Everyone was supposed to wear masks to the party, including but not limited to the servants. I was adorning a ridiculous mask fully covering my face and neck.
I was struggling with the costume. Out of the many things that I had to learn to do in this court, this was the most annoying part.
It had these little bells that clinked every time they moved. He didn't like to alert anyone of his every step, but it did teach him how to sneak up on people very well.
He looked beyond his mask into a mirror, seeing a smiling, grinning figure of colorful and bright colors, but inside it was nothing like that. He never felt more of a liar than when he was wearing that costume. But a liar, he must be.
He moved towards the back of the stage, checking with the other crewman. They were the only ones who weren't wearing masks, considering their job was being offstage and invisible and mine was the opposite.
Well, servants had the privilege of being furniture, I was a centerpiece. I was to be admired and adored, and sometimes they wanted to touch me back as much as I touched their heart.
Only as young as I am, no one would care if someone from high nobility started touching a slave boy with no protection to its name.
It wasn't my first performance to say the least even before I came to this country I was performing to small crowds. My father, as my father, wanted to cultivate me into his profession. My mother stored the other side of me and wanted to make it bloom and prosper under her watchful eye.
I didn't have much talent to my name, but I could say only one thing to my side: I knew how to catch people's attention, although a small tiny part of me knew that I hated it.
I was standing center stage, prepared to face the target of a thousand eyes on me, taking a steadying breath. I stared it down as the red curtain started to drift open.