Isabeau’s lips curve into the smile that once made me make foolish choices, not unlike tonight. “I am not the Hunter, though, and it ishisidentity we mask to hide,” she says.
“I am aware.”
“So are you masked becauseyouare the Hunter? Hiding in a dress?” Isabeau laughs at her own mockery. “Or do you suppose it’s him?” She nods toward a man who is even older than our parents. “Or that’s him with the full mask and a dress? I danced with that one, and they didn’t speak at all. Were they hiding their identity?”
“You are still absurd, Isabeau.” I wince then as the duke twirls me a bit too forcefully. My injured side is not suited for any vigorous movement. “And if I told you that Iamthe Hunter ...”
Isabeau laughs. “Sure. Then I shall confess my secret. I am the queen’s new jester. With a mask, I suppose we can all embrace pretense.”
My heart beats harder in the brief attempt at speaking truth about my identity, but she reacted with laughter. That is not how I think she’ll respond when eventually I tell her. We dance without speaking for several moments before I say, “I hope the Dowager Duchess Maudite is faring well.”
“You speak as if you know her.”
“Have you not met everyone at these balls?” I hastily counter, not wanting to lie too much to Isabeau.
Isabeau stares at me. “Tell me your name.”
I deflect with another question. “What were you hunting when you came into the ball?”
“A woman. I saw her defeat a faery tonight in the park.” Isabeau shrugs as the music pauses. She bows to me again. “Thank you for the dance, Miss Papillon.”
“What did you call me?”
She trails a hand over my butterfly mask. “Butterfly.Le papillon. Unless you’d like to tell me your actual name?”
“No.” The crowd on the floor shifts as dancers trade partners. “I hopeyouare faring well in your mourning.”
“I adored my father.” Her heart is in her words now. “I cannot understand how the world continues without him in it.”
“You are lucky to have had such a man as your sire,” I whisper.
She pauses, staring into my eyes even as the floor around us commences the next dance.
“I would like to talk to you more,” Isabeau says, trying to put her hand on my side again and extending her other arm as if to resume the position of the dance. “Would you dance with me again so we can continue to talk?”
“No. I don’t typically dance at all.” I step back, out of her reach, not sure how much more I can manage. My side aches too much, and being this close to her makes my heart ache almost as surely. I need to escape.
Isabeau offers her arm. “I feel fortunate to have had your accord, then. Would you care to walk? I could show you the Royal Library.”
“Oh?”
“My aunt allows me a key in case I need it.” Her voice hardens. “Youhaveheard that I am cursed now? It is a recent thing, but ...”
“I have heard.”
“Gossip moves quickly,” Isabeau says bitterly as she leads me away from the crowd and into a side passageway. Our footsteps are muffled in the thick rugs underfoot, and the sounds of the musicians at the ball are barely audible. The result is the illusion that we are the only people in the palace.
“You are no less for the curse,” I assure her as we walk. “Disabilities and limits aren’t the sum of a person.”
“You speak as if you have a limit of your own.”
I debate confessing. Could I talk to her about my destiny? I have long wished I could discuss it with Father. How did he tell Mother that he would be a Hunter? When? Could I tell Isabeau that Iamgoing to be the Hunter and that I am afraid it destines me to loneliness?
“Butterfly?”
We’ve stopped walking, and we now stand in the hallway outside the library. The red and gold seats on either side of the oversize doorway look darker without any of the sconces lit. I want so much from her that I choke on my words. I manage to whisper, “I don’t want to share any of my secrets, Maudite.”
She gives me such a heated look that I feel uncommonly dangerous. “Have you decided if you would like a lover who would not disappoint you?”
