adepts cheered.

I sighed behind my satyr's mask.

"The smart money was on Felix this year, Simon," Alain whispered in my ear. He was a Jasmine adept with tawny skin and smoldering dark eyes that gave the lie to his languid demeanor. "Don't tell me you bet against him."

"All right, I won't."

The Night's Crier swung his baton and struck the gong, announcing the new year and the return of the light. A chorus of trumpets gave a long, joyful blast. Alain laughed and kissed me with enough ardor to fire my blood, then slipped away when I reached for him. "Find me later."

"I'll try."

The Longest Night held no guarantees. It is the one night of the year when those of us who serve Naamah and give pleasure to the world are given absolute license to please ourselves with one another or anyone we chose. And once midnight passed, the revelry began in earnest.

I drank down a cup of joie offered by a pretty apprentice, the rare cordial at once cool and fiery, then plunged into the throng in search of Alain. Instead, I found Daphne, a pale, flawless beauty from Camellia House. She was costumed as a Frost Maiden, shimmering in silver and white, a white domino covering her eyes.

"Simon nó Eglantine." Her masked face dipped toward mine, tongue flickering over my lips. "I'm feeling acrobatic."

I smiled. "Oh, are you?"

"Oh, yes."

It was my trade and I was good at it. All of us at Eglantine House are good at whatever we do, along with providing pleasure. Acrobatics make for a strong back and arms. I took Daphne standing, braced against a stairway while she clung to the railings and wrapped her thighs around me, relishing our shared shuddering release and the luxuriant sensation of her skirts pooling around us.

"Mmm." Her thighs loosened their grip on my hips, slid down slowly. "Oh, look! He did come."

I looked over my shoulder.

All the Night Court knew that Prince Imriel de la Courcel had won a pair of tokens to attend the Midwinter Masque. I'd begun to think he'd had no intention of using them, but here he was; he and his kinsman Mavros Shahrizai. Lord Mavros, wearing a sinister black mask with long twisted horns, wasted no time entering the fray. But Prince Imriel, he was different.

Daphne laughed, her breath tickling my ear. "Oh, look at him, Simon! What an irresistible disgrace! How delightful!"

It was a disgrace; a delightful disgrace. Imriel de la Courcel, Prince of the Blood, was clad in rags. Beggar's rags; barefoot and bare-legged. His face was bare, too, ink-black hair falling about it in deliberate tangles.

His mother had been a legendary traitor; and a legendary beauty.

It showed.

I felt hot and shoved my satyr's mask onto my brow. "I do believe I'll pay my respects to him."

"Oh, do you?" Daphne sounded amused.

I ignored her, working my way through the crowd. Revelry had given way to sheer license. Everywhere, adepts were coupling. I watched half a dozen of them importune Prince Imriel; watched him shake his head, refusing politely. He chose a perch atop an empty banquet table, sitting cross-legged in his ridiculous rags and gazing at the scene before him, his beautiful face distant and brooding.

In the midst of plenty, he seemed so alone.

I hopped up beside him, making myself comfortable. "Are you sad, highness?" I asked him. "You shouldn't be, not tonight."

He turned his deep gaze on me. His eyes were blue; Elua, they were blue! As dark and mysterious as twilight. Just looking at him, I found myself swallowing hard. "Not sad," Prince Imriel said, looking at me. His gaze lingered on the satyr's mask I'd pushed onto my tousled curls. "Thoughtful."

"Oh, well then!" I grinned at him like an idiot. "That's all right."

It drew an answering smile from him, quick and flickering, brightening those dark blue eyes. Oh, Elua! No doubt about it, he would be one of those patrons that made one fall hopelessly, desperately in love, willing to say or do anything just to coax another smile from those beautiful, brooding lips.

I was good at making people smile. Already, I began to lose myself in a daydream about what jests and antics I'd use to make him smile, make him laugh, when I realized he was excusing himself.

"...for your kindness. I fear this isn't the place for me tonight."

"Of course, your highness."

I watched him leave, sighing inwardly. Where in the world would anyone want to be on the Longest Night if not here? He was nursing a secret, our star-crossed Prince Imriel. No doubt about it.

I wondered what it was.

Like as not, I'd never know.

Copyright © 2006 by Jacqueline Carey