He exhaled slowly, forcing a reassuring smile. “It’s nothing,” he said, though the tightness in his chest betrayed him.
The carriage slowed, and Lucius hesitated as the driver climbed down to open the door. The distant hum of music and laughter beckoned them forward.
Lucius helped Tavia down from the carriage, his hand lingering on hers. The gown’s bustle shifted as she moved, the butterfly wings glimmering under the light of the mansion’s lanterns. She looked otherworldly, an enchantress stepping out of a fairytale.
They approached the grand entrance, where guests of all shapes and sizes streamed in. Fae with iridescent wings, humans in glittering gowns and sharp suits, even orcs clad in intricately woven costumes—it was a convergence of worlds, all united under the spell of the masquerade.
At the gate, a butler in a crisp black uniform took their tickets, bowing slightly as he welcomed them. Lucius arm remained looped around Tavia’s, his presence protective and commanding.
Inside, the air was rich with scents—roses from the floral arrangements mingled with the savory aroma of roasted meats and delicate pastries carried by bustling servants. An orchestra played in the distance, the melody soft and inviting yet carrying a lively undertone that hinted at the revelry to come.
Lucius plucked two glasses of champagne from a passing tray, the chilled crystal cool against his fingertips. He handed one to Tavia, who accepted itwith a small smile and promptly took a long sip. The effervescent bubbles danced on her tongue, and she laughed quietly as she set the empty flute on another tray.
Lucius led her deeper into the ballroom, the gleaming marble floor reflecting the glittering chandeliers above. Every detail of the space was opulent, from the gilded columns to the delicate floral arrangements cascading down from the ceiling.
He caught the awe in Tavia’s expression as her gaze flitted from costume to costume, taking in the vibrant array of colors and textures. Her smile was radiant, a beacon among the crowd, and he wanted to be the source of her joy.
“Shall we dance?” he asked, his voice low as he extended his hand to her.
She nodded, and he guided her onto the dance floor, weaving through the throng of masked guests. The music swelled around them, a waltz with sweeping strings and a steady rhythm that seemed to resonate in his chest. He placed one hand gently on her waist, feeling the subtle warmth of her through the soft silk of her gown. His other hand clasped hers, her skin cool and delicate against his palm.
They began to move, their steps in perfect sync with the music and each other as if they were made to dance together.
Tavia’s gown shimmered with every turn, the fabric catching the golden glow of the room.
Her laughter rang out as he spun her, a sound so pure and joyful it sent a strange ache through him. He couldn’t take his gaze off her, the way her lips curved in delight, the way her eyes sparkled behind her butterfly mask.
Around them, other dancers blurred into a swirl of color, but his world narrowed to just the two of them.
As the tempo quickened, their steps followed suit, moving with an effortless grace that defied explanation. The folds of her gown flared out as she twirled, the glittering fabric catching and scattering the light like a thousand tiny stars. Lucius’s grip on her waist tightened slightly, guiding her through the faster movements, his fingers brushing the intricate embroidery of her dress.
Tavia’s head tilted back as she laughed again, her voice harmonizing with the lively notes of the orchestra. He could feel the subtle vibration of her delight through their clasped hands, the connectionbetween them electric and unspoken.
When the music slowed, so did they, their movements turning into a gentle sway. Lucius pulled her closer, the warmth of her body filling the space between them. His heart was a steady drumbeat, louder than the fading melody, louder than the soft hum of voices around them.
Her smile softened as she gazed up at him, her eyes shining through the delicate filigree of her mask. The moment stretched, fragile and infinite, as if the world had held its breath just for them.
Lucius leaned down, their foreheads brushing as his breath mingled with hers. The faint scent of roses and vanilla enveloped him, pulling him further under her spell.
Tavia’s hand tightened in his, her touch grounding him.
“Tell, me pretty dove. Why did you choose to rob that caravan?” He wanted to kiss her, to close the final gap between them, but he hesitated.
Her lips parted slightly, her breathing soft and unsteady. “I told you why.”
“Mmmm, but is that the real reason?” He could feel the faint tremor that passed through her.
Their bodies swayed together, heat blazing between them, their breaths mingled and tinged with anticipation and ecstasy.
“I don’t know,” she finally said. “It was just . . . a feeling.”
Lucius’s fingers gripped her waist, the need to know her more intimately clouding every rational thought, but he had promised not to kiss her.
Yet, he wished for all the stars in the sky that she would break that promise.
And then, as though drawn by an invisible force, Tavia stepped up on her toes and pressed her lips to his.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
