Page 122 of Dance of Deception

Thatis how I "live with myself". Or at least, how I used to. It’s not like Lyra entering my world has suddenly given me a conscience, or the capacity to feel remorse or anything else I’m completely deficient in.

But she has made me almost wish Icouldhave those things.

Maybe she wouldn’t think I was such a fucking monster if I could feel bad for the things I’ve done.

I exhale as I stand abruptly. “We should start. Someone get The Wolf before he disappears into the maze with those two.”

The Bull nods, turning to stride over to where The Wolf has an arm around each of the girls.

The Stag stays. His eyes, shrouded in shadow behind his mask, bore into me. His head tips slightly to the side, assessing me.

“Did she see more of you than you wanted her to?”

I frown. I know who he’s talking about. The words hit their mark, uncomfortably precise. I grind my teeth, looking away.

“More than she should have.”

The Stag is quiet for a beat.

“What’s that like?”

It’s not a taunt. Not idle curiosity, either. He’sgenuinely asking—because he doesn’t know. WhateverI’mfeeling, he never has.

My jaw is tight, but the words still slip out before I can stop them. “It’s terrifying.” My voice drops lower. “It’s fucking terrifying.”

The Stag nods slowly, weighing my answer, filing it away, cataloging me the same way he does everyone else.

Then, without another word, he turns and disappears into the crowd to round up the others, leaving me standing there with my words still burning in my throat.

I pull my phone from my pocket, thumbing the screen until I bring up the security feed I had installed at Zakharova Ballet. The rehearsal hall flickers into view.

Something snarls inside of me.

Lyra is alone.

She moves in front of the mirror, her body bending and stretching fluidly, effortlessly.

I watch the way she commands the space around her without trying. The way she breathes life into an empty room, the way she makes the darkness inside me tighten, coil, demand.

She doesn’t just call to my monster. Shefeedshim.

She forces me to confront how deep my darkness runs. How much I like it. How closely I embrace it.

That’s never bothered me before.

It does now.

Suddenly, over the soft music playing and the laughter of the guests around us, a sound rings out.

A single piano note.

I glance over to where The Raven is standing by the grand piano, his finger on the F sharp above middle C.

It’s time.

The indulgence, the hedonism—both vanish in an instant. Lust and pleasure have no place here now.

Court is in session.

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