Iris glanced up at him in surprise. “Have you?” Though she’d suggested it while disguised at the masquerade, she had hardly expected him to take her advice to heart.
“Yes. Though I must confess, my appreciation for it remains limited.” His lips quirked slightly, and Iris found herself longing once again to see a genuine smile on this man’s lips. A smile that washis, not hidden by an enchantment. “The volume I found in my mother’s library was filled with what I can only describe as flowery nonsense about caged nightingales and silken whispers.”
A laugh escaped Iris before she could hold it back. “Perhaps you should try a different poet. Not all verse is quite so … lavish.”
“I had rather hoped you might recommend something more tolerable,” he said, stopping and turning to face her, his tone weighted with meaning. “After all, it was at your suggestion that I endeavored to broaden my literary horizons in the first place.”
Iris’s breath quickened at what he had just revealed. She halted, turning to look up at him fully. In that moment, the surrounding bustle of the market seemed to soften and recede, leaving them in a hushed bubble of awareness. The stiff formality he wore like armor dissolved, and what remained was the raw, unguarded openness he’d shown her that night in the study. “You knew it was me,” she said softly. “At the masquerade.”
“Not at the time,” he said. “Only the morning afterward, when I noticed the silver bangle on your wrist. The same one the mystery woman at the masquerade had worn.”
“Oh, yes. It was the only part of my ensemble that remained unchanged by the mask’s enchantment. Perhaps because it so perfectly matched the mask itself.”
“Your lack of surprise suggests you recognized me as well,” Jasvian observed with a wry twist to his lips. “What betrayed my identity?”
“It was something you said early in our conversation,” Iris replied. “It echoed a phrase from our written correspondence and could have come from no one else.”
“And yet, having discovered who I was, you chose to remain. You continued our dance rather than seeking another partner. You …”
“Spent almost the entire evening with you,” Iris finished.
He nodded. “Why?” he asked quietly.
Her heart fluttered faster against her ribcage. “Because I wanted to,” she said simply, feeling her cheeks flush slightly.
Silence fell between them, heavy with unspoken meaning. Jasvian’s mouth curved upward, not quite reaching a full smile but coming closer than Iris had ever seen outside of the masquerade. A strange new warmth began to bubble up inside her, but both of them turned away before acknowledging anything further, each seemingly reluctant to disrupt this delicate new understanding.
“Oh, look at these,” Iris said, her eyes landing on the nearest stall and its display of delicate crystal animals. A stag pawed at the velvet beneath its hooves, while a fox curled its crystal tail around itself, its eyes gleaming with amber light.
“Try this one,” the vendor encouraged, placing a tiny owl in Iris’s palm. She frowned when nothing about the crystalline figure changed. “Ah, you’ll need to remove your glove, my lady,”the vendor explained as he lifted the owl from her palm. “The enchantment cannot work otherwise.”
Iris tugged gently at the fingertips of her wrist-length glove, grateful now for Brenna’s insistence on the shorter style. Her maid had assured her, when laying out her attire for the evening, that elbow-length would be considered too formal for the Night Market. Instead, she’d chosen delicate maroon lace gloves that complemented the shifting burgundy and deep crimson hues of Iris’s gown.
The vendor proffered the owl once more, and the moment it touched Iris’s skin, the crystal bird spread its wings and a warm violet light glowed from within. “Each animal chooses the color most suited to the one who holds it.”
Jasvian leaned closer to observe the transformation, his shoulder brushing against hers. The casual contact sent a pleasant shiver through Iris. “Fascinating,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. “The color does indeed suit you perfectly.
“Creativity and imagination,” the vendor said. “And what might it show for you, my lord?” he asked, offering a crystal wolf to Jasvian.
He hesitated, then accepted the figure. The wolf’s internal light shifted immediately from silver to a deep, rich blue. The vendor nodded knowingly. “Ah, trustworthiness, loyalty, stability. All admirable qualities befitting?—”
“Thank you,” Jasvian said, returning the wolf somewhat hastily, as if uncomfortable with the insight. “Shall we continue?” he asked Iris. “There’s a magical demonstration near the central fountain that I think you might enjoy.”
As they moved away from the stall, Iris found herself relaxing slightly. The initial awkwardness was gradually giving way to something more familiar. The cautious rapport they’d developed through weeks of written exchanges. “I missed our morningcorrespondences,” she admitted, surprising herself with her candor.
“As did I,” Jasvian said quietly, his gaze still directed forward. “I will admit I didn’t know where to begin or what to say after …” He trailed off, but Iris knew he meantafter that night in the study. “I must have composed a dozen different messages in my head and not written down a single one of them, believing none to be right.”
Iris smiled, her eyes on the ground ahead of them as they continued walking. “I would have been happy to receive any of them, I’m sure. I—oh.” She glanced down at her hands and stopped abruptly. “It seems I’ve only one glove. I must have left the other behind at the crystal vendor’s stall.”
“I can return and look for it?” Jasvian offered.
“No, please don’t trouble yourself,” Iris replied as she tugged at her remaining glove. “My grandmother isn’t here to be scandalized,” she added as she slipped the glove from her hand, “and we can look for the other on our way back.” Without a reticule in which to store it, she held the delicate maroon lace toward him. “Might I trouble you to keep this safe for me in the meantime?”
Jasvian hesitated, his gaze fixed on the glove—that intimate garment that had, until moments ago, covered her skin. “Certainly,” he said at last, accepting the delicate item and tucking it into the inside pocket of his coat.
They reached the central fountain where a crowd had gathered to watch a lone musician standing upon a raised dais. The performer held a harp crafted from what appeared to be strings of moonlight. As the first notes rose into the evening air, they didn’t merely create sound but manifested visually above the fountain’s waters. Strands of light in soft blues and greens began to pulse with the rhythm, casting their gentle illumination across the upturned faces of onlookers. As the music intensified,the strands transformed into undulating ribbons of vibrant light that chased one another through the air above the glistening water.
The longer they stood watching the display, the more Iris became aware of Jasvian beside her. The warmth radiating from his tall frame, the subtle scent of cedar and something else she couldn’t quite identify, the way his hands were clasped perhaps a bit too tightly behind his back. The crowd shifted, pressing them closer together. Jasvian’s arm brushed against hers, and she felt him tense at the contact. But he didn’t move away.
