Don’t think about it right now.
As I step further into the ballroom, I look around, taking in the opulence. Marble pillars soar up from the floor, each one carved with elaborate designs. Fabric drapes the walls in crimson, gold, purple, and blue, while magnificent chandeliers cascade onto the crowd below.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my frayed nerves after what Jasce did. It would do me no good to dwell on it right now. Not if I’m going to have the presence of mind to get through tonight without tripping up and making a mistake. I cannot afford for anyone to know I’m not Lyra.
One.
Two.
Mentally, I shake my head and push aside the thought of counting. It reminds me of Jasce, and the last thing I want is to think about isthatman.
So, I take another deep breath and tilt my head back, allowing the music to calm me. The melody is soothing. The notes dance on the air. And the familiar thrumming of the loot is a balm to my soul.
Not everything in this world is ugly.
I brush my fingers against my elaborate cotehardie, feeling the silk, the soft whisper of the fabric against my skin. As I glance to my left, I spot my hovering guard. It seems Alban is a permeant fixture now.
As I navigate through the ballroom, I’m struck by the arrogance that emanates from the guests. It’s as if they’re all trying to outdo one another in terms of wealth, power, and prestige. They flaunt their expensive jewelry and their luxurious clothing. Even their masks are ostentatious, with feathers and jewels adorning them.
Fortunately, I was able to pick my simple, silver mask. It suits me.
I spot Jasce across the room, engaged in conversation with the man from the tavern, the one bound to the woman with silver magic. She stands next to him, her hair even brighter in the torchlight.
Jasce wears a fitted surcoat that accentuates his muscular frame. His gold mask, though simple, exudes elegance.
As much as I hate to admit it, he looks striking. The play of shadows and light only serves to enhance his commanding presence. However, his looks cannot change the undeniable fact that he’s a killer, a man who has stained his hands with blood.
He strides toward me, effortlessly cutting through the crowd with purpose. Each step seems deliberate, every movement calculated. Knots tighten in my chest as I scramble for an excuse to leave the room, my mind racing like a trapped animal desperate to escape the hunter’s snare.
“Lyra,” he says as he stops in front of me. “Dance with me.”
No!
I glance over his shoulder and find Lady Dinah and Lyra’s mother watching us.
“Very well.” I sigh and offer him my hand.
He takes my hand and guides me to the dance floor. The strains of music fill the air, its joyous melody at odds with my anger.
I follow him through the rhythm of the dance as my thoughts shift to my sisters. They’re the only people I have ever danced with. My heart lightens as I remember practicing the steps with them. Our laughter echoed through the halls as we dreamed of the day we would grace a grand ballroom like this one.
A nearby couple bumps into me, disrupting the flow of the dance. Instinctively, Jasce pulls me closer, and I stiffen as the hard lines of his body press against me. Desperation bubbles inside me as I think of stepping away and regaining control, but the dance continues, keeping me captive in this charade.
Jasce has all the power, and he knows it. I’m simply the pawn.Hispawn.
“Everyone in this room can feel the weight of your frown,” he says.
I look over his shoulders, catching the stares of his people. Their eyes stab through me like sharp knives. I shudder as I imagine them cutting my veneer away and seeing the truth.
Mytruth.
The truth of my terrible scars, the cruel reminder etched across the left side of my face. Those raised lines are my painful testament to the accident that has shaped my existence.
Jasce would thrust me away from his body if he saw what I really looked like. Not that I would mind him thrusting me away from him right now.
His words hum through my thoughts.“Everyone in this room can feel the weight of your frown, Lyra.”
“Should I hide my unhappiness?” I ask.
