Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale (48 page)

Cynthia helped her put it on now. The maid
secured it at the back with a hairpin while Altea sat in front of
her mirror.

“Oh my, you look clever,” Cynthia
commented.

Altea grinned. The nose of the mask swooped
down over her real nose and brought attention to her lips. The eye
holes fitted over her blue eyes perfectly.

She reached up and gently patted the pointy
ears. The effect thrilled her. Her eyes imbued the golden velvet
mask with life. The altered creature looking back at her sparkled
with optimism because Altea felt released from her normal cares.
She expected tonight to go as splendidly as her last social outing
with her stepfather had been disastrous.

“Altea,” Elias said, tapping on her door.
“Our carriage is here.”

“I’m ready,” she said.

“Take your shawl,” Cynthia advised.

“It’s hot,” Altea said.

“It’ll be cooler later,” the maid
persisted.

Altea grabbed the shawl and put it over an
arm.

“Have Jarmila make the boys say their
prayers,” Altea said. Cynthia nodded indulgently, unsurprised by
the parting command for the governess.

Out in the hall, Elias turned so she could
admire his new suit. His mask was simple and black but when paired
with his broad-brimmed hat it gave him the appearance of a
highwayman.

“You look completely different!” Altea
exclaimed.

“So do you,” he laughed. “That fox is rather
provocative. Has father seen it?”

The foxy face smirked. “What do you think?”
she said.

Elias rolled his eyes, realizing that Altea
would have kept it hidden until Martin had no choice but to accept
it.

The younger boys were at the bottom of the
stairs. They squealed with admiration upon seeing their older
siblings in masks.

“Enough nonsense!” Martin bellowed from his
study.

The children quieted slightly as Altea and
Elias headed toward the front door. Martin stepped out of his
study. He did not have a mask on yet.

“Altea, a last word with you,” he said.

Elias shot her look before heading out the
door. He clearly was hoping that she would take whatever advice his
father was about to dispense.

“Yes, Papa Fridrich,” she said sweetly upon
entering the study. She was in such a good mood, the prospect of a
preemptory lecture from her stepfather troubled her little.

“Let me have a look at you,” Martin said. His
eyes roved up and down her body. “What did this cost me?” he asked,
fingering the fabric of her sleeve.

“I didn’t look,” she said.

Her lack of caring annoyed him more than if
she had knowingly assaulted his purse with a precise figure.

“It’ll be worth it,” she said.

“You better make it so. I need to expand my
connections, so no mooning over some friendly simpleton. I’ll steer
you toward gentlemen that suit me,” he said.

Altea nodded, trying to be cooperative.
Outside the open window she could hear her brothers chattering
around the carriage. Yiri was commenting about the horses, and Erik
was bothering the driver with fantastic questions. Patrik was
trying to boss them both.

Martin stepped closer to Altea. He put a
finger against one of her fox ears to see how stiff it was. He
traced a finger down the edge of the mask. He noticed how Altea had
her mother’s eyes. She was the same height too and had not been
much older than this when he had taken her as his bride.

Martin missed the many comforts his wife had
given him during her dutiful life. His hand moved to Altea’s collar
bone and then slipped over her full breast and squeezed.

Altea gasped and struck away his hand. The
blow broke Martin’s daydream, but the connection had roused him
more than he had expected.

“Don’t touch me!” Altea hissed, stepping
back.

Martin caught her wrist in a fierce grip.
“I’ll touch you if I want to,” he said.

“You’re hurting me,” Altea said and tried to
twist free.

Martin released her. The bundle of flowers
tied to her wrist by a ribbon was crushed and the petals drifted to
the floor. A few stuck to Martin’s sweaty palm.

In shock, Altea fumbled for a reaction, but
Martin hustled her out the door before she could indulge in
hysterics. Hynek squinted at her with satisfied spite. With tears
welling, she endured the happy goodbyes from her little brothers.
Elias gave her a hand into the carriage. He noticed her altered
demeanor but could not guess at its cause.

Martin clambered into the carriage last. The
vehicle creaked when he sat down. He stared across the carriage at
his stepdaughter with a pensive glare.

The slap of leather reins got the horses
going and the carriage rolled forward. Martin slipped on his plain
black mask.

Old Town passed by in a blur for Altea. Only
once they were upon the Kamenny Most did she recover from her shock
a little. The river liberated the sky from the city, and she
admired the fluffy clouds splashed with lavender and gold as the
sun sank languidly. The heavy scent of the flowing water beckoned
her with freedom. The thought of jumping out of the carriage and
hurling herself into the water sprang into her wounded mind. She
did not even know how to swim, but she wished she could float away
to a new life even though Prague was the only place she knew. Such
an act would surely embarrass Martin for many years. Perhaps people
would even think he pushed her and the scandal would destroy his
career.

The bells of Saint Vitus rang the seventh
hour of the evening when the carriage rolled back onto land.
Construction projects along the river cluttered the scene, and the
street was full of foot traffic. The carriage slowed. Elias and
Martin casually remarked upon the handsome houses, and Martin
offered tidbits of information about each name he recognized on the
house signs.

When they reached the party, Altea commanded
herself to surmount her confusion. Attracting a husband was more
important than ever. She was no longer safe in Martin’s house. Her
stomach turned when she thought about what he might do.

Carriages were clogging the street in front
of Carmelita Hrabe’s house. Her home showed off the newest style of
architecture. Braziers were burning along the front. Servants in
matching tunics were attending the horses and ushering guests
inside.

Music was playing and the divine sound eased
her panic. She could enjoy herself here. She would figure out how
to handle Martin later, but for now she had to focus on the
splendid event or burst into tears.

Elias escorted her inside. Holding onto his
friendly arm soothed her a little. The interior was overwhelming.
So many artistic details demanded attention. The carved wood trim
around the doors amazed her. The artfully arranged flowers in
glazed vases astounded her. Such fragile short lived beauty
demanded that she pause to admire it.

A happy roar of conversations consumed her
stunned silence. All the masked faces were disorienting. When Elias
said something to her she nodded dumbly, unable to process his
comment.

They followed Martin, who worked his way
toward the buffet. He nibbled a little and inspected the board for
later reference, but then announced that they should get in the
receiving line for their esteemed hostess before they ate. He
allowed himself to get a glass of wine from a tray. Elias took a
drink as well, but Altea doubted that her stomach could handle
anything right now.

She finally started socializing while waiting
in the slow moving line. Both men and women introduced themselves
to her and asked to know who she was. Altea tried to gush with
pleasing conversation. The effort was a good distraction from the
fresh turmoil eviscerating her sense of bodily security.

“Altea Kardas,” she replied with a curtsy to
an older woman.

“Kardas? Where have I heard that name?” the
older woman wondered.

“My father was a knight as were his fathers
before him,” Altea said, wishing she still had her real father.
Memories of him were few and vague, but her sudden longing for him
was genuine.

“Oh, I’m sure he fought well for Bohemia,”
the lady said.

“Yes.”

“Well, it’s good to see her Ladyship inviting
some new women to her affairs. There’s been much too many men
around here,” the woman said and winked saucily.

Altea nodded politely, unsure of what the
lady was hinting at, except that it was somehow titillating.

When they finally reached Lady Carmelita,
Altea admired the elegant clothing of the small woman. She was
dressed in a deep red gown. Rhinestones covered her gaudy mask.
Small white feathers fringed the mask and set off her dark
hair.

Martin bowed to her. “May I express the
utmost pleasure to meet you, your Ladyship. Your invitation was a
surprise indeed,” he said.

“Welcome, Magistrate Fridrich. It pleases me
to meet you. I’ve been much to cliquish and have been missing out
on meeting new people. You’re such an important part of Prague’s
administration. The least I can do is offer some dinner and good
music as my way of thanking you for your service to the city,” she
said.

Her dreamy attitude nearly flustered Martin.
His days were filled with grumbling Aldermen and the pleas of
criminals. Receiving praise from an attractive woman truly stumped
his social skills.

He fumbled through an introduction of Elias
and then ushered Altea forward. She nudged him away with her elbow
when his hand touched her back.

“Please meet my stepdaughter Altea Kardas,”
Martin said.

Altea curtsied deeply. “Your Ladyship, I am
honored to be received by you,” she said.

“Welcome to my home, Altea Kardas,” Carmelita
said.

“If I may, your Ladyship, I’m not too shy to
mention that Altea is available for marriage,” Martin said.

Carmelita made note of the information. She
played her hand at matchmaking often enough, but she doubted that
this ravishing stepdaughter would be on the market long.

“You must have suitors fighting over you,”
Carmelita said. She stood up and flapped her fan at Martin. “Come,
Magistrate, you must tell me about what progress the town fathers
are making with the werewolf hunt. Let me show you to the buffet. I
can tell when a man is famished.”

“I could eat a little,” Martin said.

Carmelita swatted his belly with her fan. “A
little?” she teased.

Martin chuckled awkwardly.

Carmelita spun toward Altea and Elias. “Go
off and have fun you two. I’ll see that your father stays out of
trouble,” she said.

“Thank you!” Elias beamed and bowed
again.

Thunderstruck by the good fortune of
Carmelita’s interference, Altea simply gaped as the woman herded
her stepfather away.

“Do you think any girls here will dance with
me?” Elias whispered to his sister.

“Of course. Just ask them,” Altea said. “But
we have to split up so we don’t seem like a couple.”

Elias nodded and they headed in opposite
directions. The sudden rush of freedom was breathtaking for Altea.
She worked her way around the dance floor until she could see the
musicians. The singer’s voice was entrancing. He plucked his harp
with an angel’s love. She quickly became lost in looking at him. He
sometimes looked at her while his voice soared. Wonderful fantasies
about him singing just to her erased the tension from her body.
When he finished his song, everyone clapped enthusiastically.

“A dance, fair fox?” a man inquired.

Altea turned and looked at a young man. His
mask made joining with a stranger seem completely appropriate.

“Yes,” she said, delighted not to have to ask
for Martin’s permission.

They exchanged pleasant small talk while they
danced. Altea relaxed in his polite company. The dance required
that they rotate among other partners, and Altea soon learned eight
other names that she expected to forget.

She danced through three songs and finally
encountered Elias. He was having a grand time, and judging from his
swagger, drinking as much as dancing.

When Altea was out of breath, she retreated
to the musicians. A servant kindly offered her a drink and she took
it this time. She glanced around for Martin and thankfully did not
spot him.

She returned her attention to the performers.
They played with such joyful passion, and she could share in their
happiness simply by listening.

Everyone applauded again when they finished a
song. In the quiet before they started another song, a
superstitious prickle ran up Altea’s spine. She shivered despite
the flush of her cheeks.

Something brushed her leg. Looking down, she
gasped. A small brown and white dog was pawing her skirt. She froze
with disbelieving recognition. The dog scooted away among the
people until she could not see him, but then she saw the man across
the ballroom looking at her. He stood on the staircase landing,
alone. He wore a wolf mask and a glossy wolf fur was draped over
his shoulders. He gestured with his head down the hall on the
second level.

She did not want to believe what she saw, but
there was no dismissing it when he swung his head again. He wanted
her to come upstairs.

No, she thought but the command was not her
true wish. It was only something she was supposed to do.

He walked along the landing and looked back
once more before disappearing into the upstairs hall. Somehow he
seemed to have no doubt that she would come to him.

I will, she thought and her feet took her to
the stairs.

One of the men she had danced with tried to
speak to her when she mounted the steps but she ignored him. She
quickened her steps, eager to enter forbidden territory. She needed
something new. She hated everything old and familiar. Why fear the
advances of some stranger when she faced worse terror at home?