August smiled. He always smiled when he knew he would have his way.

"If by fun you mean dangerous, then yes. It's more fun," Siles hissed through his teeth. But he didn't have time to argue, not when he had to figure out how to keep everyone safe despite August's meddling. It was supposed to be an unmasked ball, but safety was no matter to August. He only cared about the aesthetics, and aesthetically speaking, unmasked balls were boring. So, the ball would have masks, and their enemies could sweep through unnoticed.

Then there was the matter of the alchemist. Her absence weighed on his mind like a bad omen. The Southern Queen had to have kidnapped her. The timing aligned too perfectly with her visit. And yet, they didn't have enough proof to risk provoking the queen they were trying so hard to appease. They didn't want war, or at least August didn't want war. Siles took a deep breath to calm his nerves. It didn't work.

He left August in his quarters and rushed through the halls, pausing only to check that the shadows were still staffed by the soldiers he had placed there. The Queen and her people would not go unwatched during their celebrations. In fact, thanks to the danger that the masks presented, nobody would go unwatched. Once Siles had confirmed that the soldiers were attentive and in position, he moved on to the ballroom itself.

Siles stumbled when he entered the ballroom. Just a day earlier, maps had still hung from the windows and rows of tables had sat coated in dust from the bygone era when the Queen had used the room to plan her wars. Now, the black tiles glittered like a starry night sky while the great arching windows of the far wall revealed the pink and orange streaks of the setting sun. The splintered wooden desks had vanished, replaced by delicate marble tables that curved along the edge of the round room. The kitchen servants had already begun to place dishes on the tables, keeping the silver cloches in place. That was what Siles was here for.

Siles waved the kitchen servants over. They edged towards him and maintained a safe distance when they stopped. He bit back a smile. Every reminder that he could still intimidate without a mask brought him more relief than he was willing to admit.

"You are all going to play a very important role tonight," Siles said. The servants' bowed heads jerked up in surprise. He had their attention now. "We have reason to suspect that the Southern Queen intends to poison the King and the Council. I need every one of you to watch the food carefully tonight and immediately remove anything you believe has been contaminated. Understood?"

The servants bobbed their heads in unison like pigeons pecking for crumbs. Siles left them in the ballroom and swept back through the castle to August's quarters. Anxiety bubbled in his chest like a pot about to boil over. He had spent too much time away despite his rush. Especially with an enemy queen approaching, he couldn't afford to leave August unprotected. Siles didn't trust the day guards or night guards to truly protect his King.

"Back so soon?" August greeted him as he entered the room, hastily tucking his arms behind his back.

Siles stared at him. August looked different. He had always dressed well, but his suit for the masquerade outdid any prior concept of "well." He looked like the starlings that roosted on the castle walls. The suit's fabric was black velvet, but where the light hit it the black became purple and green while streaks of gold peppered the tailcoat like shooting stars. The dark green matched his eyes. Siles quickly looked down. He hadn't meant to make eye contact. He hadn't meant to stare.

Siles realized too late that he had forgotten to respond. "You look... nice," he stuttered. He quickly cleared his throat. It didn't matter how August looked. It just mattered that he was safe. "Every soldier is in position and I have warned the kitchen servants to keep an eye on the buffet. It would be safest if you don't eat from the buffet at all."

August's mouth moved voicelessly for a moment. He had paid more attention to Siles' first comment than his second, and Siles was regretting it already. When August finally spoke, his words came out in a rush, "I have a gift for you." He swept his arms forward and presented the item he had hidden behind his back.

It was Siles' mask, except it wasn't. The same old scars dented the metal from old battles, but those scattered scars had become part of an art piece. The pattern began as a series of diamond-shaped carvings at the base of the mask but developed into geometric feathers at its peak. Siles lifted the mask from August's hands and ran his fingers over the design.

"Do you like it?"

Siles hadn't received a gift in at least a decade. He had seen soldiers and magicians give each other gifts, but gifts required friends to give them. He hadn't had a friend before August. At least not since he was a kid. He didn't know how to respond. "It looks a lot better than it used to," he said.

August's face seemed to fall in slow motion, the edges of his smile creeping downward. "But do you like it?"

Siles slipped the mask over his face, readjusting to the loss of peripheral vision with a smile. He was anonymous again, even if it was just for the night. "It's fantastic."

"Hallelujah," August laughed. He wrapped Siles in a hug before Siles could think to step back. "You look nice too."

---

Something would go wrong. Something had to go wrong. The Southern Queen wouldn't have requested such an event if she weren't plotting something. Siles could at least tell which mask she hid behind. Power and arrogance tainted her every movement, especially when she danced. August didn't move like that. He danced like the embodiment of carefree joy, his tailcoat swishing through the air with every turn.

August was dancing with one of the magicians, though Siles didn't know which one. He did know that she wasn't a member of the Council, since he had already determined which masks the Councilmembers hid behind. August's hands rested on the small of her back and hers rested on his shoulders. She glanced in Siles' direction, then leaned against August as she whispered in his ear. Siles looked away. He was starting to feel ill.

He decided it was because he hadn't eaten in a while. Siles turned his gaze to the buffet tables, watching as a masquerader grabbed a section of cake. He hadn't seen any tampering and the servants hadn't reported any. It had to be safe. If it wasn't, he would be the first to sound the alarm. Siles plucked a cookie from the nearest tray and scanned the crowd as he ate.

The woman laughed into August's chest. Her dress resembled the feathers of a snowy owl and her mask displayed the same simple elegance. Siles brushed the crumbs off of his plain silver waistcoat. He felt out of place. He had never dressed up for Queen Samira's events and it had never bothered him then. But Samira wasn't August.

Siles sighed. He hated that he cared. August had complicated his life in more ways than he could have ever expected. But as he watched August dance, he knew that he wouldn't want anyone else as King.

The song ended with a dramatic sforzando, several hairs breaking free from the violinist's bow. Some of the masqueraders applauded the performers while the rest sought new partners. August followed the latter trend, bowing to the woman then turning towards Siles. He motioned for Siles to join him. Siles retreated a few steps. August didn't take the hint. He approached Siles and with a flourish proffered his hand.

"Dance with me."

Siles made eye contact with the faux eyes of the peacock feathers that crowned August's mask. "I cannot effectively protect you if I'm dancing with you." He had never danced with anyone before. In the town he had grown up in, there had been nobody worth dancing with. Maybe August was worth dancing with.

August smiled. "It'll be worth it," he said. Then without warning he took Siles' hand and pulled him into the crowd.

The next song began, the flute's melody trickling through the hum of conversation. Siles felt August's right hand move to the small of his back as the other took his left. He didn't know how to dance, but August knew how to guide him. The music slowed and they swayed. August's hands moved Siles closer.

They moved as one. Siles could smell August's lavender cologne. He felt the soft breeze from August's breath brush past his cheek. Siles' heart beat against his chest like a hummingbird's wings, but it wasn't from panic or fear. He liked dancing with him. He liked him.

August pulled away, his emerald eyes staring wide through the holes of the mask. "Did you mean to do that?"

Siles frowned. "Do what?"

August pulled him close again to whisper in his ear. "I can read your mind."

This time Siles took a step back. If August could read his mind, he could control him too. Maybe that was why he liked him. Maybe that was why they had danced. Siles fought the urge to flee. He still had to do his job. He still had to protect August.

"I swear I didn't try to do anything. I couldn't hear any of your thoughts until a few seconds ago." August panicked, grabbing Siles' hand. "Almost everybody's thoughts have become fuzzy to me, even the people I know are from our kingdom. Your magic was anti-magic, so whatever has made everyone else fuzzy must have taken away your barriers. It has to have something to do with the Southern Queen."

Siles stared at him for a moment. August could be lying. But his argument made sense. The Queen had clearly come to the masquerade with a plan, and her poison had blocked August's abilities in the past. Siles made up his mind. He pulled August out of the crowd and made a motion to the guards by the doors. One of them left to retrieve backup. He turned back to August. "Have you eaten anything?"

"Not since lunch."

"Then it has to be in the food. I didn't eat anything until recently, and, if you're telling the truth, you couldn't hear my thoughts until recently." Siles watched the door, waiting for the backup to arrive. He had known the evening would go awry, but he wished it wouldn't have happened when it did.

August gently took Siles' hands. "Relax. Everything will be fine."

At that point, everything went wrong. All at once, like a sforzando of combat, the mellow ballroom became a battlefield. Siles' backup guards burst through the doors, the Southern Queen's guests pulled knives from the ripples of their clothes, and the magicians began to panic. Siles saw their hands rise into the air, performing familiar gestures that would have devastated a normal battlefield, but nothing happened. Their magic didn't work. Despite all of Siles' efforts, the Southern Queen had to have poisoned the food.

But Siles didn't care if the magicians couldn't defend themselves. He hadn't come to the masquerade to protect the magicians; he had come to protect the King. The moment the battle began, he began to pull August towards the doors. Several of the Southern Queen's guests leapt into their path, but Siles had never relied on magic to fight. He flicked his knives out from their sheathes and aimed for arteries. He ended their lives in seconds, and in a few more seconds he and August made it outside the ballroom doors.

Siles knew the siege escape route by heart, though he had never had to use it before. He pulled August into one of the servants' halls, through a hidden door, and into the darkness of the castle walls. They found a wooden staircase there, lit by a single candle which Siles removed from its stand to light their path. The walls were so narrow that both of them had to turn sideways, but they still managed to tiptoe down the creaking planks. After a few minutes, the air grew cold and damp, and August paused.

"Where are we going?" he whispered.

"Outside the castle."

"Shouldn't we get less obvious clothes?" August removed his mask, but he looked no less royal without it.

Siles winced at the fear he saw in August's eyes. He wished he could go back in time, to the chess games and the card games of the days when their only fear had been boredom. He wished he had been willing to admit to himself, then, how he had felt. But no magician could reverse time. "This staircase will lead us to a tunnel which should lead us to the home of a loyal citizen. They will provide us with whatever we need."

August took his hand. Thus linked, they continued downward, the air growing colder with each step until the candle light reflected off of coarse rock instead of smooth stone. The tunnels were taller and wider than Siles had expected, and he hadn't expected a five-way crossroads. Five tunnels to choose from. He didn't know which was safest. All he knew was that the tunnels would lead to loyal citizens. The tunnels were at least one hundred years old, but ideally the descendants of the original five were just as faithful as their ancestors.

He chose the third tunnel for no reason other than the fact that it was in the middle. Beside him, August ran his hand along the stone wall and quickly retracted it, flicking slime off of his fingertips. Siles held the candle higher, as if its weak flame could pierce the tunnel's deep shadows. He couldn't see the tunnel's end, only the arch of the slime-coated ceiling above them and the mud path at their feet.

"Gross." August held his contaminated hand away from his body as he walked. "So these tunnels are one hundred years old? Who was ruler back then?"

Siles hadn't mentioned the tunnels' age out loud. He hoped the Southerners' poison would wear off soon, if it wore off at all. "I don't know. I didn't grow up here; I don't know your history."

August kicked a clump of mud. "You're easy to piss off. I'm guessing you've gone back to your original answer, then."

"Answer to what?" Siles squinted into the darkness, but it didn't help. The tunnel's end was beyond his sight, if it had an end at all.

"Whether you'll date me. You said no. And I'll bet if I asked again right now, you'd say it again."

The misery in his voice reminded Siles of that week of silence, the sound of August's sobs seeping through the cracks in the door as he stood sentry outside. Siles dragged his boots, listening to squelch of the mud beneath them. He didn't understand August, but he was starting to realize that August didn't understand him, either. "If I'm easy to piss off, you're easy to depress. I never said no."

August stopped in his tracks. "What?"

Siles kept walking, dropping August's hand when he didn't follow. "I didn't give you an answer in the first place. I just left."

August splashed through the mud to catch up. "But what does that mean?"

"Take a guess."

Siles thought of the word 'yes.' The way it would look in the castle calligrapher's intricate font, the swirling structure it adopted in August's writing, the way the 's' warped into a reversed 'z' in Siles' rigid print. It was a terrifying word, but with the Southerners' poison in his system, he didn't have to say it out loud.

"In that case, I take it back. You aren't easy to piss off, you're just confusing," August said.

Siles didn't respond, though he imagined a hand with its middle finger raised. August's smile beamed in the candlelight. He wrapped his arm around Siles' waist and they leaned against each other as they walked, their silhouettes becoming one in the muddy shadows.

Their peaceful silence didn't last long. They had reached the tunnel's end and strips of light illuminated the mud, cast down from a grate above them. A metal ladder led up to it. Siles tapped the bottom rungs with his knuckles, the sound ringing against the rock walls. The ladder stood sturdy despite its rusty coat. He looked up through the grate, but all he could see was a wooden ceiling.

Siles pulled August out of the light. "I'll go first. Stay in the shadows for now. If I shout, run back and wait in the castle walls. We have the advantage of numbers at the castle, so that battle is bound to end in our favor eventually."

August nodded. The joy had faded from his face. Siles didn't bother with an encouraging smile since he knew August could hear his true thoughts. He climbed the ladder and peered through the grate. An active fireplace burned on his left and a set of floral-pattern sofas sat on his right. The home had to belong to a wealthy magician if they were burning firewood after the snowmelt. Siles just hoped it wasn't one of the magicians August had managed to upset. He gently lifted the grate and pulled himself up into the room.

"Hello there."

Siles jerked his head towards the source of the voice, meeting the gaze of an elderly magician. She sipped tea from a mug. Steam fogged her wire glasses, but she didn't seem to notice. She smiled at Siles. Siles cautiously moved the grate back into place.

"State your name and rank," Siles commanded.

"Rosa LaVey, principal of the Hex Institute of Lower Education."

Siles remembered the name from the Councilmembers' conversations. Half of them had graduated from that school, while the other half had come from the Spell Institute on the northern side of the city. Teachers weren't supposed to have political allegiances, so they didn't typically protest against their kings. Hopefully principals followed the same school of thought.

"Why didn't you go to the masquerade?" Siles asked. Most of August's allies had been in attendance.

Rosa tapped her tea mug in thought. Her fingers were gnarled like those of the false witches of fairytales. "I'm a little old for that sort of thing. My dance partner left me for the stars many years ago."

Her answers seemed honest. Siles peered out the closest window and into each of the bordering rooms, but the streets and the rooms were empty except for Rosa. It looked safe. It had to be safe; he had no other option. He lifted the grate again and leaned down into the tunnel. August looked up at him with his eyebrows raised.

"I think it's safe."

August clambered up the ladder and took a deep breath of fresh air. "It smells like licorice tea."

"That's my bad," Rosa said. She waved to August with a wrinkled smile.

August's smile dropped. He stepped back onto the top rung of the ladder and quickly gave a reason for his fear: "She's fuzzy."

Siles unsheathed the knives from his sleeves. "Go back to the tunnel. I'll follow."