The feast was loud. Too loud. The wine sloshed against the rim of my clay cup, dark and sweet and tasting of iron. I drank it down. It burned a hole in my throat. I kept my eyes on the floorboards. They were worn smooth by centuries of feet. My feet. I had walked them until the wood wore thin. I am a ghost in a body that no longer fits. Or perhaps the body is the ghost. It does not matter. The candlelight flickered. Shadows danced on the stone walls. I watched them. They were my friends now. They did not judge. They did not look away.

The music stopped. A hush fell over the hall. It was heavy. It pressed against my ears. Lord Ashworth stood. He was tall. Too tall. He wore velvet the color of dried blood. His smile was wide. It did not reach his eyes. His eyes were cold. They were the eyes of a hawk looking for a mouse. He looked at me. I felt the gaze on my skin. It tingled. It itched. I pulled my collar up. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to be dust. I wanted to be nothing.

"Sir Thomas," he said. His voice was smooth. Like oil on water. "You have served well."

I bowed. My back ached. I bowed lower. "My lord."

My voice was small. It barely carried. He laughed. A short, sharp bark. The other lords laughed with him. The sound was cruel. It cut into the air. I felt the shame rise in my chest. It was hot. It was heavy. I swallowed it down. I had to. I had to survive.

Ashworth was not just a lord. He was a monster. He had taken my name. He had taken my land. He had taken my wife. She was here. In the corner. She wore white. It was wrong. It should have been black. She was not a widow. She was a prisoner. Her eyes were wide. They were full of tears. But she did not cry. She stood still. She was stone. I looked at her. I did not know if she looked back. I did not dare.

The feast continued. We ate. We drank. We laughed. I did not laugh. I did not eat. I held my cup. I watched the shadows. They moved. They shifted. They looked like faces. They looked like hands. They reached for me. I pulled back. My hand shook. The wine spilled. It ran over my fingers. It dripped onto the floor. Dark drops. Like blood.

Ashworth saw it. He stopped laughing. He looked at my cup. He looked at me. "Spill it," he said. "Clean it up."

I wiped it. I used my sleeve. The velvet was ruined. I did not care. I was a thing. A tool. A beast. I was nothing. The shame grew. It filled my lungs. I could not breathe. I gasped. The air was thick. It tasted of sweat and fear. I looked at the floor. The stain was gone. But the memory remained. It was there. In the wood. In the stone. In my bones.

The night grew late. The candles burned low. The shadows grew long. They stretched across the room. They touched my feet. They climbed my legs. I felt them. I felt their cold touch. I shivered. I pulled my cloak tighter. It was thin. It offered no warmth. I was cold. I was always cold. Inside. Deep down. It was a cold that fire could not touch.

Ashworth stood again. The hall went silent. The silence was a weapon. It cut deep. He held a mask. It was gold. It was intricate. It had a smile. It was a mask of joy. Of peace. Of purity. He held it up. The light caught it. It glowed. It was beautiful. It was terrible.

"Who will wear this?" he asked.

No one moved. No one spoke. The air was still. I felt my heart beat. Thump. Thump. Thump. It was loud. I could hear it in my ears. I could hear it in my head. It was a drum. A war drum. I looked at the mask. I looked at Ashworth. I looked at my wife. She was trembling. Her hands were clasped tight. Her knuckles were white.

"I will," I said.

The words left my mouth before I could stop them. They hung in the air. They were solid. They were heavy. Ashworth blinked. He looked surprised. Then he smiled. The real smile. The one that showed his teeth. They were white. They were sharp.

"Brave," he said. "Foolish. But brave."

He walked toward me. The crowd parted. They made way for him. I stood. My legs were weak. They shook. I did not care. I reached out for the mask. My fingers brushed the gold. It was warm. It was alive. I put it on.

The world changed. The colors bled. The sounds faded. I could only see the mask. I could only feel the weight of it. It was heavy. It pressed on my face. It dug into my skin. I could not breathe. I could not see. I could only feel.

Ashworth clapped. The sound was thunderous. The lords clapped. The ladies clapped. They laughed. They cheered. They threw flowers. They threw coins. They threw curses. I did not hear them. I did not see them. I was inside the mask. I was inside the gold. I was inside the lie.

I walked to the center of the room. I bowed. They bowed back. I was the king now. I was the lord. I was the master. I was the monster. I was all of them. I was none of them. I was no one.

The party raged on. We danced. We sang. We drank. I did not dance. I did not sing. I did not drink. I stood still. I held the mask. I felt it burn. It was getting hotter. It was getting heavier. It was crushing me.

My wife walked past me. She did not stop. She did not look. She walked to the window. She looked out. The moon was full. It was bright. It was cold. She touched the glass. Her fingers trailed down. She turned. She looked at me. Her eyes were wet. She was crying. She was smiling. It was a sad smile. A broken smile.

She mouthed two words. I could not hear them. But I knew them. I knew them in my bones. I knew them in my blood.

*Forgive me.*

I wanted to scream. I wanted to break the mask. I wanted to tear it off. I wanted to run. I wanted to die. But I could not. I was bound. I was trapped. I was the prisoner. I was the guilty one.

The night ended. The dawn came. The light was gray. It was cold. It washed over the room. The colors faded. The shadows retreated. The lords left. The ladies left. The servants cleaned up the mess. They swept the floor. They wiped the tables. They poured out the wine.

I stayed. I sat on the throne. It was cold. It was hard. I held the mask. It was still on my face. It was part of me now. It was my skin. It was my bone.

Ashworth came to me. He was alone. He stood before me. He looked at me. He did not smile. His face was blank. He was tired. He was old. He looked small.

"It is over," he said.

His voice was quiet. It was soft. It was gentle.

I nodded. I could not speak. My throat was closed. My mouth was shut. The mask was fused. I could not remove it.

He reached out. He touched the mask. His hand was cold. He patted it. Gently. Like a father patting a child.

"You were a good man," he said. "Once."

He turned. He walked away. He did not look back. The doors closed. The sound was final. A heavy thud. A finality.

I was alone. The hall was empty. The silence was absolute. It was loud. It was deafening. I looked at my hands. They were shaking. I looked at the mask. I saw my reflection. It was gold. It was smiling. It was beautiful. It was a lie.

I tried to take it off. I pulled. I tugged. It would not move. It was stuck. It was part of me. I was the mask. I was the lie. I was the monster.

I fell to my knees. The stone was cold. It bit into my skin. I cried. The tears ran down. They mixed with the gold. They ran down the chin. They dripped onto the floor. Dark drops. Like blood.

I was a fool. I was a coward. I was a traitor. I had betrayed myself. I had betrayed my soul. I had betrayed my love.

The sun rose. It filled the room. It was bright. It was warm. It was cruel. It illuminated the dust. It illuminated the debris. It illuminated my shame.

I stood up. My legs were stiff. My back was bent. I walked to the door. I opened it. The light hit me. It was blinding. I stepped out.

The city was waking up. The bells rang. The carts rolled. The people walked. They did not see me. They did not see the mask. They saw a lord. They saw a power. They bowed. They smiled. They feared me.

I walked. I walked fast. I walked hard. I walked until my feet bled. I walked until my lungs burned. I walked until the city was behind me. I walked into the forest.

The trees were tall. They were dark. They were silent. I walked deeper. The path disappeared. The ground was soft. The leaves were wet. I walked. I walked.

I found a stream. It was clear. It was cold. I knelt. I looked at my reflection. The gold was bright. The smile was wide. It was mocking. It was cruel.

I picked up a rock. It was heavy. It was sharp. I looked at the mask. I looked at the rock. I raised my hand.

I could do it. I could break it. I could free myself. I could die.

I hesitated. I remembered my wife. I remembered her eyes. I remembered her smile. I remembered her words.

*Forgive me.*

I dropped the rock. It hit the water. A splash. A ripple. It faded.

I could not do it. I was not brave enough. I was not strong enough. I was too weak. I was too scared.

I put the rock down. I stood up. I turned away from the stream. I walked back. I walked back to the city. I walked back to the hall. I walked back to the throne.

I sat down. I waited. I waited for the end. I waited for the dawn. I waited for the light.

The light came. It was gray. It was cold. It was final.

I closed my eyes. I opened them. I was still there. I was still me. I was still the mask.

I smiled. It was a real smile. It was a sad smile. It was a broken smile.

It was the only truth I had left.