Flor stumbled as he began to walk again, gesturing until Clematis indicated a preference in direction. Clematis chose one without looking, then realized they were on their way to a balcony.
Flor spoke when they were both outside, the night air shockingly cold after the heat of the ballroom. The balcony was spacious, and lined with potted trees and flowers. “There are people who have thought to get close to me in order to get close to David.”
Clematis stiffened.
Flor continued to lead him away from the crowd. “I don’t think those people would have been waiting for me in a room they could not have expected me to enter. But, if they were, I am not even sure that I would mind.”
Clematis started to tug his hand away but then Flor turned. There wasn’t enough light to see his expression and guess what he was thinking.
“You know who I am, but I don’t know you.” Flor was soft. “You are… too lovely to be called handsome. I can tell that even with half of your face hidden. The line of your jaw, your glowing skin, your mouth… The sparkles on your throat are a temptation, and I am envious of whoever painted them on you. You do not speak like a noble, but you do not speak like anyone else, either. Your coat fits you well but your shoes do not. You would dance better without them, I think.”
Clematis was spellbound at the idea of being painted with sparkles and dancing barefoot for Flor. He could not speak above a whisper. “My lord dressed me.”
“Your lord?” Flor echoed grumpily, then pushed out a breath. “’Lord’ in what manner?”
“Friend, I suppose.” Clematis frowned to think of Lord Hyacinth’s reaction to that. “He would say friend.”
Flor huffed again. “But you wouldn’t?”
“I… I believe I would,” Clematis said with real surprise. “He is trustworthy and very generous. I suppose it is unusual. I am not of his class and he is much older than me.”
“Notthatunusual.” Flor crossed his arms.
Clematis missed the warmth of his hand but didn’t protest. “I was not sent to influence you.” He was tentative, although, if Flor was angry, it did not show. He was more peevish than anything else. “You’re upset again. You should go dance more, since you like it.”
The offer did not make Flor smile. “What about you?”
Clematis gestured around them. “I can stay here.”
“Or run off to a book and the moonlight again?” Flor’s tone was pointed, but not sharp. “I’m not upset,” he insisted.
“I will miss you,” Clematis replied, and all the tension dropped from Flor’s shoulders. Utterly confused by that, Clematis went on. “But you must have other things to do. Attend to Prince David. Or… doesn’t etiquette demand you dance with others? Although, you are Flor, who does not bother with etiquette… so, I do not know what you will do.” Clematis had not prepared for this sort of conversation.
“I bother with etiquette when it’s actually useful.” The words were stubborn but Flor was close to Clematis again, and looking up. “Right now, I am seeing to the comfort of a guest.”
“You are also a guest,” Clematis pointed out.
“Pfft.” Another obstacle dismissed. “I practically grew up in this place.”
“Yet you’renot marrying the Prince?” Clematis asked what he had never meant to ask, then pressed on when Flor went still. “People thought you would.”Hehad thought so, even when the Prince had so obviously fallen in love with someone else.
Flor studied him for another moment as though he had heard what Clematis had not said. “I’m not suited to be a consort.”
“You are more suited to run an army,” Clematis agreed.
Flor’s grin was wolfish, but brief. “Pfft. War is a waste.” He paused. “Are you trying to distract me? Perhaps you are the general here, with stratagems and a pretty face.” Clematis had no argument for that, and no believable denial. Flor tipped his head to the side, no less wolfish, even without showing teeth. “What is your name, if you will tell me?”
Flor did not know Clematis and was not likely to recognize his name. Nonetheless, Clematis looked away. “It is a masquerade.”
“You know who I am.” Flor was flirting again, a flirting of a different kind, knowing and teasing, with a dare at the center.
“You chose not to wear a real mask,” Clematis argued, although he would have recognized Flor even with one.
“And you did,” Flor countered, oddly pleased. “Choose, that is. Your lord, whoever he is, gave you one. You still have it on. Did you wear it to hide your identity, or your beauty?”
“They are much the same thing.”
“I do not think so.” Flor shook his head. “I might have stopped because you were exquisite in silver moonlight, but it’s not why I talked to you, or keep talking to you.”
