Chapter 4

The air in the private alcove was thick, heavy with the scent of stale perfume, beeswax, and the lingering musk of a hundred bodies that had just vacated the main ballroom. I leaned back against the cold, ornate marble of the wall, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. The crystal chandelier above us, a cascading explosion of Murano glass and gold leaf, had been dimmed to a soft, amber glow, casting long, dancing shadows across the intricate frescoes of the ceiling. It was late. The music from the orchestra had faded into a distant hum, and the grand palace was settling into its slumber, leaving just us in this secluded corner of the world. My mask was still perched on the tip of my nose, a delicate thing of white lace and gold leaf that had begun to slip as my breathing grew shallow. Across from me, standing with the easy, predatory grace of a man who owned the very floor beneath his feet, was he. He hadn’t removed his mask yet. It was a simple black domino, stark and severe, hiding the upper half of his face but leaving his mouth exposed—a mouth I had