Royal Mask Novels & Stories

Just masks. Porcelain. Obsidian. Crimson. Pearl. One of them rose his mask glinting like shattered gold. He lifted a hand. And slowly, invited her forward. She moved forward. The echo of her boots on the glass floor rang louder than any applause she’d ever heard, each step an accusation hurled at the masked tribunal surrounding her. The Founder in the gold-shattered mask extended a hand toward the central podium. A perfect circle, etched with runes and symbols Velvet’s real crest, hidden from all their branding.

They lace me into a corset so tight I can barely breathe. Then comes the dress. Royal blue. Heavy. Elegant. They lace it tight, molding me into a shape I barely recognize. I catch my reflection in the mirror; I see the girl beneath the dirt. Under the grime, I have the same hair as Victoria, the same height, the same eye color, only our faces betray the lie. A delicate, jeweled mask is placed over my eyes, gold and intricate. Beautiful. A lie. “The Alpha is waiting in the royal gardens,” one of the maids whispers, her voice trembling. “He is already displeased. Do not make him wait a second longer.”

The masked figure is standing beside someone else this time. Someone in fine clothes, half‑hidden by a heavy cloak. A gloved hand passing a pouch of wolfsbane to them, along with a sealed packet. The receiver turned just enough that moonlight glanced off something at their shoulder. Not a face. A sigil. The royal crest, again, embroidered on dark fabric. My heart hammered. My fingers dug into my knees until my nails ached. “Royal,” I rasped. “You saw a royal crest. On a cloak.”

"Do you take this woman to be your wife, to stand by her through thick and thin?" "I do," the man said, his voice muffled by the mask. The guests whispered in awe. Howard Larson, the Larson family's big shot, was so in love with me that he would not let a bad cold stop our big day. He did not want to disappoint me. "Wait a second." The man's eyes darted around, and his forehead was dotted with sweat. I smiled and asked, "Howard, you're looking a bit pale. Too busy with the wedding to remember your medicine?"

The intricate details of the gown, adorned with delicate lace and meticulous embroidery, wove a tapestry of beauty that left Selena feeling mesmerized. The maid rushed to the wardrobe to get the mask as she carefully extended her hand toward Selena, offering her a delicate, gold mask with a handle. As Selena graciously accepted the mask, her fingers instinctively gripped the handle, holding it firmly. A mischievous smile played on her lips as she admired the intricate details of the mask.

It was, before I went and ruined it, leading him on a wild goose chase across the roguelands. I pull the mask from the box. It looks like a piece of costume jewelry, like something I’d wear to a masquerade ball. Without my powers coursing through it, it looks and feels… cheap. Empty, and cold. ‘Carefully, Princess,’ Ryatt hisses into my mind. I put the mask on as fireworks crash overhead, turning the sky a vibrant, electric blue. Poppy was right about the celebration being a perfect distraction from what’s about to take place.

Standing behind his father, where everyone could see him clearly, his white eyes that had no eyelid were visible because the mask wasn't covering his eyes. All eyes were now on the three princes and then on the old king whose grey hair cascaded down his back and a golden crown sat on top of his head. His black royal robe was adorned with golden embroideries and trailed behind him on the white marble floor. Isabel had her eyes on the crown prince. She imagined standing next to the crown prince on the day of his coronation as King. He was so handsome and was beyond the way she had imagined him to be. Other ladies admired both the crown prince and the second prince. Some were even shameless abo

They wore a mask, so they wouldn’t attract attention while getting inside the location. Rieska wore a swirling black gown accented with silver, her dark mask sculpted like a raven, covering the upper half of her face. She let her hair flowed loosely with small braids on each side of her ear. And Zenus in his black armor and mask of a black panther. His twin swords were resting on his back. In comparison, Eleand chose a high collar black jacket with gold embroidery. His delicate gold mask carved a dragon’s head. He was confident in his faerie form minus the wings.

No, today they were staring because she was covered in royal attire. Her mask was custom made. It was so perfect that it felt Arthur had sat with the tailor and got it made specifically for her. It was so amazingly created that not even her eyelids were visible. Her lips and eyes everything was covered, and yet she could see perfectly through narrow but perfectly aligned slits. The material was so breathable that she was not suffocating and she was not feeling hot. The gloves were made of some rare silk that felt like her own skin. They too were extremely light and didn't bother her anyway.

Sandy said and they entered the royal hall. The hall was a spectacle, filled with werewolves dressed in stunning ball gowns and elegant suits. Masks covered their faces, wine glasses in hand as they engaged in lively conversation, the air filled with the sound of chandeliers sparkling above. The flag symbolizing royal blood hung proudly on the walls, and at the center of it all was an empty throne. A long table draped in gold and red tablecloths stretched along the side of the room, laden with platters of food and drinks, while servants in formal attire moved gracefully, offering trays of champagne and red wine.