Instead of retreating into the shadows where he belonged, Silver closed the remaining distance between them with a predatory, silent stride. He walked right up to the very edge of the bed, invading her personal sanctuary without a shred of fear.
He leaned over her, cutting off her view of the ceiling, replacing her entire world with his painted mask. As he bent down, the colorful tassels of his jester's cap swayed gently, and a few loose, pale strands of his hair escaped his headpiece, falling forward to cast a jagged shadow over his white-painted face.
His eyes—that terrifying mix of amber shifting into infected blue—locked onto hers, pinning her beneath a gaze so intense, so strippingly intimate, that she felt entirely naked beneath his scrutiny.
"Are you truly casting me out, my Queen?"
he whispered, his voice dropping into a low, chillingly soft register that vibrated directly against her skin.
