He appeared at the top of the stairs like a shadow that had learned how to wear finery. His hair was midnight black, cropped neatly above the collar of his elegant coat—a deep sapphire so dark it looked black under the chandeliers. Silver embroidery traced curling vines along the sleeves and lapels, and a pin shaped like a coiled serpent gleamed on his chest. His gloves were pure white.
But it was the mask that stole her breath.
White as bleached bone, with delicate black filigree swirling around the eyeholes and down the cheekbones. Tiny silver studs caught the light whenever he moved. Unlike the other masks—feathered or playful or brightly colored—this one was elegant, understated, and impossibly expensive.
It was the kind of mask worn by someone who never had to wonder whether he belonged here.
The music faded into the next song, and Nysa almost stumbled.
Lioren steadied her. "Careful."
"Who is that?" she whispered.
He followed her gaze and shrugged. "Some noble. Maybe even royalty."
She watched as the man descended the staircase, every movement precise and unhurried. Heads turned to follow him. He didn't look at anyone in particular, yet people parted as he passed.
Her heart thumped hard, inexplicably.
He's not coming over here, she told herself.
But he kept moving closer.
Her mouth went dry. What would she say if he approached them? How should she curtsy? Would he even speak to her? She felt herself flush, part dread and part an odd curiosity she couldn't name.
Lioren must have felt her stiffen. "Don't worry," he murmured. "He probably won't—"
The man drew within arm's length.
Nysa's breath caught.
And then he walked past her.
Her heart stuttered, then fell into a mortified relief.
He didn't spare her a glance. Instead, he turned to a woman in a gown of deep ruby silk—her mask glittering with red stones. The lady inclined her head, a soft laugh escaping her lips as she placed her hand in his.
Without a word, he led her to the floor.
Nysa tried not to watch, but she couldn't look away.
They began to dance. Perfectly. Effortlessly. As if the two of them had been practicing for years. His gloved hand rested against the lady's waist, guiding her through slow turns that made the room itself seem to revolve around them.
"They look..." She didn't finish.
"Like they're made of a storybook," Lioren supplied gently.
Nysa tore her gaze away, cheeks warm. She pressed a hand to her throat, feeling the tiny flame of her pendant. She wasn't sure what unsettled her more—how beautiful he was up close, or how invisible she'd felt in his presence.
She looked up again despite herself.
He didn't spare a single glance her way.
The orchestra built to a soaring refrain, the masked man and his partner moving in perfect time.
Nysa forced herself to breathe, to remember where she was.
She had survived worse than being overlooked. She had survived raids and hunger, grief and loneliness. She would survive this, too.
---
Nysa had never imagined she could feel so many emotions in one night—delight, dread, awe, humiliation, all tumbling over each other like dancers with no rhythm.
As the song with the slow, elegant waltz drew to a close, she let herself believe that perhaps, finally, she could relax. Lioren still held her hand, his touch steady and reassuring. She'd survived a dance, a hundred curious stares, and the sight of the masked nobleman gliding past her as if she were invisible.
But the moment the final note died, the orchestra burst into a brighter, more jubilant tune—something fast and lilting that made every couple on the dance floor straighten with anticipation.
Around her, murmurs rose in happy ripples.
"Oh no," she breathed. "What is this?"
Lioren looked almost amused. "The festival set. It's tradition. Everyone learns it growing up."
"Everyone?" she repeated, panic creeping into her voice.
"Well, everyone who...attends these things." His smile faltered a little. "Don't worry. I'll guide you."
She glanced around in horror. Already, the nearest couples were moving into position, their feet tapping lightly in time. She could see Murda laughing with her partner, Sera spinning in a practiced circle. Everyone looked so sure of themselves.
"I can't—" She started to step back, her heart racing. "I don't know this."
"Nysa." Lioren's voice was gentle but firm. "Look at me."
She did.
"Just watch my steps," he said. "Trust me."
"But—"
"I promise," he added, squeezing her fingers. "I won't let you make a fool of yourself."
For a moment, she wanted to believe him. And when the music leapt to life, she forced herself to move with him, though her heart was in her throat.
He guided her through the first fifteen seconds, his hand pressing lightly at her back, his voice low as he counted under his breath. "Left—now right—half-turn—good—step again—"
And astonishingly, she did not trip.
She did not collide with any of the gleaming, masked guests.
She did not die of embarrassment.
As they finished a turn, she gave a shaky little laugh. "I think—I think I have the hang of it."
"That's my girl," he murmured.
Heat rushed to her cheeks at the way he said it, but she had no time to dwell. The music quickened, the rhythm bright and playful. She and Lioren joined the crowd, moving in a pattern that spiraled and wove. The dancers became a living tapestry—colors and feathers and masked faces blending into a single, joyous blur.
For several heartbeats, Nysa forgot to feel afraid.
But the moment of triumph didn't last.
At the crescendo of the song, the couples began to switch partners. Hands released and clasped again in a dizzying dance of faces and masks. Nysa felt her stomach drop.
"Wait—" she began, reaching for Lioren's arm.
But he was already stepping away, beginning to dance with another lady.
And suddenly she was facing a tall man in a crimson mask, who seized her gloved hand and spun her in a rough arc that nearly knocked her breathless.
"Oh," she gasped.
He didn't apologize. His grip was firm—too firm—fingers pressing hard into her waist as he steered her across the floor. She tried to keep pace, tried to smile politely, but her heart fluttered in unease.
.
.
Guys I'm in a contest please support me.
For more daily uploads:
Goal for next week 👇
2 chapters - 100 power stones
3 chapters - 150 power stones
4 chapters - 200 power stones