The silver fox mask was heavier than it looked.
I sat on the edge of my bed turning it slowly in my hands, watching the light catch in the diamond eyes. Up close, it felt less like an accessory and more like armor. Cold, expensive, deliberate. After a while, the realization settled in my chest.
I finally understood what Dmitri had been doing.
He already knew.
This wasn't a gift. It was a warning shot.
They wanted to parade me around in a muzzle. Dmitri had handed me something else entirely, a silver face that turned the whole game around. If I wore this mask, I wouldn't just be the scholarship girl people whispered about in hallways. I would be standing under his name.
That thought made my stomach twist in a way I didn't fully understand.
I drew in a slow breath, steadying my hands against the mask's smooth edges. The truth was simple. If I put this on, the quiet shadows I'd been hiding in for years would disappear. There would be no slipping through crowds unnoticed anymore.
At that point, I realized something.
I didn't care.
The next night, a heavy knock hit my door.
Just a dull, solid thud that rattled the wood.
I opened it to find Dmitri already turning away.
"Get your coat," he said.
He didn't even wait to see if I would follow.
I grabbed my boots and hurried after him, half jogging to keep up. The hallway was cold, and the sound of my steps bounced off the stone walls.
"Where are we going?" I asked, trying not to sound out of breath. "The Masquerade is in three days, Dmitri. I still need to practice. I can't just—"
"You can play that violin in your sleep," he interrupted, his voice echoing faintly above us. "But that won't help you in a room full of people who want to watch you fall apart."
I frowned. "So where exactly are we going?"
"The Old Foundry."
That got my attention.
The Foundry sat at the far edge of the school grounds, half forgotten and permanently cold. It looked like something out of another century, with cracked windows, rusted beams, and the faint smell of oil soaked into the walls.
When we stepped inside, the air felt even colder than outside.
Dmitri walked ahead of me and flipped a switch on the wall. After a moment, a row of overhead lights flickered to life, buzzing faintly as they settled. Long shadows stretched across the floor.
He shrugged off his blazer and tossed it onto a nearby crate. Then he rolled up his sleeves like this was the most normal thing in the world.
"Rule one," he said, turning to face me.
I folded my arms instinctively. "There are rules now?"
"In that ballroom," he continued, ignoring my comment, "everyone wears a mask, even the ones who aren't actually wearing one."
He stepped closer.
"You don't watch faces. You watch how people move. How they stand. Where they look when they think nobody is paying attention."
I raised an eyebrow. "And this has something to do with dragging me into an abandoned building at night?"
"Yes."
He stopped a few steps away from me.
"Defend yourself."
I blinked. "Wait—physically?"
He nodded once.
"That doesn't make any sense," I said quickly. "Whoever is behind all of this isn't going to punch me in the middle of a ballroom. They're socialites, not fighters."
"No," Dmitri agreed calmly. "They'll use words instead."
Before I could respond, he moved.
Fast.
He caught my wrists and pinned them lightly against my chest. It was effortless for him. I barely had time to react.
"If you freeze when someone threatens you," he said, his voice low and steady, "your body will tell everyone in that room that you're afraid."
I tried to pull away, but he didn't budge.
"Look at you," he continued. "Your shoulders curl in. Your chin drops. You look like prey, Isabelle."
That stung more than I expected.
"You look like a mouse waiting for the trap."
I twisted my wrists, struggling against his grip. My heart was beating too fast, and I hated that he could probably feel it.
"Let go."
"Make me."
The challenge in his voice made my chest tighten.
I shifted my weight, trying to step away, but instead he pulled me closer. Suddenly there was barely any space between us. The cold air of the Foundry seemed to vanish, replaced by the warmth radiating from him.
My breath caught.
"Your heart is racing," he murmured.
His eyes flicked briefly to my lips before returning to my gaze.
"Every predator notices that," he added quietly. "You have to learn to calm it down."
"You're the one grabbing me," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
For a second, something unreadable crossed his expression.
Then he released me.
The cold rushed back instantly.
"Again," he said.m
I rubbed my wrists. "You're enjoying this way too much."
He ignored that too.
"This time we talk about masks," he continued. "You think that mysterious woman is the only one who understands appearances?"
He tilted my chin upward, studying my face like he was analyzing something important.
"My family has been doing this for generations," he said. "We don't just wear things, Isabelle. We use them."
His voice softened slightly.
"They call you the Rat because they think you're small."
I stiffened.
"We're going to show them something else," he continued. "Because a rat can carry a plague that destroys kingdoms."
The lesson went on longer than I expected.
Hours, probably.
At first, it was awkward. I kept messing up the posture he showed me, and every time he corrected me his hands would shift my shoulders or adjust the angle of my back until I was standing straight.
"Not like that," he said at one point. "You look like you're apologizing for existing."
"I'm trying," I muttered.
"I know."
That surprised me.
Eventually, something started to click.
He taught me how to hold eye contact just long enough to make someone uncomfortable. How to walk without rushing even when you feel nervous. How to pause before answering a question so it looks like you were deciding whether the person deserved a response.
By the time midnight crept in, we were standing in front of a cracked mirror leaning against one of the walls.
Dmitri stood behind me, his hands resting lightly on my shoulders.
"Look," he said.
I did.
My hair was a mess from the cold air and all the movement, but my posture had changed. My eyes looked sharper somehow.
Stronger.
For once, I didn't see the girl people whispered about behind her back.
"See it?" he asked quietly.
"Yes," I said.
He squeezed my shoulders once before stepping away.
"Good," he said. "Because when those masks come off at the Masquerade, there's no going back."
Something about the way he said it made the words feel permanent.
Like a door closing.
He turned away to grab his jacket.
The lesson was over.
But the air between us still felt charged, like something unfinished was hanging there.
And for some reason, I didn't want to leave yet.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I stepped forward.
I caught his sleeve.
He stopped instantly.
His back stiffened slightly, and for a moment neither of us moved.
Slowly, he turned around.
The lighting in the Foundry was terrible, but even in the dim glow I could feel his attention settle on me.
We just stood there.
My breathing was too fast. His was slow and steady.
Then his gaze dropped briefly to my lips.
My stomach flipped.
He lifted his hand and brushed a bit of dust off my cheek with his thumb. The touch was light, almost careful, but it sent a small shock through me anyway.
His thumb lingered for a second near the corner of my mouth.
Then he leaned closer.
Slowly.
Too slow.
It was almost frustrating.
He stopped just before our lips touched, like he was waiting to see what I would do.
So I closed the distance.
The kiss was messy from the start.
All the tension between us, the arguments, the strange pull we'd been circling for weeks. It all collided at once. There was nothing careful about it.
His hand moved to the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair as he pulled me closer. Not gentle. Not hesitant.
Possessive.
I grabbed the front of his shirt without even thinking about it.
Everything felt confusing and intense at the same time. The cold air of the Foundry, the dust in the room, the warmth of his mouth against mine.
For a moment, it felt like the world outside that building had stopped existing.
Then just as suddenly as it started, he pulled back.
He rested his forehead lightly against mine, both of us catching our breath.
I could feel his heartbeat through my hand where it still clutched his shirt.
Neither of us said anything.
After a moment, he pressed a brief kiss to the corner of my mouth, softer this time, like a quiet punctuation mark at the end of something.
Then he straightened up.
The familiar "Ice Prince" expression slipped back into place, but his eyes were still unsettled.
"Tomorrow," he said, his voice rougher than usual. "We continue."
I nodded.
I didn't trust myself to say anything else.
So I turned and walked out, leaving him standing there in the dim light of the Foundry.
My lips still felt warm.
And somewhere deep down, I had the strange feeling that everything had just shifted in a way I wouldn't be able to undo.