Elena barely managed to keep her sanity in check.
Where had he gone?
The masked man who had pulled her into the dance as though destiny itself had woven their steps had disappeared into thin air. One moment his hand was on against her waist, guiding her through the haunting rhythm and the next, he had vanished into smoke and silence, leaving her stranded in the center of the floor.
Her breath came in shallow pulls, the air suddenly becoming too heavy and too thin. She turned in a circle, scanning the blur of velvet and silk, desperate to catch even a glimpse of that violet mask. But everyone, everything was frozen in place.
"Elena Voss," a voice murmured.
She spun around.
A woman stood before her, dressed in a gown of silver that flowed like waves at her feet. A mask shaped like an owl, hid her face, but her eyes were the same shade of red as the masked man's .
Elena's first instinct was to step back, but the woman reached out, curling her gloved fingers around her wrist with surprising strength.
"Congratulations," the woman whispered "You've accepted the pledge."
Elena blinked, confusion knotting her thoughts. "Excuse me?"
The woman let out a soft laughter, low and soft that made Elena's skin prickle. "So innocent," she said. "But you did dance with our Prince and you're still alive. That is enough."
Elena yanked her wrist free. She was beginning to lose her temper. "Enough for what? And what Prince are you talking about?"
"For the binding of course." The woman tilted her head. "The pledge is now complete. You are his bride now."
The words hit Elena like ice water. For a heartbeat, she could only stare, searching for any trace of a joke in the woman's expression. But she was dead serious. The little smile on her face was replaced by a hard expression.
Elena barked a laugh, convinced that she had now gone mad. "This is absurd. Some sort of ridiculous...prank call it!."
"You think this is a game?" The woman countered and leaned closer. Her scent was completely different from the masked man's own but it was still sharp and metallic, like roses dipped in blood. "The prince has chosen. You danced beneath his hand on the Spirity floor and so you are his."
Elena shook her head, trying to pull away, but the woman's gaze pinned her in place. For one breathless moment, time seemed to hold still again.
And then the woman's eyes changed. They began to glow in a crimson hue, burning like coals buried deep beneath ash.
Elena's throat tightened. The laugh she'd forced moments ago died on her lips.
And then, before her very eyes, the woman dissolved. Her body shimmered into fragments of silver mist, crumbling like ash scattered in the wind. Within seconds, there was nothing left but a faint scent of her perfume and the metallic scent of blood in the air.
Her knees trembled. She clutched the edge of her gown, desperate to anchor herself to something real.
And then, before she could even do anything else, the ballroom erupted in sound.
Laughter, chatter, and clinking of glasses resumed in full tempo. Even the music resumed as though it had never stopped. Guests twirled across the marble floor, oblivious to the absence of the silver woman, to what had happened and to the strange pause that had suspended the world.
Elena staggered back a step, her eyes darting from face to face.
Didn't anyone see?
Didn't anyone notice?
She pressed through the crowd in desperation. Hoping desperately for someone who could reason with her. To prove to her that she wasn't mad and that they had experienced what she had.
She approached a young lady in her twenties and immediately asked her. "Did you see her? The woman with the silver mask? She was right here!"
The Lady wrenched up her nose in disgust and quickly picked up her handkerchief.
"Away with you foul peasant! I wouldn't like to be bathed in your dirtiness!". The Lady gave out a defeanig, offensive laugh before quickly leaving with her friends
Her laugh had attracted the attention of other guests and they all turned to Elena.
"Voss," a Lord spat the name like venom. "Like father, like daughter."
Elena froze and realization dawned on her. No one else had witnessed the dance or the silver woman. She was the only one who had sens everything...
Her lungs burned. The walls pressed in and the air became thick and suffocating. The stares cut sharper than knives, peeling away the mask she wore, reducing her once more to the girl forced to watch her father burn.
She couldn't breathe and without thinking, she turned away and ran from the hall.
Her heels clicked loudly against the marble as she shoved her way free, ignoring the mutters and stares. She needed air. She needed to escape.
.........
The doors of the garden swung opened and Elena nearly collapsed onto the grass that lined it's sides.
The air was cool and crisp, carrying the scent of roses and damp earth. Lanterns swung gently from wrought-iron hooks, casting golden pools of light across the paths. Beyond them, the garden stretched wide with hedges curling into labyrinths and fountains spilling silver into stone basins.
Elena stumbled forward, clutching her chest until the fabric began to rumple but she didn't stop. She stumbled forward and stopped at the heart of the greenery. The music from the ballroom had already faded to a ghost of sound, replaced by the soft hum of cicadas and the whisper of leaves.
She sank onto a marble bench, pressing her hand against her locket. The cool metal bit into her palm and steadied her as she fought to catch her breath.
But what truth was this? A stranger binding her in a single dance? A woman vanishing before her eyes? A mysterious Prince claiming her as his bride?.
Her throat tightened as the questions poured in. She pressed her face into her hands, fighting back the sting of tears. Elena decided to have a little nap before returning back to the hall so she laid on the soft, lush grass and slept off.
But time passed by quickly and minutes slipped into an hour.
The night blurred, and when at last she lifted her head, the garden was silent...very, very silent.
She glanced down at her locket, flicking it open. Inside, the tiny clock ticked steadily. Midnight had long passed which meant the masquerade should have ended.
Her heart skipped. She had been out here too long.
...….......
She rose quickly, gathering her skirts as she retraced her steps through the hedges. The garden's paths wound endlessly, but at last the glow of the Tower returned, spilling across the courtyard.
By the time she got out, the guests were already departing.
Her chest tightened with relief when she spotted the car waiting near the edge of the drive to take her. The driver stood stiffly beside it, waiting for her.
Elena hurried forward, her heels clicking against the stones. She reached for the car door and was about to shut the door when something caught at the corner of her eye.
She turned her head slowly, dread coiling in her stomach.
At the far end of the courtyard, half-hidden by the shadow of a marble column, stood the man in the violet mask.
And his eyes were directly fixed on hers.
His eyes glowed faintly beneath the mask, bright red and burning across the distance until they seared her soul.
Elena's breath hitched. She couldn't look away. She felt hypnotized again.
The driver cleared his throat softly, the sound jarring her back. "Miss Voss," he said. "We should leave."
Her fingers trembled as she grabbed the car door and slammed it shut.
As the car pulled away, Elena's gaze clung to the figure in the courtyard.
He continued to watch her through his violet mask that uncovered his crimson eyes.
Only when the car turned onto the road and the Tower vanished into darkness did she finally release a trembling breath.
Her reflection in the glass stared back at her. She looked even paler than a ghost and lips continued to part in fear.
"What have I gotten into?" she whispered but the night offered no answer.
The next morning, a letter arrived at the front door.
'A wedding invitation from the royal family.'