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Shadow Behind the Mask

Ep. 8 — Yellow Ribbon

Ep. 8 — Yellow Ribbon

Feb 03, 2026

But, still, she didn’t remember actually slipping into the dangerous part of her mind. She usually remembered that moment and what triggered it, even if she remembered nothing afterwards.


Disturbed, she turned to mentally checking herself for injuries. Her muscles were a little stiff, but otherwise she was fine. No burns, no bruises. Ma’Shite must’ve called in his crew of dedicated healers for her.


Again.


Her stomach twisted, and the vague sense of panic she’d been trying to push away increased.


Something tapped her arm, and she looked up, face twisted in distress, to find that Chloe had used one of her needles to get attention. Then her friend dropped it again so she could talk.


“You didn’t hurt anyone. You were just having nightmares.”


Instantly, all the pressure whooshed out of her body, and she hung her head in relief. With the relief, she finally breathed.


How long had she been holding her breath? Had she breathed at all since the panic set in?


Tears burned her eyes, and she turned her chin to hide them. She didn’t even dare wipe them, deciding it was easier to allow them to spill onto her other arm than risk a swipe in front of her watching friend.


Chloe resumed rocking, and for a second all the Amicus could hear was the creak, creak, creak of the chair and the chinking of the needles.


“Is the master home?”


She didn’t particularly care right then. She just wanted to distract Chloe. Unfortunately, she had to turn her head a little to watch Chloe’s hands, letting her hair fall into her face as a sort of shield.


“He’s home. Do you want me to fetch him?”


Did she?


“No.”


Chloe put her needles aside, moving slowly, like she was afraid of startling a wild dog. The idea made the Amicus feel even more wretched.


She could never be normal. Ever. She was a danger, even in her sleep.


The golden-haired girl waved her hand to get attention. “I’ll get you something to eat. Will you be alright?”


The Amicus nodded, glad that her friend was either tactful or just unobservant. Either way, Chloe said nothing about the Amicus’s distress as she carefully got up and left the room.


The Amicus released her arms and held out her hands, watching them shake as she forced herself to breathe slowly. Snippets of the dream came back, as well as details from the fire. She almost preferred to die there.


Almost.


Why were humans so stubborn about hanging on to life?


She laughed, wiped her eyes, and scooted off the bed.


By the time Chloe returned, the Amicus had started a bath and gathered fresh clothes. Chloe peeked into the bathroom, holding a tray. The Amicus looked over the tray and raised an eyebrow.


“You’re eating with me?”


Chloe smiled and nodded, putting the tray down on the sink. They ate there in the bathroom, the tub filling with water hot enough to coat every surface in condensation. It even caused the bread to go a little soggy. Neither girl noticed, continuing to eat and talk. Sometimes the Amicus even waved her hands around in a clumsy imitation of Chloe’s language.


They didn’t talk about the fire or about her nightmares.


Instead, Chloe told her about the antics of the children yesterday and her new assignment from the master, researching something from the slavery laws of two hundred years ago. 


He always gave her such research projects. The Amicus didn’t know why. It might be because Chloe was good at doing both the research and coming up with solutions to the associated problems.


It could also be because Chloe genuinely liked being in the huge Academy library, soaking in any and every bit of random information she could, and the master was just indulging her.


The second sounded more like it, but the first wasn’t out of the question either.


When the tub was filled, the Amicus turned off the water, letting it drip lazily as it ran out of the now-empty faucet.


As the Amicus looked at her friend—remembering her slow movements, her whistling, and her attempts to distract—she couldn’t help thinking about that man.


The one who hadn’t seen her scarification. Who’d joked with her, talked to her, and treated her like… well, like she was normal. Human. He hadn’t moved slowly in fear of startling her. He’d even flirted, though she suspected that that had been more his way than in earnestness.


The contrast made her feel cold inside.


She loved Chloe, she did. But even though Chloe was kind and thoughtful, and never ran from the Amicus, Chloe was… Chloe still didn’t see her. To the golden-haired beauty, the Amicus was a friend, but a dangerous one.


Not unlike a guard dog trained to bite under the right circumstances.


Her whole body suddenly flinched as a thought abruptly pounded into her head.


It’s Wednesday.


“Do you still have that dress?” The question blurted out of her before she realized she was going to ask.


Chloe, who’d just picked up her last roll from the breakfast tray, paused, forehead wrinkled. “What?” she asked, waving the roll around to half form the movement.


“The… yellow one. The one you made me last year?”


Even more confused, Chloe’s forehead wrinkled even further as she pursed her lips. “Yes?”


The Amicus shifted on the toilet seat, dropping her gaze to her toes. “Can I have it?”


She didn’t answer any questions. Instead, she finished her bath quickly, and with Chloe watching in confusion and concern, she pulled on the yellow dress. It was soft, softer than the clothes she normally wore, and it felt strange to have a breeze on her legs.


It took her a second to decide which knife from her collection to bring, finally choosing something small to hang from the belt, which she then strapped around her waist next to her coin pouch. Then she glanced at her reflection and winced.


If anything, the scarification on her cheek and neck stood out even more against the almost mustard of the dress.


She couldn’t go like that.


“What time is it?”


Frowning, Chloe put down her knitting to fish a pocketwatch from her basket. “10:13.”


The Amicus pressed her lips together and stared at her reflection, clenching her hands behind her back as despair sank her stomach. No, no, she absolutely couldn’t go. Not like this. Even as her shoulders began to droop, she saw Chloe’s reflection wave at her.


“Can I help?”


The Amicus barked a laugh. “Neither of us have makeup. And nothing can hide that.” She tapped her cheek bitterly.


“What are you trying to do?”


The Amicus clenched her hands, unconscious of the fact that her fingers were gripping the dress, and the gesture made her look like a vulnerable child. She didn’t want to tell Chloe. As much as she loved Chloe, it felt too… raw to tell anyone.


But did it matter? She couldn’t go after all.


It was despair that opened her up.


“Someone invited me out. At noon.”


Chloe sat up straighter, eyes wide. “Really?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “What’s the problem? If they invited you, they don’t mind.”


“That’s just it. He didn’t see this. He doesn’t know.”


Her friend’s mouth fell open into an O, and the Amicus turned away, shame burning her cheeks. She didn’t need to be reminded that the whole situation was stupid. Why did she think—


Chloe’s needles made a tinkling sound as she pushed them right off her lap, startling the Amicus into turning around. Her friend, usually reserved in every movement, didn’t hesitate to jump to her feet and rush to her side of the room, pulling open a drawer and rummaging around inside.


When she came back, carrying a yellow ribbon that was softer than the mustard the Amicus wore, Chloe waved her hands around with muted excitement.


“Some noble women don’t use makeup.”


“So?”


Chloe’s smile was bright. “They use a magic tool that’s designed to make them look like they have makeup on. They just put it on and done. Here.”


Bewildered, the Amicus didn’t stop Chloe from tying the ribbon to her wrist.


“Do that thing you do and make your own makeup tool.”


The Amicus grimaced. “That doesn’t change anything,” she argued. “I still can’t hide it.”


“Why?”


Taken aback, she stared at her friend. “Because I can be executed for hiding it,” she said, trying to soften the ‘duh’ note to her voice. But, tears! She shouldn’t have to spell it out.


Chloe rolled her eyes and stuck her chin out as she slowed her signs to deliberate movements. “Only if you’re caught.”


The Amicus’s mouth fell open, and she gaped at her friend. Then, slowly, she pulled her jaw back up and laughed, hope surging in her stomach again alongside the thrill of danger.


“I thought I was the reckless one!”


“No one looks at you directly anyway. It might startle someone to think ‘Amicus Nark’ has a lookalike, but no one is going to think it's you if you’re careful.”


The Amicus bit her lip and turned away to hide the sudden moisture in her eyes. Keeping her gaze fixed on the ribbon as she adjusted it, she reached out with her senses to find a viable source of mana.


Then she took a deep breath and looked into the mirror.


It took a second for her to form the spell in her mind, then she was able to carefully mold it over her face.


Honestly, she was surprised by how little she had to do. Like the woman in her memory—delusion, or whatever that was—she didn’t have an unpleasant face beneath the scars and scarification. Adding no makeup, she simply covered the bumps until, one by one, they vanished under her scrutiny.


And, strongly, at the back of her mind, she kept thinking that this had to make her unrecognizable. No one could know it was her. No one could connect this face to her… and at the same time, she didn’t want to change her face at all.


She liked this face in this way.


It made her feel sad… and happy at the same time.


“Wow.” Chloe’s hand movements were small, equivalent to a whisper. Then she was all business again. “Alright. Take it off until you get away from here. Wait until you’re at least three streets away. Oh, and take a cloak. If anyone sees you in that dress, you’ll stand out and make people wonder.”


The Amicus turned around and threw her arms around Chloe, burying her face in her friend’s shoulder.


“Thank you.”


She didn’t see the way her friend’s eyes saddened even as she gave the Amicus a return hug for a second, then pushed her back.


“Go meet your date.”


“Not a date.”


Taking Chloe’s advice, the Amicus took off the ribbon, covered herself, and left, completely unaware of the new spring and urgency to her steps. She was also unaware of Ma’Shite glancing out his office window at that moment, watching her go with his eyebrows scrunched.


“Tell Master Vellane he’s welcome to come before dinner,” he said, turning to the messenger who was waiting for his reply. “But I can’t guarantee she’ll be here. She seems to be busy for the moment.”


It was just past noon when Zanie finally spotted the tavern.


She’d waited until about a half hour ago to tie the ribbon back on. Now she stopped in yet another alley, afraid to step into the street,the  and unconsciously hugging herself with one arm while touching the handle of her blade with the other hand.


Serious doubts were storming through her.


Tanya’s god! What was she doing?


Did she really think she could just waltz right in there, pretending to be normal? Wouldn’t they be able to tell there was something wrong with her? She touched her cheek, able to still feel the scarification. Did that mean the spell wasn’t working?


No, no, she could feel the spell—


The daffodil!


Swearing to herself, she stepped into the street, looking up and down frantically for a flower cart. When she finally spotted one, it was at the other end of the street. Getting the daffodil was going to take her at least ten more minutes, if not fifteen, and she was already late.


Tears. This was a mistake. It really was a mistake.


“Miss, are you alright?”

kittykir1129
kittykir1129

Creator

Ok, this is not a 'cozy' story, but even though it has enough elements to be considered a 'dark fantasy,' I don't intend for it to become grimdark. Just sort of skimming that edge, you know? So, you're going to get scenes that have a cozy feel but with a lot of action in between. BTW, if you think the genres or tags I chose for it isn't quite right, I'd love to hear your feedback on it.

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Shadow Behind the Mask
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The city calls her the Amicus, the arena’s shadow—an unwanted, dangerous survivor people pretend not to see.

Zanie prefers it that way. Keeping her head down, hiding her name, avoiding the one wrong encounter that might get her executed.

So far, it's kept her alive.

She owes that life to her benefactor—a gentle, incorruptible idealist who somehow manages to be both soft-spoken and impossible to bully. His charity work is infuriating the aristocrats who profit from suffering, and when the ruling regent fails to strangle those reforms with laws, he turns to quieter, nastier methods.

But Zanie won’t let him destroy the only person who ever showed her mercy.

To stop him, she has to sabotage him without revealing that she was once his property. Worse, she has to stay ahead of his son—an apprentice investigator whose sharp instincts and inconvenient kindness both cut far too close to the face she can’t let him see.

As danger tightens around her, Zanie finds herself caught between a ruthless noble who unknowingly holds the proof she needs… and a man she has no business talking to, let alone laughing with or falling for.

If she’s unmasked, she dies.

If she does nothing, the only good man she’s ever met loses everything.

And in a city where the law shelters monsters, the arena’s shadow may have to stop hiding—and start haunting.

---

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13 episodes

Ep. 8 — Yellow Ribbon

Ep. 8 — Yellow Ribbon

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