Page 54
As Lucan turned, her eyes wandered to the pale pink ribbon trimmed with crimson holding the mask in place. His white hair curled around it at his ears.
Like a fading amaranth flower.
The sight unnerved her more than his fingers now skimming across her neck. They paused upon the broad, black collar threaded with delicate, golden embroidery. His thumb slipped beneath its edge, idly testing the craftsmanship before carefully plucking some unseen stand of silver hair from the fabric.
“Hm.”
Lucan’s gaze slowly drifted over the crimson gown, the neckline plunging to her sternum, exposing the fullness of her breasts for his roving eyes. He lingered on the embroidery winding over her waist like thorned vines, and the sweeping cape clasped to her collar.
“Anileta has outdone herself.”
Elarian flashed a smile, batting her lashes as if overwhelmed by his scrutiny—which she was.
“The countess wished to leave Your Highness with a memorable gift.”
“Memorable indeed,” he hummed as his thumb traced the curve of her lower lip.
Elarian trembled beneath his touch, heart leaping to her throat before she could calm it. Lucan chuckled as he leaned closer.
“I already think you will be my favorite, pet.” Lowering his voice, he spoke again as his fingers unclasped the cape from one side of her collar. “Tell me, darling, what do they name such an intoxicating creature as yourself?”
Fuck.
She had prepared her disguise down to the last strand of hair pinned against her head, but had not thought of a name. That Lucan might care what his courtesan was named had never crossed her mind.
“Eliyn,” she said, the name surfacing through her panic.
“Eliyn,” Lucan repeated slowly, as if savoring the sound in his mouth. “How lovely.”
With his next breath, Lucan unclasped the other side of Elarian’s deep red cape and let it fall to the floor at her feet. She bent to retrieve it on instinct, but Lucan’s fingers at her throat gently pressed in.
“Leave it.” He leaned in, lips brushing against her mask. “Dance with me. Let them look at what is now untouchable.”
Wrapping his other hand tightly around her waist, he turned Elarian and began to walk toward the center of the ballroom with her clutched to his side.
The lords and ladies of the Blooded Court parted without a word, heads bent as their prince and his new prize swept through. Elarian counted her breaths, unable to focus past Lucan’s fingers skimming over the exposed skin at her shoulders. That wretched desire for more twisted inside her stomach until it ached.
“So tell me, Eliyn—have we met before?”
“No, Your Highness,” Elarian breathed, heart fluttering in her chest as a warmth spread to her belly.
“A pity.” He smiled, but it never reached his eyes. “Your presence would have eased the tedium of eternity all this time.”
Elarian giggled. The perfect, demure courtesan—and not at all the assassin disarmed by the playful charm of the monster she had long hunted. Extending her hand to his, she let her shoulders relax as their gaits changed to match each other.
Perfect, she thought to herself with smug satisfaction.
It was all going perfectly.
But then, Lucan looked down, and his smile slipped. Shadows ringed around her fingers, holding it in place as Lucan stopped in his tracks.
“Where did you get this, Eliyn?” He thumbed the golden ring around her forefinger—
The golden ring!
How could she have forgotten to take it off?
It had slipped from the pocket of her trousers as she dressed for the masquerade. When she reached for it, something about the deep red rubies stirred her heart. She had never had anything beautiful for the sake of its beauty. Everything had a purpose, a clear directive that all led to one thing: her silver coated with Lucan’s blood. An assassin should have known a target would recognize their own ring.
