The iron was always colder in winter. It bit into my cheeks where rust had devoured the old leather of the mask. For twelve years, I had never seen my own face. I was only called the Shame of the House.
That evening, the Grand Hall shone under a thousand candles. The nobles laughed, drank spiced wine, and celebrated the Inheritance Marriage. The old Count had died, and the Countess was preparing her daughter, Lady Clara, to receive the ancestral ring in order to gain full control of the estate.
I had been brought from the servants’ quarters to serve as public humiliation.
— « Stand up straight, you filthy creature », spat a guard, striking the back of my legs with his spear.
I stumbled, my chains clashing against my torn ivory dress. The Countess, seated at the honor table in dark red velvet, smiled coldly.
— « Don’t let her fall. She would ruin the beauty of my daughter’s evening. »
The guests burst out laughing. They stared at the rusty iron mask that completely covered my head. Two small slits allowed me only to see.
A noble asked why I wore this mask.
— « She is a child of sin », replied the Countess. « The mask hides her cursed face from the eyes of honest people. »
I kept my eyes lowered. I knew neither my name nor my past. Only the weight of iron and the cruelty of the castle.
Then the old priest, Father Alistair, entered the hall with sacred oil and the ring marked with a howling wolf. While blessing the guests, he stopped in front of me.
His thumb brushed my neck, where the mask’s collar had slightly slipped.
Suddenly, he turned pale. Beneath the collar appeared a red mark in the shape of a wolf. The oil vial fell and shattered on the ground.
The entire hall froze. The priest stepped back, and what he said in a trembling voice shocked everyone. 😱😱😱
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— « This young girl… carries the blood of the true house. »
Silence crushed the Grand Hall like a frozen storm. The nobles looked at each other in fear, while the Countess turned pale under the candlelight.
— « You are delusional, old man », she spat harshly. « That creature is nothing but a cursed bastard. »
But Father Alistair slowly shook his head.
— « No… I would recognize that mark anywhere. The red wolf is the sacred seal of the Count’s first lineage. Only children of his true blood bear this mark at birth. »
A murmur of shock swept through the tables.
Lady Clara stepped back, clutching the ancestral ring tightly.
The old priest moved closer to me again, his eyes full of emotion.
— « Twelve years ago, the Count’s first wife gave birth to a daughter before dying mysteriously in the fire of the north tower. That night, the child disappeared… and the Countess announced that the baby was dead. »
My heart almost stopped.
Broken memories crossed my mind: a lullaby… a woman with golden hair… a voice saying my name.
The Countess suddenly screamed:
— « Guards! Seize her immediately! »
But no guard moved.
Because everyone was now looking at the mark on my neck… and finally understood the truth.
The girl hidden under the iron mask was not a shame.
She was the rightful heir of the estate.
