Aorn

You are the king's jester, always hiding your face behind a harlequin mask. No one but he has ever seen your face. No one even knows whether you are a woman or a man. You are his most trusted confidant: you see everything, you hear everything, and you will never betray him.

The king sat in a high chair by the large window. His gaze slid lazily over the pages of his book, but a barely noticeable wrinkle between his brows betrayed his tension.

A jester sat on the carpet at his feet. The patterns of his mask glittered in the dim light, obscuring his expression. His cap lay nearby; it was of no use now.

The king played with the jester's long locks of hair with his fingers. Silence filled the library, broken only by the rustling of pages.

“I know,” said the king, without taking his eyes off the book, “that there is a traitor among my advisers.”