The Fortunata Court is a burst of activity today, and it's all for me. The pressure of today's events hangs over my head like a dark cloud, and I'm so nervous it makes me sweat. I have been seventeen for two days now, and today is the day I become an official consort of the court.
Outside my chamber is a girl with dark hair and even darker eyes. She smiles when she sees me. "Are you ready, Raffaele?"
I take a deep breath before admitting, "Not really, no." We walk down the long hallways of the court in silence. Well, she walks in silence. I can feel the energy of the others around me, the energy of the potential clients coming to see the court's newest offer. The pressure of it all threatens to overwhelm me. To distract myself, I observe my companion. Her name is Martinella, and she is five years older than I am. Although she wasn't the one to guide me while I was a consort-in-training, I went to her for a lot of advice about the life of a consort. You could almost say she is my confidante, but of course there are things I can never tell her.
Like how I can feel her pulsating energy beside me.
Finally, we reach the silk veil that will lead us to the main lounging chamber where my masquerade will be held. "Remember," she says, "this is your moment. Enjoy it."
The chamber is swarming with people—all of them here for me. As I walk in, I can sense people's gazes on me, watching me, observing me. It's as if everyone in Estenzia turned up to my debut as an official consort.
"There you are!" The court's madam rushes up to me. "Come, come." Her hand seizes around mine and I am dragged up to the low, raised circular platform in the center of the chamber with thick scarlet cushions for guests to sit on. She faces the crowd and they fall silent. "Welcome to the Fortunata Court, my guests," she says, "and, to the debut masquerade of our newest official consort, Raffaele Laurent Bessette." The applause I am greeted with is almost deafening. The energy in the room surges; everyone is excited to meet me and is hopeful to win the bid for this night with me. I force the biggest smile I can manage. I'm thankful that no one in the room can sense my energy the way I can sense theirs. If they could, they'd know how much of a nervous wreck I am.
The court's madam releases me to mingle with my potential clients as she begins to accept bids. As I wander amongst the crowd of clients and consorts, a curvy woman in a gold dress and mask to match grabs my hand and pulls me for a dance. "I'm bidding for you, Raffaele," she says in a whisper. I can see her blue eyes through the mask, and they sparkle with excitement. I smile politely at her, suppressing the urge to pull away.
"I should make my bid," she says after a while, releasing me and sauntering over to the court's madam. I take a deep breath, grateful for the break. I don't know how much more of this I can take.
Suddenly, I feel a surprisingly strong presence in the building. There’s someone here who has the same energy with me, someone with powers.
Now on high alert, I scan the main lounging chamber, the masked figures swirling around me. Finally, I pinpoint the energy to be coming from a person in the farthest corner of the room. A manservant stands not too far away from a figure I cannot see, so I observe instead the threads of energy around the person like a halo, weaving together and apart. I never knew I could see that.
The manservant leans closer to the halo of energy to listen to a whispered request from his master. He nods once and heads for the court's madam. The person is bidding for me.
I am asked by several more people to dance, and they all smile while commenting on how beautiful I am. Their energy swirls around them, and now that I focus I can see threads of their energy. They are not as magnificent as that of the figure in the shadows, but I can see them calling to me nevertheless.
The woman in gold returns to dance with me once more, and this time I focus on the threads of her energy. If I can see her energy, I wonder if I can manipulate her?
As she talks to me, I look closely at the threads. One of them, I notice, is connected to her heart. "Madam," I say.
I tug it.
She stops talking and stares directly into my eyes. "Yes?" she whispers softly.
"I think you look quite lovely tonight."
She blushes and mutters "thank you" before I decide to release my hold on her heartstring, literally. She continues her talking from before, but she is a little more quiet and more conscious of my presence.
When she leaves me to check on the status of her bid, I feel more powerful than I have ever been. I can make people love me. One pull of their energy threads and I will be loved. It is a power not to be abused, I know that, but I feel satisfied in knowing how far my power goes.
The rest of the night, I try my power on the various people who request a dance with me. Ladies and noblemen alike are susceptible to my power. By the end of the night, the gathered clients are staring at me with softness in their eyes. Whether they had wanted to or not, they love me.
“Raffaele.” The court’s madam comes up to me. “You should go to your bedchamber and prepare for tonight. The bidding is almost over.” I bow my head at her command and return to my chambers. The hallway is too quiet, my footsteps echoing loudly in my ears.
Truthfully, I am terrified for tonight. The person who pays my virgin price will be the person I entertain tonight. The thought makes me want to throw up. I never chose the life of a consort, yet here I am, waiting for one of the richest people of the city to buy me for the night. The older consorts have told me stories of their debut nights, and I have seen a lot of them emerge from their chambers with their energy significantly dampened.
It has been a few minutes since I returned. I sit up straighter when I feel the strong energy I sensed from the masquerade growing stronger. The door opens to reveal a silver-masked figure and Martinella. "Have a pleasant night," she says, smiling at me before leaving to attend to a client of her own.
"So," I say, bringing forth my most charming smile. "How would you like to be entertained tonight?"
"I don't want to be entertained," the figure by my door says—by their voice I can tell they are a boy, perhaps not much younger than myself. "Not like that." He crosses the room over to me, and when he passes under the window, the moonlight illuminates his unnaturally blood red hair.
He sits next to me on my bed "I just want to talk," he says. "I noticed you taking a great interest in me earlier."
I don't know what to say, so I remain silent.
"Let me show you something." He holds his hand out and suddenly it is enveloped in flames.
I turn to him in surprise. The light from the fire illuminates his dark eyes, and I can feel the heat from where I sit. "Does that not hurt?" I ask.
The boy shakes his head. The flames crackle and flicker, casting shadows on my walls. "So you one of those rare malfettos that posess powers that do not belong in this world," I say; it's more of a statement than a question.
He nods this time. "They call us Young Elites now; I am the one known as the Reaper."
Reaper. I have heard whispered murmurs of this name in the halls of the Fortunata Court, rumours of a malfetto who can conjure fire out of thin air just as he has illustrated, who once burned a man from the inside out. I never thought those rumours could ever have a possibility of being real.
He extinguishes the fire by curling his hand into a fist. "Now, tell me about yourself," he says conversationally. It is an innocent question, but I know I have to answer him carefully. One wrong move, and he may kill me.
"I'm able to sense other people," I reply truthfully. "I can feel their energy and understand what they feel."
"Is that why you knew about my presence when no one should have?"
I nod.
"You could be of use to me," the Reaper contemplates. "I'm going to start a group of Young Elites dedicated to find others like us before the Inquisition Axis does. I assume you've heard about the malfetto killings?"
I nod. How could I not have? Almost every time I look down at Estenzia from my balcony, I can see packs of Inquisitors dragging out those scarred by the blood fever, shrieking and crying about how they've done nothing wrong.
And then the Inquisitors kill them.
Not every malfetto has powers like me or the Reaper, but the monarchs suppose they can never be too careful. They've encouraged the killing of malfettos on the premise that they are demons and bringers of ill fortune.
"I want to find other Elites, and perhaps together we can dethrone the monarchs and allow malfettos to be revered, much like in the Skylands."
I look at him curiously. The Reaper has spoken with vehemence, and his energy has grown darker.
"You will have many clients as a consort, am I correct?" he continues. "I saw how many people came to your debut tonight."
"Yes, that is true."
"My group will need loyal patrons to sustain us. With your powers of persuasion and this—" he waves a hand to gesture about my bedchamber. "—intimate setting, perhaps you could make political alliances for me."
It is dangerous to say no to people like the Reaper, so I nod. Part of my mind protests this, thinking about all the people I will have to entertain in order to gain enough patrons for our new group of Young Elites. I suppress this thought and smile at the Reaper. "I can do that, yes."
We continue to talk for the remaining hours of the night, discussing this new group of Young Elites we eventually settle on naming the Dagger Society. My role will be to find malfettos like us, recruiting them and testing their power to determine if they can help our cause. I haven't felt this excited for something ever since I became a consort-in-training. It is a dangerous thing, discussing our powers and the slowly growing Dagger Society out in the open like this, but so far trouble hasn't sought us out.
Almost too soon, our session together ends. The Reaper gets up and brings his hood over his head, covering his blood-red hair. "Thank you for your time," he says politely. "I will see you again soon. Remember what you must do until then."
"Of course." I bow my head respectfully, but something nags me at the corner of my mind. It's not until he almost reaches the door that I call out, "Wait." The Reaper turns around to face me, the moonlight making his silver mask appear to be glowing. "If we're going to work together, I should at least know your name. Your real one."
"Of course." He takes off his mask and I stifle the gasp that threatens to escape my lips. The face that stares back at me is one that everyone knows. "Y–your Royal Highness," I stutter, quickly bowing my head.
A faint smile appears on his face. "I will be in touch soon, Raffaele," the former Crown Prince of Kennetra, Enzo Valenciano, says to me. He puts his mask back on and, with a swirl of his dark cloak, he is gone just as the first morning rays creep their way into my chambers.