Lord Caspian had not intended to enjoy the evening, but he had. More than he cared to admit. The mysterious lady had been witty, sharp-tongued, and entirely unlike the women who normally vied for his attention.
"I believe it's rather late," he said, standing reluctantly as the moon climbed higher in the night sky.
"Yes, indeed," the masked lady replied with a playful laugh. "But I must say, Your Grace is quite the charming man. Surprisingly tolerable."
"Only tolerable?" he chuckled, amused by her candour.
"Well, perhaps slightly better than tolerable," she teased. "You're quite interesting."
"I must admit, I find you rather interesting as well," he said, unable to hide his smile.
"I know that already," she said with a smirk, brushing an invisible speck from her gown.
"You're rather cocky, aren't you?" he asked, his tone teasing.
"I take pride in knowing myself," she replied, her voice warm and self-assured.
There was a pause, a delicate space where something unspoken hung between them.
"Would you like to do this again?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. "I promise, your stay in Aldovia won't be so dreadfully dull… not with me around."
Lord Caspian hesitated, about to reply…
But before a word could leave his lips, a sudden gasp echoed from the terrace behind them.
It was followed by shouts, the clatter of heels against marble, and the unmistakable ripple of chaos beginning to brew.
He turned swiftly, his instincts sharp. Something had gone wrong.
When he looked back, the lady was gone.
Vanished like mist in the morning light.
Only her perfume lingered faintly on the breeze, sweet and haunting. At his feet, her mask lay abandoned, delicate and glinting under the moonlight. He picked it up, his lips curling into a faint smile.
Whoever she was, she had given him the most intriguing evening he'd had since arriving in Aldovia.
On a high balcony overlooking the palace gardens, the emperor stood beside Lady Charlotte Cavendish. The wind teased her curls as the moonlight bathed them in silver.
For a long moment, neither spoke. Tranquillity stretched between them, soft and rare.
"I must say, Your Highness," Charlotte began quietly, her hands resting on the marble balustrade, "you have been paying a rather… pointed amount of attention to me of late."
Xander turned to face her, one brow arched in amusement.
"And does that trouble you, my lady?"
"I suspect it may trouble others more," she said, her tone cautious but light. "Rumour has a way of spreading faster than fire in dry grass."
"I am unbothered by what others say or do," Xander replied, his gaze sharp. "As long as they remember their place and never dare to cross the line."
Charlotte offered a slow nod, then looked down at the gardens. "I've decided something, Your Highness."
"Oh?" he asked, intrigued.
"I've decided to have fun... and go with the flow."
The emperor narrowed his eyes slightly. "Do explain. I quite do not understand what that means, milady."
She let out a soft sigh, her voice nearly lost to the wind. "I overheard your conversation with Lord Flynn the other day."
He turned away, a teasing smile playing at his lips. "Of course you did."
"And pray tell," he said, tilting his head toward her, "what did you hear?"
Charlotte hesitated, her expression unreadable as she looked out into the darkness. The distant shouts from the terrace still echoed faintly behind them.