Full Moon Masquerade
The full moon awakens something wild in me. By its pale white glow, I shed the crown and trappings of my royal station, and venture out into the woods behind the castle. I run, I dance, I howl until the wind carries my voice to the stars. And I bask in my freedom, however fleeting it may be.
One night, I venture out farther than usual—past the familiar boulders and pine trees of the royal hunting grounds, until the forest becomes strange and labyrinthine in the darkness. Until the ends of my nightgown are torn ragged by branches, my shins and calves speckled with lacerations. Until finally, I hear…music, far off in the distance. Faint, quivering, scarcely even there. But something about the sound calls to me. It wraps a phantom finger around my heartstrings, and pulls.
I follow the sound. Down a rocky ridge, past a babbling brook, through patches of shadow and moonlight. The music thickens, layers over itself, all swooping violins and staccato drumbeats, laced with an undercurrent of something else, something wild. The sound of wind through trees and pounding hoofbeats, and night creatures scrabbling through the undergrowth. Like the sound of all wild things, captured in a song.
I keep walking until I glimpse a flicker of light between the trees, tiny as a candle-flame at first. But as I draw closer, the light expands, turns golden, until its source becomes clear: a scattering of lanterns, encircling a courtyard. An ancient, crumbling courtyard, skeins of ivy blooming in the cracks between stones. Within the courtyard is a crowd of masquerade dancers, unlike any I’ve ever seen before. In lieu of the silks and gowns common in the royal ballroom, they wear garments of moss and ivy, river grass and autumn leaves. Some are crowned with antlers or horns. Others sport the wings of bats or barn owls. Still others have hooves, tails, talons, claws—they are human but also not, their animal features glistening and blurry around the edges, like pieces of a mirage.
I suck in a sharp breath, transfixed by the sight before me. The masqueraders twist and turn, laugh and howl. They are passion and ecstasy, a whirlwind of light and motion and melody. They are wild, free—everything I’m not, everything a princess can never be.
I’m not certain how long I’ve been standing there when one of the dancers approaches me. A young, dark-haired woman with the wings of a barn owl, and a mask carved of tree bark. The mask ends just below her nose, revealing lips curved in the smallest of smiles. There are secrets behind that smile. The promise of hidden pleasures, things waiting to be revealed.
“Princess,” the dancer says, eschewing my first name, because who does not? All my life, I have merely been princess. Dutiful daughter, figurehead and bargaining chip. The embodiment of royal prestige and propriety. “You’ve come.”
“I—” I cut off, my mind aswarm with questions: is this a dream? Is this real? Has this place been waiting for me all along? How do I find my way back to the castle, and do I want to?
But all that comes out is, “Who are you?”
The dancer’s smile widens. “Do you truly wish to know?”
I do. I have wanted things before, longed for moonlight and pleasure and the sound of my own voice echoing freely in these woods. But in this moment, there is nothing I want more than to see this young woman’s face.
The dancer inclines her head. In one swift movement, she pulls her mask away. And upon seeing her face…I gasp. Because her face is my own. Or at least, a version of my own. A version of me with wild eyes and wind-swept hair and cheeks flushed with life. A version of me who stands with her chin raised, nostrils flared; unashamed of her own wildness, defiant with her every breath. A version of me I’ve never seen in the mirror, but always longed to.
“Oh,” I whisper. “Oh.”
The dancer flashes her teeth. Her teeth, I realize, are razor-sharp, perfect for rending flesh and drawing blood. But the sight does not frighten me. Nothing about this young woman could possibly frighten me.
“Come.” She extends a hand, swift as the falling of a curtain. “Join us.”
I do. I take the young dancer by the hand, and step into the courtyard. The music swells, envelops me; surrounds me like a mist. I move to the rhythm of pounding hooves and flapping wings, flashing teeth and flickering talons. I’m so lost in the melody, I don’t stop to wonder why time seems frozen all of a sudden, the full moon locked in its place overhead. I don’t wonder when the dance will end, or if it ever will. I am passion and ecstasy, a whirlwind of light and motion and melody. Wild, and free—a princess no longer, but a creature of the night.
