Page 58
Eliyn blinked. “I…beg your pardon?”
“You expected something different.”
A careful pause.
“I have never attended such a celebration before.”
“No?”
“No, Your Highness.”
He hummed thoughtfully.
“I imagine it would seem excessive.”
A faint laugh escaped her. “It is beautiful, my prince. Perhaps more so than I had hoped.”
“It is garish.”
She glanced toward him. “You do not enjoy it?”
“The masquerade belongs to the court.”
“And you?”
“I enjoy more intimate celebrations.”
Silence settled comfortably between them again.
At last, the carved ebony doors to his chambers came into view. Lucan slowed. Beside him, Eliyn did the same. What will come of this night, little mystery?
His courtesan’s gaze drifted over the corridor with practiced subtlety. Though she never lingered long, he noticed the way she paused over the windows and flitted between them and the door. The faintest twitch of her thumb as she looked to the rafters. How her breath caught at the sight of the heavy lock on his door.
She missed very little, it seemed…except Lucan’s gaze tracking hers. Gairan help him; she truly was the most interesting thing to happen to him in centuries.
Reaching for the black handle, he pulled the heavy door open with ease. Amber candlelight spilled into the corridor, followed by a rush of warm air.
“After you, darling,” he murmured against Eliyn’s head as he stepped aside.
She hesitated for only a breath.
Then, with a graceful inclination of her head, she crossed the threshold into the Blooded Prince’s chambers. Lucan followed closely, hand never leaving her side.
“This way, my dear,” he said as he guided her inside. “Stand here; your complexion almost glows under the light.”
Eliyn dutifully stood under the witchlights, hands clasped in front of her like a shield even as she smiled. For a breath, Lucan thought to reach out and caress her face.
That was a long time ago, he thought to himself as he turned away.
Pushing aside his thoughts, Lucan began to disrobe. He removed his cufflinks first, laying them gently in a glass dish on his dresser. Next came the jeweled clasp at his collar, then the black coat.
Behind him, Eliyn softly gasped as his cream-colored tunic fell to the floor. He turned to her, a wicked sparkle in his eyes.
“Let us leave our masks on, shall we, darling?”
“Yes, my prince,” Eliyn whispered as if relieved.
The desperation in her voice only made his blood sing.
