Page 17 of Broken Blades

Then another.

Then a truffle.

I glanced around—no one watching—and grabbed two more strawberries, cradling them in my palm like contraband.

A laugh bubbled up before I could stop it. If I'm going to represent the family, I deserve sugar.

The first strawberry burst sweet and tart against my tongue, chocolate melting instantly. I closed my eyes, letting the noise recede for just a moment.

This. This small indulgence.

Human.

Real.

Not performance. Not optics. Not the carefully calibrated version of myself I'd been projecting since we'd walked through those gates.

Just me, stealing chocolate in a corner, relieved no one was asking questions or measuring my worth in thirty-second intervals.

I bit into another strawberry and felt my shoulders drop an inch.

The relief lasted exactly as long as it took for footsteps to approach from behind. Close enough that I heard the slight scuff of expensive shoes against marble.

The glass doors gave under my palms, cool and smooth, and I pushed through into something quieter.

Night air hit my face—sharp, clean, nothing like the perfumed heat I'd left behind. I inhaled deeply, filling my lungs with winter.

The hedge garden stretched before me in geometric precision. Box hedges carved the space into corridors and alcoves, their dark leaves dusted with yesterday's snow that hadn't quite melted. Lanterns hung at intervals along the paths, their flames flickering behind glass, casting amber pools across white stone.

Behind me, the ballroom's noise became something distant. Muffled. A murmur instead of a roar.

I exhaled slowly, watching my breath fog. Finally. Alone.

My heels clicked against flagstone as I crossed to the nearest balustrade. Stone, waist-high, cold even through my gloves when I leaned against it. The gardens dropped away below—terraced beds sleeping under winter, fountains drained for the season, paths disappearing into shadow.

I pulled another chocolate from my palm and slipped it between my lips.

The sweetness bloomed instantly. Rich. Dark. Perfect.

My shoulders dropped another inch. This. This moment of stolen privacy where no one needed anything from me, where I wasn't being introduced or evaluated or⁠—

"Most people stick to champagne. You went straight for chocolate."

I froze mid-chew.

The voice came from somewhere behind me. Low. Dry. Threaded with amusement that felt deliberate rather than spontaneous.

My pulse kicked against my throat as I turned slowly.

A man stood near the glass doors I'd just exited, half-shadowed by the hedge wall. Black mask. Tailored tuxedo that fit like it had been made specifically for those shoulders. Hands loose at his sides. He didn't lean casually against the doorframe or hedge like someone who'd wandered out for air. He stood like he'd chosen this exact position. This exact moment. Like he owned the space.

I couldn't see his face fully—the mask concealed too much, and the lantern light carved shadows where features should be. I noticed… scars. Hidden, but there.

But I felt his gaze fixed directly on me.

I swallowed the chocolate, suddenly too aware of the sweetness coating my tongue. "I like chocolate."

The words came out steadier than I felt.