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Shadow Behind the Mask

Ep. 9 — The Daffodil

Ep. 9 — The Daffodil

Feb 05, 2026

She flinched and looked up, unaware of the look of discomfort and fear in her eyes. The woman watched her in concern, holding her son’s hand as he looked around, totally uninterested in what was going on.


“Are you alright?” the woman repeated.


The Amicus stared at her, nonplussed. This woman spoke to her. She didn’t just speak, she looked directly into the Amicus’s eyes without fear or flinching. Real concern creased her brow as she stepped forward and lowered her voice.


“Are you in some sort of trouble, miss?”


A laugh gurgled up the Amicus’s throat, and she shook her head. “No. No, I-I’m meeting someone. I was afraid I didn’t look— I should just leave, right?”


Unable to articulate herself, unable to lie, and bewildered by the warm attention, she indicated her body and face with a sweep of her hand. 


The woman’s face broke out in a smile as she chuckled. “Well! That’s less dire than I was thinking.” The Amicus flinched when the woman put a hand gently on the Amicus’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, dear. You look beautiful.”


Still smiling and chuckling to herself, the woman kept going—leaving the Amicus to gape after her, overwhelmed by the interaction.


Taking a deep breath, she almost ran to get the flower.


The tavern owner had thoughtfully opened the upper windows, letting in a breeze and reducing the number of lanterns needed to light the darker corners. At this time of day, there were fewer drinkers and more people laughing over bowls of stew.


The smell was heavenly, but it didn’t sit well with the Amicus’s twisting stomach.


Doubts again assailed her, but she still marveled at the looks she was attracting.


They weren’t frightened or hostile. Most people just glanced at her. Some people let their eyes linger in scrutiny, especially men, though she couldn’t quite read their expressions.


Self-consciously, she tugged the dress a little and made her way to one of the darker corners, where a lantern was still required for comfortable lighting. Part of her hoped that the table and the out-of-the-way spot would hide her from the man she was meeting.


The other part was terrified that he wasn’t coming at all.


She pulled the daffodil out from behind her ear and played with it nervously on the tabletop. Normally she’d play with her knife instead, but decided that that was too honest, too close to the truth.


Terrified that the ribbon had slipped, she checked it twice in the space of ten seconds.


Tears! She wasn’t trying to impress him. She just wanted to get through this encounter without giving herself away. Was she doing anything else that might oust her? Dung! Should she have covered up the scar on her arm? It was faint but—


Why the tears was she here?!


“Well, hello, my beautiful savior. I wasn’t sure you’d make it.”


She jumped like she’d been prodded with a hot iron as a man slid in across from her, grinning like a fool and with a softening around his eyes.


Tanya’s god, I’m in trouble.


Not only was this a new experience, but why did he have to be gorgeous, too?!


“I’m sorry I’m late,” she blurted, panicking. “I-I forgot the flower, and—” Unable to continue, she held it up, letting it visually explain everything.


He laughed, turned, and shouted across the room, “Mary! Bring us two bowls, will you?”


“What do I get in return?” the waitress shot back, not looking up as she expertly slid drinks and bowls across another table. 


“Aren’t your wages enough?”


She stood up straight, one hand on a hip while the other held her now-empty tray to her side. “As I recall, you still owe me a bottle of that peach wine you’re so fond of.”


“And a night on the town?” someone chortled, causing Mary and many others to laugh.


One man, done with his meal nearby, stood and grinned. “You going to introduce your friend, Eblin? She’s pretty.”


“Get back to work,” Eblin said lazily, waving the newcomer off. “She’s not interested in your ugly mug.”


“I resent that,” the man said cheerfully, making a rude gesture at Eblin.


“Ok, then, I think your wife would object.”


The Amicus looked around, dazed by the banter and the quick appearance of food in front of her and Eblin. Did everyone in this room know him? She couldn’t eat yet, but with the attention diverted from being directly on her, she felt her shoulders relax a little.


Eblin expertly turned the crowd back to their own business and brought his attention back to her.


“Sorry,” he apologized lightly, picking up his tankard first. “Maybe I should have suggested a different place. Or time. I didn’t realize you weren’t comfortable with crowds.”


She hunched and smiled weakly. “It’s fine. Are you… drinking?”


The tankard was almost to his lips when he hesitated. “Do you not approve?” His tone was light, even teasing, but there was a seriousness to the question that she didn’t know how to read.


“It’s not that…”


Tears! Why couldn’t she finish a sentence?


He chuckled, relaxed, and took a sip. Then he put it down and said, “The Lion doesn’t serve anything strong enough to send you home halfway off your feet.” He winked. “At least, not until nightfall.”


“Oh.”


She looked down, fidgeting her fingers in her dress. That’s when she became conscious of what she was doing. Flushing, she looked up and reached for her spoon, only to pause and stare at the food, aghast. She couldn’t eat, she couldn’t fidget. What the tears was she supposed to do?!


Her panic made her unaware that Eblin was carefully studying her, reading her reactions with a keen eye.


What she was aware of was when he suddenly pushed a plate of bread in her direction.


“You can help me with something,” he said seriously. “Everyone who comes here is absolutely convinced the bread is the best—”


He was interrupted by nearby hoots of agreement, letting her know that the room was still paying attention, even though they weren’t looking at her as much. She shrank in her seat.


Eblin went on, ignoring the interruption. “So, take a bite. Is it better than anything you’ve ever had?”


Nervously, she reached out.


When she bit into it, she blinked in confusion. “It’s sweet,” she declared, before she could stop herself.


“And?”


She chewed for a second longer, taking the task seriously and almost forgetting the people peeking at her.


She’d never been exposed to much by way of fabulous food, but Ma’Shite didn’t keep a bad kitchen, either. However, he and his housekeeper tended to be utilitarian about it, so she rarely had anything sweet.


Honey, butter, soft. It was very soft.


“If I’m comparing to a cake, it’s not much,” she said finally. “But it is better than rye.”


The room in general chuckled, and Eblin beamed.


Lowering his voice, he gave her a thumbs up, “No wrong answers,” he murmured. “Nice. Diplomatic. You’re good at this.”


She flushed and took another bite to avoid answering, unaware of the small smile that now quirked her lips.


“What do you say we inhale this and go outside? It’s a beautiful day, and it would be a shame to waste it.”


After her nod, Eblin talked. He told her stories he heard from some wall guards two weeks ago, about a fox that had abandoned its babies just outside the wall. “The little pests have become their informal guests,” he said with a laugh. “Apparently the captain keeps telling them to get rid of the beasts, but they keep finding ways back inside the guard house.”


When they were done, she noticed that Eblin took her right side as they walked out, putting himself between her and the bulk of the room. She wasn’t sure why he did that, but it made her feel less exposed during the trip.


Once outside, she let out a long breath, her shoulders sagging.


“Now, which way?” Playfully, Eblin put his hands on his hips and turned first one direction and then the other. “That way is a park. It’s full of nobles, though, so we’d have to either be discreet to avoid attention or be as loud as possible to attract their sneers.”


“Why?” she blurted, confused.


He winked cheekily. “Well, if they’re scorning us, then they’ll take themselves away from us, instead of the other way around.”


“Oh.”


“But in that direction,” he turned the other way again, “there are lots of windows. We can look at what new gizmos, doodads, and frillies are around. With the added bonus that we might accidentally run someone over, but no one will pay attention to us.”


Without hesitation, she pointed toward the shops.


“Good idea. If you don’t mind, I need to pick something up while we’re at it.”


“I don’t mind.”


“Very well. May I?”


He offered an arm, and she stared at it blankly, then transferred the look to his face.


Correctly reading her expression, he lowered his voice in a gentle tease, “Even if you’re not courting, if a gentleman doesn’t offer to escort you, then he’s not worth your attention.”


Escort? Bewildered, but intrigued, she hesitantly accepted his arm, glad when he deftly repositioned her awkward hold so that she didn’t have to figure it out.


“Do you escort a lot of women?” she asked, trying to match his tone but coming off stiff instead.


He grimaced and held a finger to his lips. “I probably shouldn’t admit to that.”


She rolled her eyes. “Please. I can tell I’m not the first. And probably not the last.”


Eblin threw back his head in a laugh, making the Amicus’s lips twitch in response to his surprise. Maybe she could do this after all.


“Miss Zanie, you may not be the first or the last, but you are by far the most interesting.”



***

The Amicus: 15 Years Old


They wanted to know where she got the idea. Maybe they thought someone had been whispering to her. Whatever they believed, she didn’t explain, and her cheeks hurt from being hit multiple times.


Idiots. They didn’t think she’d notice on her own—but she had.


Their training was tight and specific. How to break a spine, slit a throat, or cut a hamstring, but you never, ever actually did it during training. Not even with blunt weapons that would leave broken bones or cause deep bruising instead of irreparable damage. Even that forced them to either heal you or keep you out of the next competition.


Losing money was unacceptable.


She smiled grimly to herself. Who would have thought Tom’s lessons in anatomy, and half-remembered movements from their lighter practice bouts, would ever be useful here?


All she had to do was put herself where the next strike would cross the line into something they couldn’t ignore.


They were forced to intervene.


It bought her a pause, sparing her body from a thousand extra bruises and broken bones.


It also kept her from accidentally revealing her strange, uncontrolled magic. That mistake would have sent her straight to the meal room. Useless to them as a mage, they would have fed her body to their beloved trolls.


She sat in her corner of the exercise room, legs pulled to her chest, the chain around her ankle jingling softly every time she shifted. Any moment now, they would drag her back out for another practice bout.


She was so sick of it.


Tanya’s God, do you pick and choose when to make yourself useful? Please. She closed her eyes. Get me out of here.


“Nark, get up!”


Wearily, she stood, uncurling herself from around her knees. This time, the weapon thrown at her was a staff that was a little too long for her, but complaining would do nothing but earn her a beating.


It was only after they unlocked her chain and she shuffled to the middle of the room that she realized they had visitors.


Ugh.


She recognized half of them. Every one of them had ownership rights to at least one of the slaves, and they came periodically to check their property. They never openly claimed which slave was theirs, but it wasn’t hard to guess. Who’d pay that much attention to a slave they had no stakes in?


One of them smelled like death, a remnant of the smell that hung in various chambers within the building. Fortunately, he stood across the room, otherwise she wouldn’t have been able to take that tears awful smell.


That man was her ‘master.’


She knew it without being told. This was the man who kept her here and profited from her suffering.

kittykir1129
kittykir1129

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Shadow Behind the Mask
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. 9 — The Daffodil

Ep. 9 — The Daffodil

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