The great of the palace was a blaze of light.
Ten thousand candles burned in crystal that hung from the ceiling like frozen waterfalls. The floor was black and white marble, so brightly that it looked like water. Silver ribbons and white roses twisted around every pillar, and a full orchestra played in a golden balcony above the dance floor.
And everywhere, there were masks. Birds and beasts. Gold and silver and black. Faces of cats, wolves, swans, and demons. Hundreds of men and women in silk, velvet, and jewels, whirling together like colored leaves in a storm.
I stood at the top of the stairs, with my father beside me in a plain black mask, and Nora behind me in the dress of a lady's maid.
*Here we go,* I thought.
"Lady Elise! Lady Elise!" A herald in a gold coat cried my name, and heads turned. I felt hundreds of eyes pass over my silver fox mask and my pale blue silk dress. A murmur ran through the crowd like wind.
"The girl who refused the sapphire."
"I heard she has come to accept it."
"Never. She has too much pride."
I descended the stairs slowly, with my back straight and my chin high. I would not let the whispers touch me. Walking down those stairs, I felt, for an instant, like the girl in my first life, who had loved every second of attention. But she had been a child, and I was not.
At the foot of the stairs, my father bowed to an old duchess and was swallowed by the crowd.
I was alone with Nora, in a sea of masks.
I began to study the room like a hunter.
My first rule was simple. A mask hides a face, but not a body. People can change their clothes and their voices, but not the way they walk, or hold their hands, or tilt their heads when they listen.
So I looked for hands.
There, near the fountain of , was a man in a peacock mask with blue and green feathers. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his head tilted, nodding politely to a laughing group of ladies. I knew that posture. I had known it since I was nine.
*Marcus Dane.*
Across the room, near a pillar, a small figure in a violet feathered mask stood alone, holding a glass she did not drink from. Her curls were pinned up, but one brown lock had already escaped.
*Vivienne.*
As I turned from the pillar, a voice murmured behind a lion mask. "The will be announced at Midsummer. Pryce insists. He will not wait past autumn."
"And if the girl refuses again?"
"Then Pryce will find a way to persuade her."
They laughed softly, and moved on.
Then I saw him, the tall man in black.
He stood very straight at the edge of the dance floor, half hidden in a shadow. A plain black mask covered the top half of his face, and one hand rested lightly on his belt, near the hilt of a hidden sword. He wore no uniform. But I would have known that straight, still back anywhere, in any crowd, in any life.
Kael Rowan.
His mask turned. He had seen me. For one second our eyes met across the room, and I felt it like a touch. He gave a tiny, slow nod, and then looked away, as if he were only a guest at a party, bored.
My pulse began to beat evenly, for the first time that evening.
I was not alone.
One more figure remained to find.
I found him last, because he was the one trying hardest not to be seen. He stood by the great windows, far from the dancers. A thin man in a long black coat, with a plain black mask. Beneath it, I saw a pointed gray beard. His hands were folded in front of him, and on one finger, a black iron ring caught the light of the candles.
Lord Octavian Pryce, the prince's Chamberlain.
And he was looking directly at me.
I did not look away. I raised my chin, and let my silver fox smile, very slightly. A hunter does not run from a snake that has seen him. He lets the snake wonder what he has come for.
Then, at my elbow, a warm voice said, "May I have this dance?"