For the first time that night, he stood close enough that I could feel the heat of him, could smell the faint sweetness of brandy beneath something darker and familiar.
“Men like that,” he noted softly, his gaze sweeping my face, “come to these balls expecting one kind of woman.”
“And what kind is that?” I whispered, breath catching.
His smile was slight, shadowed and dangerous. “The kind who doesn’t know better.”
He tilted his head slightly. “You, however… you should know better.”
Before I could speak, a crowd of masks moved between us, forcing me to stagger back as the stranger was swallowed in the chaos.
I found myself backed against the refreshment table again. My hand reached automatically for another glass… only to find one already waiting.
Full.
Golden.
Untouched.
A ridiculous thought crossed my mind then, unbidden and absurd.
Did I leave this here before?
I lifted the flute and drank deeply.
The effect was almost immediate.
Warmth surged through me, not pleasant warmth, but a spreading heaviness. My thoughts seemed to lag behind my body, each one arriving a moment too late to be useful. The edges of the room stretched, then pulled sharply inward.
I blinked.
Once.
Twice.
The music faltered, skewed slightly out of time. The chandeliers pulsed faintly, as ifalive. I pressed my fingers to the table to steady myself and felt the wood thrum beneath my palm.
“You shouldn’t drink those so quickly,” he observed mildly, voice deep and rich.
I turned, my vision swimming, and froze as the stranger approached again.
My pulse thundered in my ears. I searched his features desperately, cataloguing familiar lines, old memories clawing their way to the surface. But, my heart refused to acknowledge what my mind was vehemently screaming at me.
Even beneath the mask, I recognized that face…
Or rather, I knew the memory of it. The shape of his jaw, the curl of his mouth, the way the shadows seemed to cling to him as if he commanded them.
It couldn’t be.
It simply couldn’t be.
Not after all these years.
My throat constricted. I stared harder, as if searching his features might unmake the hallucination. My mind scrambled wildly, trying to force reason upon a face I had not seen in years.
What cruel trick of the light was this? What terrible longing made my heart insist it recognizedhimin a stranger?
For surely that was all this was. Longing sharp enough to carve illusions.
