I'm pretty sure that the Nashai were just worried about low birth rates and this helps. Lots of babies come as a result of the Moon Masquerade. I'd laugh at anyone who says love does.
It's not that I don't believe in love. I've seen it—Lora and Varos, married nine years now and still disgustingly devoted to each other. Our parents, before they passed. Even some of my employees, the way they light up when their partners visit the bakery.
I just don't think it's for me.
I have my work. The bakeries, the markets, the endless stream of ledgers and suppliers and employees who need direction. I have my niece and nephew, who fill my townhouse with chaos twice a week and make me remember why I value silence. That's enough. It has to be.
But Lora worries. She's been worrying for years, ever since I turned thirty and showed no signs of courting anyone. She hates the idea of me alone in that townhouse, no one to check onme, no one to share meals with or talk to when the work gets overwhelming.
"Being lonely like this is no good for anyone," she'd said last month, her voice soft with concern. "You deserve more than just surviving, Lorenth. You deserve to live."
I'd brushed her off then, same as I always do. But she's persistent, my sister. Relentless. And now here I am, walking toward the city center with a mask in my hand and dread pooling in my gut.
The streets grow more crowded as we approach. Lanterns hang from every lamppost and window, glowing red like fresh wounds against the darkening sky. The scent hits me first—incense, thick and cloying, sweet with undertones of something floral I can't identify. It clings to the air, making my skin prickle with the unmistakable hum of magic.
Definitely a spell.
The city center opens before us, transformed into something out of a fever dream. Red silk drapes from the buildings, billowing in the evening breeze. Tables laden with food line the square—platters of roasted meat, bowls of glazed fruit, pastries dusted with sugar that sparkles in the lantern light. Wine flows freely from enormous casks, servers moving through the crowd with trays of crystal glasses filled with deep purple liquid.
And everywhere, people. Masked faces turned toward each other, laughter rising above the music that drifts from a stage at the far end of the square. Couples dance, their movements fluid and close, while others linger near the food tables or cluster in groups, talking and drinking.
The Nashai move through the crowd like ghosts, their white robes stark against the red and gold chaos. They carry small censers that trail more of that perfumed smoke, murmuring blessings as they pass. One of them approaches us, her faceserene as she takes in the festivities, and offers a tray with two glasses of wine.
Lora takes both before I can refuse.
"You don't need it," I say flatly. "You already have love."
She presses one glass into my hand anyway, her smile turning wicked. "Exactly. Which means you need the extra dose."
I glare at her, but she just laughs and takes a sip from her own glass. The Nashai moves on, trailing incense in her wake, and I resist the urge to pour the wine into the nearest planter.
The scent of the incense is stronger here, wrapping around me like invisible hands. Sweet and heady, with something underneath that makes my pulse quicken despite myself. I hate that I can feel it working, whatever spell they've woven into the air. My senses sharpen, sounds growing louder, colors more vivid. The red lanterns seem to pulse in time with the music, casting shifting shadows across the crowd.
"Isn't it beautiful?" Lora sighs, her gaze sweeping over the square with something close to reverence.
Beautiful isn't the word I'd use. Overwhelming, maybe. Chaotic. A sensory assault designed to strip away inhibitions and leave people vulnerable to whatever—or whoever—crosses their path.
I take a reluctant sip of the wine, and it burns on the way down, sweet and potent. Plum and something darker, earthy. My throat warms, heat spreading through my chest.
Fuck. That's strong.
Lora grins at me, clearly delighted by whatever expression crosses my face. "See? Not so bad."
"It's wine laced with Solace know what." I eye the glass warily. "Probably half the reason people think they've found their soulmate here."
"You're so cynical." She loops her arm through mine again, tugging me deeper into the crowd. "The Nashai wouldn't lie. Their magic is real, Lorenth. They've guided countless souls together."
"Or countless people into each other's beds for a night."
She swats my arm, but she's still smiling. "Just try. For me. Wear the mask, walk around, talk to someone. You don't have to fall in love tonight. Just… be open to the possibility."
I want to argue, to tell her this entire thing is a waste of time and I'd rather be home with my ledgers. But she's looking at me with those eyes—gold-ringed and earnest—and I'm reminded again that she's the only family I have left.
So I sigh, long and resigned, and slip the mask over my face.
The silk settles against my skin, cool and smooth. The world narrows slightly, my vision framed by the sharp edges of the bird's beak. I feel ridiculous.
"Perfect." Lora adjusts the tie at the back of my head, her fingers quick and efficient. "Now you look mysterious and brooding instead of just angry."
