Chapter 19 #2
As we step through the doorway, I stop my jaw from dropping only with sheer force of will. I’ve always known the nobles went for extravagance, but this… This is as if the godlen of beauty herself touched the space with her blessing.
Crystal chandeliers twinkle at varying heights across the arced ceiling, which looms so far above our heads they look like clusters of stars.
Their glow beams down across the otherwise darkened dance floor in iridescent streams. I can’t tell whether the crystals themselves give the light that pearly quality or if it’s the result of someone’s gift.
Flashes of color slip in and out of those glowing beams as nobles in billowing dresses and velvet suits of every hue in existence circulate through the room.
Staff in formal but subdued black suits circulate between them with platters of bubbling glasses that hold their own, definitely magical glow.
The music seems to wind alongside them, coursing from every corner of the room with its lilting melody. I can’t see the performers. Are there dozens of them or only a few projecting their music through the vast space?
More magical décor glimmers around the edges of the room: pink roses for Ardone and orange blossoms for Inganne, gliding swans and fluttering butterflies.
One of the waiters breezes by us with a tray, and Esmae snatches up a glass. I decide I’m better off keeping my head as clear as possible.
The very atmosphere in the ballroom tastes like a drug. And I remember far too well how my control started to slip in the grips of whatever Anya or Romild slipped in my dinner the other night.
I drift forward, searching the figures with their gilded masks for any features I can recognize. My gaze halts on a towering figure near the edge of the crowd who’s staring right back at me.
There’s no mistaking Stavros, even in a suit twice as fancy as anything I’ve seen him wear before and his realistic prosthetic hidden by a glove. No one else has a frame quite that massive to fill out the deep green jacket and trousers to such impressive effect.
No one else has that shock of blood-red hair turned even ruddier in contrast with the green.
He’s wearing a gold mask too, to match the ample detailing on his jacket, a few shades yellower than his light brown skin. The shape of it is sharper than mine, though, with a definite masculine edge.
And his eyes bore into mine from across the room, refocused with that subtle twitch of his head, leaving no doubt that he’s recognized me too. Between the fractured lighting and the mask, it’s hard to read his expression, but his normally nonchalant posture has stiffened.
His lips part with a flick of his tongue over them that sends an unwelcome waft of heat crackling over my skin. Then he turns away as if he never saw me.
Of course. I’m not here to talk to him.
He was probably just startled to see me looking so little like a thief.
Come on, let’s get in there, Julita says impatiently, and I venture farther into the mass of nobles.
Skirts brush against mine, and laughter bounces alongside the music. I think I spot Anya’s pale hair off to my right, but she’s whirled away an instant later by her current dancing partner.
I sidle closer to a cluster of figures gabbing between sips of wine. All I hear them exchanging are judgments of the outfits of those outside their group.
Farther along, I catch one male student making a remark about a dagger to his friends. When I linger, it turns out he’s describing an ornamental piece his father is having made for his birthday, encrusted with gems.
Gold and jewels gleam everywhere—along belts, around necks, on fingers. In my hair.
So much wealth in one room, it could see every family on the fringes raised out of squalor for a year or better.
And I’m here marinating in it rather than bringing the people I considered my family their dues.
I let myself wander out of the crowd at the other end of the room and take a moment to rest my hand against the wall and close my eyes. The lights seem to keep swaying through my eyelids.
I’m here for those people. Here to make sure they don’t get burned up in retribution for crimes they could barely conceive of. That’s more important than leaving a few coins on a windowsill.
But in that moment, I can’t help feeling I’m getting nowhere at all.
When I open my eyes again, I notice Alek standing several feet away, also hanging back by the wall. It’s easy enough to recognize him when he’s stuck with his usual leather mask, which gleams softly beneath the chandeliers.
His stance is uneasy, like he doesn’t feel he fits in here any more than I do.
But if I hadn’t already thought there was plenty striking about his penetrating eyes, his dark hair, and those full lips, seeing him in ball getup would have shocked the realization into me.
He’s either got some fashion sense or a friend who does, because the crimson jacket sets off his bronze skin to impressive effect.
Hopefully I’m not ogling him too openly, because in the middle of my assessment, he glances over at me. He draws himself up a little straighter, his jaw working.
I’m about to smile, because it feels like I should acknowledge him somehow, but then he’s striding off around the room in the opposite direction.
Two out of two turning their back on me so far. I’m obviously making a fabulous impression.
The music dips as one melody blends into a more languid one. My gaze snags on Casimir’s tawny hair in the mass of dancers, just stepping away from a woman I don’t recognize whose ebony ringlets are gathered in a sphere of curls on her head.
My stomach wobbles, but not in a good way.
I jerk my attention to the side and start to slink back into the crowd on a course that won’t take me toward him. But I’ve made it less than ten paces when a steady but gentle hand closes around my elbow.
“There you are. Oh, that gown did turn out impressively, didn’t it?”
I spin toward the courtesan, who’s grinning at me from behind a silver mask dotted with sapphires much like the gems standing in for some of his back teeth.
You’d think the lesser metal would make him look shabby compared to all his classmates sporting gold. But with the midnight-blue of his suit and the silvery sheen to his dress shirt beneath, he looks like he could be a godlen of the night sky rather than any kind of mortal.
My pulse stutters, and I lose track of my voice. “I— Thank you. For the dress. And the hair pin. I told you—”
“I know what you told me.” Casimir touches my chin with just enough pressure to tilt it slightly upward, but the contact sends a flush straight down my chest. “And you’ve elevated the gown beyond what it was on its own. You’re stunning, Ivy.”
It’s literally his job to make people happy, so I doubt he entirely means that. But it makes my heart skip another beat anyway.
“Aren’t we supposed to be pretending we barely know each other?” I can’t help asking.
He makes a dismissive sound. “We’re incognito. Besides, I’m simply a schoolmate struck by an incredible beauty wandering by.”
His smile widens, and the hand on my arm slides down to twine his fingers with mine. “You’re not going to deny me the chance to fully appreciate our handiwork, are you? One dance won’t hurt anyone.”
It’s hard to argue with his warmly cajoling tone. And his “our” melts something inside me, even though I know he and Esmae deserve the lion’s share of the credit for however good I do look.
“I didn’t realize it came with additional conditions,” I say tartly as I let him set his other hand on my waist.
Casimir chuckles. “You’re allowed to say no. But you could think of it as part of your cover. It’ll look odd if you come to a ball and never dance.”
He does have a point.
I set my hand awkwardly on the lapel of his jacket. “I don’t know any of these dances, so trying might actually be worse.”
“That’s all right. I’ve trained to be an excellent partner. We’ll stick to a simple one. Just follow my lead.”
The mention of his partnering ability reminds me of the woman I saw him with a few moments ago.
My throat constricts, but I force myself to ask, “Are you not hired for the ball?”
The courtesan shakes his head without any sign that he’s bothered by the question. “I approach these events as an opportunity for potential patrons to sample my talents.”
My cheeks prickle with a hotter flush from before. “I wouldn’t—”
Casimir’s voice softens. “I know. This is simply a dance between friends.”
Are we friends, really?
That’s not a question I can ask. It’s impossible at least as much because of who I am as who he is.
He steps to the side so smoothly that my feet move automatically to follow. It only takes a few paces, charting a careful circle across the floor, before the rhythm of the music melds with our movements in my head.
After a minute, I’ve relaxed enough to try to match his cross-steps. My hand eases up to rest on his shoulder.
Casimir guides me a little closer to him, and his honeyed sandalwood scent drifts over me. My body tingles with awareness of the few inches left between us—of the sinewy muscles responsible for his feline grace. Of his gaze on me, even now.
I lift my head to meet it, but that might not have been the wisest plan. He smiles down at me, our feet still moving in tandem, and seeing his stunning face so close knocks most of the breath from my lungs.
I find myself saying the first words that pop into my head, as unwise as they might be. “Do you normally have much time to do things that aren’t about pleasing patrons or learning how to?”
Nearly everything I’ve heard him talk about that isn’t to do with me and investigating the conspiracy has revolved around his work.
Casimir shrugs. “It’s a fairly immersive calling. But I spend time with classmates I consider friends.” His mouth slants a little, giving a bittersweet cast to his smile. “Although as we branch out into taking on patrons ourselves, a certain level of competition has added tensions.”
My heart squeezes in sympathy for the hint of loneliness I catch in those words.
My dance partner doesn’t give me the chance to express it. He whirls us around, his hand on my waist firming to ensure I keep up.
“I know you’re a reader, but not what sorts of things,” he says. “Sprawling histories? Fanciful imaginings?”
He’s shifting the focus back on me—my interests, my desires.
I swallow thickly before I answer. “Both of those and pretty much anything else I can get my hands on. It’s all interesting one way or another. But I suppose I enjoy tales of adventures the best—real and fictional.” I’ve already devoured the first volume of Gisela Luvinya’s Traveling Diaries.
I’m not going to let Casimir act as if it’s only my concerns that matter, though. I give his shoulder a light squeeze. “What about you? Are you a frequent visitor of the library?”
His smile turns slightly sheepish. “I can’t say so. I’m passable with composing poetry, but the written word isn’t a great strength of mine.”
He tips his head with the melody lilting around us. “Of all the arts, I prefer music. Perhaps someday I’ll have the chance to play my flute for you.”
That’s always what he’s thinking of, isn’t it? How he can gratify everyone else.
Even now… With every movement, he’s adapting to my inexperience with incredible grace, probably making me look like twice as good a partner as I actually am.
How incredible would he look if he didn’t have to hold himself back so I could keep up?
Even if he sees this as only a friendly dance, how am I using him any less than all the patrons who at least are paying him?
I start to pull back. “You shouldn’t need to keep propping me up.”
Casimir catches me before I can go far. He studies my expression from behind his mask.
“That’s not how I see this,” he says. “Not at all.”
He brings my hand that he’s holding to his waist and releases it so he can brush his fingers over my cheek, tracing the line of my mask. “We’re incredibly lucky you found your way to us, Kindness.”
My pulse flutters all over again. I have the sudden impulse to bob up on my toes and kiss him, which only makes my face flare with embarrassed heat.
He wouldn’t want— It’d only remind him of the woman he really wanted and lost—
My lips part while my mind scrambles for some dry remark to break the intensity of the moment.
And the chandelier over our heads explodes in a hail of crystal shards.