Royal Mask Novels & Stories

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?"

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.

"But to intercede when I think it necessary. So I have to suggest we move out. We will use the northern exit to avoid the crowd that's saying goodbye to Queen Edda. He also wanted me to give you this." He dug into the pocket in his saddle and pulled out a black bandana-like mask, handing it to Prince Marcellus. He was dressed in the uniform the guards inside the castle used, sans the metal armor. If he didn't open his eyes so much or speak, from afar at least, he looked like a very pale human. "Ha, good thinking on his part," he said, examining the mask and placing it over his mouth. "Nothing to do about my eyes, I guess." He shrugged and waved at the other soldiers to approach.

His eyes held mine as he lowered his lips to my hand and- “Your Highness!” Damien looked up towards the gate where four men stood in all black attires and black masks, except for the red label of an eagle carrying a sword in its beak that was embroidered on the left hand side of their suit jacket. The King’s label. I looked back at Damien sharply as he rose from the stairs taking me with him. He let go of my hand as one of the men came forward and handed him a black mask with red markings. “Your Highness?” I asked, stunned at the sudden realization. “You’re the King?”

she declared. "I-- I am?" He stuttered. She blinked. Well, she hadn't meant to say that out loud but it was already out now, she might as well just go on. The mood felt light-hearted and safe. How things quickly change. "Yes, your Majesty. You shouldn't hide this wonderful face behind a mask. In fact, putting this," she pointed at his face, he still had that shocked look on, "behind this," she quickly pointed at his golden mask that was still in his hand, "should be a crime, but you are the King, so I presume that is why you have been able to get away with it for so long."

Each attendee is directed to select a mask from the counters, setting the stage for an evening of mystery and style. Emma, in harmony with her dress, opts for a captivating red mask adorned with a long black feather cascading down its left side. The mask, veiling almost her entire face, adds an intriguing aura, yet her distinctive emerald eyes remain an unmistakable identifier for those attempting to distinguish her amidst the masked crowd.

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.