Everyone was supposed to wear masks to the party, including but not limited to the servants. He was adorning a ridiculous mask fully covering my face and neck.
The boy 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, he was a centerpiece. To be admired and adored. Sometimes they wanted to touch him back as much as he touched their heart.
Only as young as the young man was, no one would care if someone from high nobility started touching a slave boy with no protection to its name.
It wasn't even his first performance to say the least. Even before he came to this country he was performing to small crowds. His father wanted to cultivate him into his profession. But His mother stored the other side of him and wanted to make it bloom and prosper under her watchful eye.
He didn't have much talent to his name, but he could say only one thing to his side: He knew how to catch people's attention, although a small tiny part of he knew that he hated it.
He was standing center stage, prepared to face the target of a thousand eyes on him, taking a steadying breath. He stared it down as the red curtain started to drift open.