Page 4 of The Jester

“Beautiful dress. Let me guess. Tonight, you will be changing into a peacock. Blues, purples, and golds. Strutting through the forest like a queen.”

A voice with a timbre like warm honey pulls my gaze away from Kayan.

It is a voice I do not recognise, and I instinctively take a step back. The owner of the voice smiles at me from beneath a deep blood-red mask. It covers his entire face. Everything except his eyes, which are so dark they look like nothing more than pools of ink amidst the blood.

Taller than me, the stranger moves to block my line of sight – as if he knows I am staring at Kayan and wants to distract me from him.

“A peacock? Is that what you think of me? A preening, strutting, princess?” I ask, folding my arms as my wings twitch with annoyance. But as I stare at him, the annoyance fades. Because it is not arrogance emanating in waves from his athletic frame – it is wanting.

He wants me.

Not in the way Rawk wants me.

He wants me in a way that is both pure and powerfully disarming at the same time.

It has been so long since I felt this way – and the strength of his lust is so sudden – I almost forget how to breathe.

As a glimmer of the person I once was stirs in my belly, I move closer to him and tilt my head, leaning into the sensation I’m starting to remember. “We have not even had a conversation, and already you are insulting me? Does that usually work for you?” A coy smile twitches on my lips.

The stranger’s eyes twinkle. Although I cannot see his lips, I know he is smiling because the air around him shimmers with pleasure as I speak.

He releases a low chuckle that sends a small hum of enjoyment to colour my cheeks. “I’d have to spend more time with you in order to answer that question,” he says, extending his hand to take mine.

I hesitate, then hold my breath in my chest and accept the gesture. Instead of shaking my hand, he kisses it, meeting my eyes as his mask brushes the fabric of my gloves. Despite the fact our skin is not touching, something inside me fizzes as I watch him looking up at me.

“May I ask your name?” He straightens, clasping his hands together behind his back as though he is a suitor and I am a princess.

I open my mouth to reply, but my voice snags in my throat. He should know my name, or at least he should think he knows my name. If the spell is working, I should appear to him as someone familiar. Someone he already knows.

Panic stiffens in my bones. If this stranger sees me for who I really am, perhaps the enchantments aren’t working. Perhaps I am about to be found out...

Except that cannot be so, because if the enchantments had dropped, I would have been noticed immediately and would already be on my way to exile in the shadowlands.

“Varia.” I take my mother’s name and try not to mind that the lie tastes like acid on my tongue. Why does it feel wrong to lie to this man? Why do I feel as though he already knows me even though the opposite is quite clearly true?

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Varia.”

“And you?” I wait for him to give me his name but he does not. Instead he winks at me – winks at me – and saunters away in the direction of the bonfire.

“I will seek your company later,” he calls. “When the dancing begins.”

A little stunned, I tuck my hair behind my ear and exhale slowly. The juxtaposition of feeling suddenly seen and being reminded of the very reason I have been invisible for so long is hard to process.

Staring at Kayan does not help.

I’m about to draw myself away, follow the stream to the waterfall where the first dance will be starting, when he looks in my direction.

My breath falters, and a hand goes involuntarily to my stomach. Kayan smiles. He raises an arm and waves at me. I have no idea who he sees me as, but I wave back.

I am completely frozen. I cannot move. I search for the stranger who called me a peacock because perhaps he is nearby and will spot that I am uneasy. But he has disappeared.

“Rosalie...” Kayan puts a firm hand on my shoulder, then kisses my neck. The place just below my ear. A wave of contentment washes over me. But it is not my emotion; it is his.

My heart strains against the confines of my ribcage, and I swallow a knot of irony that tastes metallic in my mouth. They are together? He and Rosalie are together?

As he draws away from me, I can still feel the burn of his kiss. Like a tattoo on my skin, I fear it will remain there forever. “Kayan.” I smile and tuck myself into his embrace.

A firm hand runs down my back. Oh, how I remember his hands. “I wish I could change with you tonight,” he whispers, his forehead coming to rest against mine.

---