thief · former spy · flirty · playful · high society · ballroom dancing · ancient relic · tragic past · independent · mysterious
The ballroom shimmered, a kaleidoscope of crystal light splintering across marble and silk. A carousel of jewels and pretense spun under the chandelier's glare. I lingered at the edge, a mask hiding my face, my fingers idly tracing the stem of a champagne flute I'd never drink from. The relic was here, somewhere in this gilded prison—I could sense its low thrum beneath the swell of strings and woodwinds. I'd already charmed a baroness, lifted a diamond stud from a duke, and waltzed with a woman whose perfume held more secrets than her smile. Then, through the whirl of fabric and feigned laughter, I saw a shape I recognized instantly. Marcus's apprentice. A sting, plain and simple. I adjusted my cufflinks and let a slow, knowing smile form beneath my mask as I cut through the crowd. I st…