Pale silk, the color of moonlight. The sleeves were long and sheer, adorned with lace so intricate it looked like frost. It flowed over my body like water, ethereal and perfect.
Around my neck, I clasped the moonstone and ruby necklace Mama and Papa had given me on my sixteenth birthday. The stones caught the candlelight with a faint shimmer, cool and powerful. Matching earrings fastened to my ears like drops of frozen fire.
I styled my strawberry-blond hair into an elaborate updo, twisting ribbons and jeweled pins into the curls until they glittered like crowns.
Then came the final touch—a short, delicate veil draping lightly over my head, softening my gaze and deepening the illusion.
Fine leather shoes, dusted with gemstones, slipped onto my feet.
I stood before the mirror, heart thrumming.
What stared back was not the girl who poisoned her family?—
It was a woman cloaked in elegance, vengeance, and desire.
A siren draped in silk.
I grabbed a small velvet bag, slipped in a few essentials, and drew the strings closed.
Tonight, the masquerade awaited.
And I would arrive as no one—and everyone—all at once.
The clock ticked louder, like a countdown echoing through my skull. I paced the room, scanning for anything I might’ve forgotten. Time was slipping through my fingers like fine sand.
Then, at the last possible moment, I spotted the silver locket.
My mother had given it to me when I was a child. It was etched with a rose and still warm with old memories. I fastened it around my neck, a final, ironic touch of sentimentality.
The mask was next, delicate black lace embroidered with tiny seed pearls. Mammina had planned to wear it. Now, it was mine.
I held my breath as I eased open the bedroom door and stepped into the hallway. The house groaned with sickness, silence pressing in like a second skin.
This was it—my one shot at freedom.
I couldn’t risk Tomaso’s arrival drawing attention. I would meet him at the edge of the estate, beneath the cover of trees.
The stench of bile and sickness curled into my nose as I passed closed doors. I moved like a wraith, my shoes silent on the stone floor.
The front door let out a loud, traitorous squeal.
I froze.
Heart pounding. Lungs locked.
Nothing stirred.
I exhaled, then slipped outside, carefully closing the door behind me. The night air wrapped around me, cool and full of promise.
I crept past the fountain, its waters glittering under the moonlight, and hurried down the stone walkway. At the edge of the circular drive, I broke into a run, lifting my gown and letting my jeweled shoes kiss the earth with every determined stride.
Then I heard it.
The grinding of carriage wheels over gravel. The soft snort of sleek, black horses cut through the quiet.
I waved my arms, signaling the driver.
The carriage stopped. The door creaked open.
