“I didn’t touch him,” she said.
When I arrived at the Masquerade, a sweet, haunting melody carried through the ballroom. Violins swept around every man and woman, romancing their masks through pure aesthetic. The music seemed to pass through the air like wind or magic, and though I was terrified–a hundred people in a room with no identity–with the fear came liberty, too. I was a ghost within the game just like everyone else, and if not for the occasional fleet of knights passing through the area every several minutes,Iwould have forgotten I was the princess. All of my thoughts and worries of burning farmsteads were far away. Someone nearly collided with me; they said nothing to apologize; they didn’t bow, and I felt…free.
Still, as beautiful as the decorations were, as beautiful as the gowns and laughs, there was an almost tangible and blatant piece missing from the board, and no amount of fire dancers or acrobatic tricks that caught my attention could fill the vacancy. I longed for?—
“Evergreen, I see,” a voice sang into my ear. Sweet, like the first day of Spring.
“Cyrus?”I turned, abruptly, finding myself near-twisting into his arms. He caught my hand and pulled me in for dance. “What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Shh,”he said. His mask had horns. A devil. I laughed, then spoke quieter. “You can’t be here. Can you?”
He came forward, gliding us toward the instruments. “I can do whatever I want, Swan,” he said. “But on this occasion, I was invited, I’ll have you know.”
“What? Invited? Who invited you?” I asked.
“Who do you think?”
We twirled, and in a dramatically inverted dip, a man I couldn’t place passed by us. He gave a single glance at the display Cyrus had created, but nothing came of it and then my Sword righted me up again.
“The Prince, of course,” he told me. He inclined his head toward the passing figure.
“The Prince?” I worried.“He saw us!”
“Us?” Cyrus asked. “No. He saw me. The man he let into the party. And he saw me dancing with a woman. If he saw who the woman was, would he have just walked by?”
“What if he discovers me?” I asked. “What if he realizes?”
“He won’t,” he said. “Sameer and I come together every year. He’s never cared for who or what I spend my time doing.”
“Doing? That’s…crass,” I said.
“Aye.” He grinned wickedly. “You forget I’m a scoundrel.” His finger shot toward his mask. “Was this not obvious enough? And here I thought it was on the nose, like your swan.”
I blushed, touching my disguise. “He never asks you? Who you’ve been with?”
“Never,” he said.
“...I’m not sure that comforts me,” I confessed. “And what about me? Will he not come look for me?”
Cyrus squinted, sort of. He shrugged. “He might. Though I wouldn’t hold my breath.” He nodded once toward the Prince again, who had arrived beside a woman with light hair. “I’d wager that this evening is basically his free pass to fail at finding you.”
Sam ran his hand over the woman's gloved arm. He brushed his lips across her neck. I could nearly feel the intensity of her anticipation from where we stood. It was love. The womanlovedthe Prince. She loved him the way I loved my Willem.
“That’s Agatha,” I realized.
“Yes. And her sister is there,” Cyrus explained, swinging us to reveal the other’s location near the punch.
“I didn’t recognize them,” I said. “Not until I looked.”
He smirked. “Exactly.”
“I see,” I said. “Then we’re safe.”
“You are always safe with me,” he said but his gaze flickered sinisterly to counter the promise.
“You’re dressed as a devil," I said. “That mask suits you. You’re always so hyperaware of everything, everyone. The ever-charming Mr. Evergreen. How?”
He laughed. “Do you want the truth?”
