The Courtly Masquerade

THE COURTLY MASQUERADE

by

Terry Spear

 

PUBLISHED BY:

Terry Spear

The Courtly Masquerade

Copyright © 2010 by Terry Spear

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

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CHAPTER 1

I, Arabella, Duchess of Foxmoor Castle currently, sat at my cousin’s bedside, still unable to fathom the princess’s words. “Princess Lynet, the physician has said you are too ill to travel to Crondor to meet Prince Renault. This I understand. But why am I to go in your place and pretend to be you?”

Lynet’s clear brown eyes and her peach-toned skin didn’t reveal any signs of sickness. Yet, if the king’s physician said my cousin was ill, she was ill.

Lynet coiled an auburn curl of hair around her finger. “We look nearly identical, dear cousin.”

The ‘dear cousin expression’ only came out when the spoiled rotten princess wanted something of me. Last year when we had turned sixteen, Lynet talked me into taking her place at the ball to dance with a forty-year-old Borasian prince that Lynet couldn’t stomach.

I soon found out why as the prince ate tons of garlic and onions, danced on my feet, and was a total bore. I’d had a devil of a time trying not breathe in his horrifically, horrible odorous breath. Not only that, but he was of the opinion, baths make one ill.

After the dance, I feared I’d have to burn my best ball gown, when his body odor permeated the velvet fabric.

Now what did dear Lynet have in mind exactly?

“Neither of us have met Prince Renault. What courtly gossip have you received that forces you to ask for my help in this matter?”

Lynet closed her eyes and sighed deeply. “So unwell, so unwell. I cannot speak of it.” She raised her hand to her forehead.

I squelched the irritation running in my blood and poured water into a brass goblet. “Would you like something to drink to ease your suffering?”

Lynet opened her eyes, smugly smiled, and shook her head. “You can only ease my suffering if you would take my place, dear cousin.”

Two dear cousins in one conversation. Now that was a world record.

I straightened my spine, not wanting to hear any more about this task, figuring this time it would be more detestable than the last.

Lynet fluttered her hand over her face, then rested it on her waist, covered by an ice blue velvet coverlet. “I’m only an inch taller than you, but otherwise our hair and eyes are the same color. And often we are mistaken for one another. Or at least we were until my father decided you would no longer wear my favorite colors.”