My mouth watered. All week long, I’d had the luxury of eating meat, and I was starting to get used to it.
“Only eat or drink what I give you,” Drazhan whispered.
I gave him a stiff nod, my fingers tightening on his arm.
Stringed instruments hummed as we took our seats, and I noticed other females, humans I assumed, for they wore similar clothing to myself, which left plenty of skin exposed. The females wore masks—as did I—but they only covered our eyes. I glanced around the hall again. Were there no female Masters?
As I leaned toward Drazhan to ask, a pungent odor stung my nose. A hunched figure holding a staff lumbered up to us and placed a hand encased in a hard, gold glove on Drazhan’s shoulder. I stared at the glove, taking in the claws on its tips. I couldn’t say why, but a vision of horror filled my mind and my stomach twisted.
“Iscariot, I see you have arrived,” the Master said.
Drazhan kept his face forward, as though the hand clenching his shoulder did not bother him. “Alder. Is there something you want from me?”
“To ensure you will be in your place tonight,” Alder hissed. “I know how easily you get distracted.”
Drazhan grunted in response, and the masked face turned to me.
I stared, dread growing in my heart. For the first time, I found the golden masks rather sinister. It completely covered Alder’s face; even his eyes were hidden behind the gaping black slits of his mask.
I shifted in my seat, wondering if I’d covered my ears enough. What if the Masters discovered the truth about my bloodline?
“Well, you are quite lovely, aren’t you?” Alder said. “Welcome to High Terrin.”
A wave of nauseousness almost overpowered me, but I was supposed to be drugged and giddy with happiness. Forcing my lips into a smile, I nodded. “Thank you.”
Alder paused for a long moment before moving on, taking the overpowering stench with him.
I faced forward, heart pounding as I fisted my hands in my lap. A malevolent aura came from him, and it frightened me. It wasn’t until Drazhan dropped a hand into my lap that my trembling faded.
As the seats across from us filled, I dropped my voice to a whisper. “Who was that?”
Drazhan took a grape from the table, rolling it between his fingers before slipping it under his mask and into his mouth. The movement was effortless and revealed no hint of what might lie underneath. Was that how all the Masters ate?
“Alder is the leader of the brethren, the elite Masters. He takes care of those who have…disappointed the kingdom.”
“Why does he smell like that?”
“I’ve never caught him in the act, but my guess is that he drinks blood.”
I choked on my own spit, drawing attention as I coughed. Drazhan passed me a glass of water and I took a sip, my mind racing. The Masters drankblood? What other truths had Drazhan hidden from me? A bloom of red caught my eye, and I glanced at his shoulder. “You’re bleeding,” I rasped.
Drazhan jerked, glanced at his shoulder and cursed. “He’ll test my blood and find the truth. We have little time.”
A chime rang out, and silence fell over the hall. One of the Masters, dressed in a white robe, rose and spoke. He welcomed the Chosen and congratulated the Masters on another successful year, then asked that we raise a toast to the future of High Terrin.
When he finished, applause filled the hall. More masked Masters brought in food, setting a heaping plate in front of everyone, then adding extra trays to the tables.
Conversation erupted across the room, filling it with the joyous sound of celebration. The musicians struck up their instruments, and my fingers curled around a goblet of water. My throat was tight as questions whirled through my mind. Drazhan had said that the Masters were hideous, that they had to hide their true appearance. What could they possibly look like?
I studied the other women, watching their mannerisms. Their masks hid their eyes but left their nose and mouth exposed. They appeared happy, giddy, and likely drugged.
I furrowed my brow. What was so terrible that they couldn’t be in their natural state? Were the Masters that hideous?
Drazhan rose and touched my shoulder. “Let’s dance,” he said as he drew me to the dance floor.
16
Drazhan