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“The countess also suggested the first, but I know your preference for simplicity. I was assured these colors would complement your complexion well.”
Lucan scarcely looked at it, eyes drifting toward the black mask instead. He noted how it would only obscure half his face with grim satisfaction. Good. Let her feel the comfort of my smile perfected for the court.
“No.”
Senna inclined his head, extending the black mask. “Then…this one?”
Lucan reached for it before the shorter vampire could finish speaking. Cool lacquer greeted his fingertips. As he lifted the mask, an impossible image brushed the edge of his thoughts—a river glimmering beneath summer light, laughter carried on rushing water. The memory brought a smile to his lips. His thumb drifted across a blue streak as if he could somehow touch singing waters again.
Strange, really.
The colors suited neither the masquerade nor the current court fashion.
Yet something about it settled the restless unease coiled inside his chest.
“Shall I at least exchange the ribbon for black, my prince?”
Lucan frowned. He should…but there was a beauty to it he could not place.
“It is fine, Senna. I rather enjoy wearing something new from time to time, you know.”
Senna bowed, then stepped behind Lucan to help him place the black mask. Cool lacquer pressed against his cheeks. A shiver—something he had almost forgotten he could do—ran the length of his spine. Closing his eyes, Lucan smiled.
It had been so long, he’d almost forgotten the thrill of anticipation.
Squaring his shoulders, Lucan turned to look at his visage in the mirror.
The black swallowed the sharp planes of his face, leaving only white hair and cold, crimson eyes beneath the witchlights. Strands of rogue half-curls framed the mask around his ears, accentuating the roundness Aurelion had often mocked him for. Arrayed in black and silver, only his foreboding posture betrayed his rank as Blooded Prince.
Not that he minded.
A knock interrupted the quiet.
“Enter.”
The door pushed open and a servant quickly entered, bowing low until their long hair brushed the floor.
“Your Highness…the countess still has not answered her attendants.”
Lucan frowned. He had little patience for whatever foolish game she wished to play tonight.
“Still?”
“No one has seen her since yesterday evening, sir. She said she did not wish to feed and asked not to be disturbed. Her favored lady’s maid was slain by y—an unidentified party. Perhaps she is bedridden with grief.”
He wasn’t sure why he was supposed to care.
“She enjoys theatrics,” he said slowly. “Leave her to them. I have no doubt she will not miss her precious masquerade.”
“Yes, sir.”
The servant lingered.
“There is…one other matter.”
Lucan sighed, mouth twitching with impatience.
“Say it.”
