Chat grinned as Lady Mariposa regained her bearings, her long, elegant fingers scrunching up her skirts before belatedly remembering to smooth them. She cast him another one of those hooded glances, not quite shy nor fearful, but guarded nonetheless. He was not sure what to make of them, but they intrigued him.

There was a spark there, a hint of inner fire she only allowed him to see in brief flashes. One moment, she was bold and playful, revealing a delightful humor, but then she would retreat into herself for no rhyme nor reason he could see.

Maybe it was a game. The verbal version of the ones Trixx and him liked to play, when Chat would sneak up behind the fox and smack them with a paw, only to dart away at once. Come chase. Can you catch me?

"So, Adrien," she said, infusing the name he'd coaxed from her with a hint of defiance, lips pursed in a pout. "What brings you to my humble corner of the courtyard?"

"Naturally, I was lured by the prospect of your company."

Pale blue eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. "Have I left such a lasting impression?"

"You were the highlight of the evening we met, so yes. Imagine my dismay when I realized you'd left the feast early. Was my speech so dreadful?"

She demurely dropped her gaze. "No, of course not, Your G– Adrien."

There it was again. "Why do you do that?" he asked, tilting his head.

She cast him an equally quizzical expression. "Do what?"

"Pretend to be a timid little mouse when you're not."

"I don't – I don't pretend to be any–" Her flustered words trailed off as comprehension dawned on her. "Wait. Is this why you called me souris!?"

"Well, that, and you squeak rather a lot."

"I – wha – I do not squeak!"

"Every time I lean in. Shall I demonstrate?"

"No!" The pitch of her voice rose an octave, pale cheeks darkening with red as she pressed her lips shut. When he could not restrain his soft laughter, the look she threw him was one of utter betrayal.

"It's endearing," he said by way of apology. "Adorable, even."

Lady Mariposa cast her gaze heavenward, closing her eyes as if straining for patience, even as the corners of her lips twitched. "You know. Sometimes I wonder how I've offended the Gods to deserve this torment."

He grinned toothily. "Oh, surely my company is not so a-paw-ling as to be torment."

"No, but your puns might be."

"Me-ouch."

And then she laughed. Breathless and short, with an edge of hysteria, yet music to his ears, a bone-deep longing for more twisting inside of him.

"Adrien." Bluebell eyes pinned him in place, glittering with that audacious spark that transformed her entire bearing. She raised her hand, pressing a gloved finger against the lion sigil embroidered on his chest. "You really need to expand your pun repertoire. It's feline derivative at this point."

He gasped. "Nonsense. These are timeless classics."

"You're ridiculous," she said, voice soft as silk and an expression on her face that he could not read. Chat was getting better at discerning what the subtle shifts in human faces meant, but it was moments like these that he wished that they had a tail and ears that moved like his, if only so he could unravel her mood.

"Ridiculous-ly clever? Yes, I agree."

"You poor thing," she whispered. "Is your head injury plaguing you still? To be suffering from such a severe case of selective hearing…"

Stifling his grin, he once more made his eyes large and pitiful. "Yes. Woe. Woe is me. You should–"

"Your Grace." Startled, Chat turned to look over his shoulder with a frown to spot his father's favorite servant staring at him expectantly. "May I have a word?"

He glanced back at Mariposa. "Can it wait?"

"I would not seek you out if it was not important, Your Grace. This matter is best attended to sooner rather than later." Her taciturn voice was raspy, deliberately deepened to uphold her masquerade as a male and she lowered it further still to a murmur meant for his ears only. "Normally it would be your father's duty, but…"

Chat shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the reminder of the king casting a shadow on his bright mood. "Understood. I'll be with you in a moment."

The valet inclined her head, and Chat turned back to Mariposa with a soft sight.

"Duty calls?" she asked sympathetically.

"Rather persistently these days. I would not mind these interruptions so much if people stayed where I left them. If I leave now, will you disappear on me again?"

She hesitated for the length of a breath. "Well, I heard there are going to be fireworks. So I'll be staying for those."

"Only for those?"

"I heard they're a sight to behold," she said, and a hint of teasing snuck into her tone. "Though I suppose if someone were to be in my general vicinity when they start, I would not say no to watching them together."

Adrien grinned, leaning forward in a bow to bid her a temporary adieu. "Then I suppose I shall endeavor to find your vicinity."

She gifted him with a small smile and his gaze lingered a touch too long. When Noel subtly cleared her throat, he forced himself to turn away and follow, catching up to the servant with a few long strides.

"So what's the matter?" he asked her.

Noel adjusted the silly little contraption sitting atop her nose – a strange human fashion, the purpose of which he hadn't yet discerned, if there was one at all. Nino wore one as well and never took his off, not even in private. Chat had been tempted to ask why he felt the need to mask his eyes, but the prince would likely already know the answer to that, so he'd refrained from drawing suspicion to himself. Curiosity still gnawed at him, but this matter was too trivial for consulting the mirror, and he'd already been using it more than was prudent.

"There are high-ranking Esparian delegates in attendance tonight. Your father had hoped to meet with them to begin defusing the tensions brought on by recent events, but…" Her brusque voice trailed off, the shadow of sorrow briefly touching on her expression before it became still as ice once more. "His recovery is taking longer than anticipated."

Faint guilt needled at him, and Chat shook the unwelcome sensation off. "I'm afraid I'm in no state for such a delicate task either. I'm–"

"Inebriated. Yes, Your Grace, I can tell."

Heat flared in his cheeks and even though he stood a good foot taller than her, he suddenly felt as small as a cub. Her cool gaze swept over him and warmed a few degrees.

"At ease, Your Grace. These negotiations are too important for me to hand to you on such short notice and with no preparation. You are the prince, not the king, and I would not ask you to do a king's work." She paused, and adjusted the double lenses once more. "Still, it would damage our standing with the Esparian nobles to not acknowledge them tonight. We need to extend a gesture of good will. You, the crown heir, taking the time to see to their comfort would go a long way toward smoothing the sting of cancelled plans."

"I can do that," he said softly, memories of his disastrous speech flashing through his mind.

But he'd promised the king he'd do better. And he would. If nothing else, he'd make sure the man didn't spend his last few years wallowing in disappointment with his son.

"Listen. You're right to be suspicious. But we are not the villains you're looking for."

"Then who is?" Nino's voice came out harsher more than he intended it to, a stark contrast to her calm and soothing murmur. Once more he yanked at her wrist, but she stood her ground, unmoved. That she remained balanced while he could barely contain this roiling maelstrom inside his chest only served to infuriate him more.

Damn it all.

Nino had liked her. Having spent the last few days obsessively ruminating on Chloe's fate, it hadn't taken him long at all to connect the dots to Marinette. As soon as his suspicions had risen, he ought to have sought out the king's men – yet he had hesitated. He, better than most, understood the harm false accusations could do to a person.

But Lady Alya's reaction was not that of an innocent unwittingly caught in suspicious circumstances. Her sharp gaze was focused and intense, the brief flicker of panic quickly tamed and hidden beneath a professional mask.

He'd hoped for confusion. Denial. Even indignation.

Anything but this.

"That is what I'm here to find out. There are larger forces at work, ones that threaten both your kingdom and mine." She hesitated, expertly adjusting her mask to tug at his sympathies. "I'm… a spy. Of sorts. Here to investigate why Lady Bourgeois was taken. Mariposa – Marinette – is a valuable witness who agreed to assist me."

lies

all lies

The venomous hiss resonated in his mind just as rage erupted in his chest, white-hot fury arcing through his veins. His breath caught, the beat of his heart thundering in his ears, drowning out the sounds of the feast that seemed so far away now. His fingers burned with the need to wrap around her delicate neck and squeeze until she (make her scream without sound) gasped for air and choked on her damned lies, until he had repaid the fate Chloe had suffered (and how she suffered) a hundredfold, until (bone makes such a pretty sound when it snaps)–

Nino yanked his hand away from Lady Alya's wrist, shaking his head to dislodge the exquisitely painted mental image.

"I don't believe you," he snarled, or meant to, but what came out was more of a despondent whisper. His temple throbbed, and when he squeezed his eyes shut, faint starbursts danced in front of his vision.

Lady Alya's composure softened with what looked a lot like concern (she doesn't need words to lie) and she reached to place her palm on his upper arm, the touch light as a feather.

"I know it sounds suspicious, I know." she said, soft as silk (and just as slippery). "I wouldn't believe me if I were in your shoes. But the truth is rarely convenient."

Nino had enjoyed the sound of her voice, before, had savored it when they'd danced, his first pleasant banter with a fellow noble in far too long. Maybe that had been what had blinded him. The false sincerity was so obvious now, her earnest demeanor undone by the calculating gleam in her eyes.

When he said nothing – for if he opened his mouth, he might just start yelling – she grew bolder, closing more of the distance between them.

"My Lord, I give you my word that I'm–"

"Enough!" Everything about her was just wrong, her discordant voice sawing at his taut nerves. "Your word is worthless. And I am done listening to it."

Lady Alya stood frozen for a moment's fraction, her eyes silently pleading with him.

Then her shoulders sagged, and the mask fell with them. His breath caught when her lips curved into a cruel smile, and he took an uncertain step backward. The wine had to be sitting ill, for he wobbled as the world tilted on its axis. Shadows bulged, twisting and swelling to envelop them both, pouring into each crevice to make them stand out in stark relief. The faint lines on Lady Alya's youthful face became black canyons as deep those of a crone, stealing away the beauty he'd been so foolishly enamored with.

"How unfortunate," she said. "I had hoped to make use of you yet."

Nino squeezed his eyes shut against the sight (don't turn away from the truth), fighting to keep control of his breath as his heart hammered against his chest. A trick – a trick of the light, nothing more, gone as soon he calmed himself.

"You're too clever for your own good, my Lord."

Her mocking lilt scraped the insides of his skull, and his fingers dug into his temple as he clutched his head in pain. Something was wrong, this wasn't–

"Not like your lady love. She had no idea what was coming for her. Not until the very end. Gods, what a mess that was to clean up."

Nino froze, eyes flying wide open. Lady Alya's smirked, her mouth too wide and her teeth too sharp, malevolence shining in her gaze.

"What – what are y–?" His frantic heartbeat thundered in his ears, no other sound piercing the dark haze. None but her voice, slicing like steel, and just as cold.

"She screamed your name, you know. Will you scream hers?"

Starbursts exploded in front of his vision, the scene of what must have happened unfolding as clear and vivid as if he was standing right there. Chloe in her golden parlor, the one where they'd shared their first–

She laughed against his lips, breathless and giddy, so at odds with her words and the hand pushing at his chest even as her fingers dug into his undershirt to keep him close. "Stop, we have to stop, papa will see…"

–having tea with a redhaired noblewoman, all smiles and pleasant conversation. Getting distracted and turning away, while behind her Lady Alya quietly pulled a dagger from the depths of her dress. Nino's body lurched forward, except it wouldn't move, his limbs disobeying when it mattered most, helpless to do anything but watch–

you don't have to watch

–watch as his loved ones were picked off one by one–

protect

–and he was left behind, alone, to mourn–

fight

–teeth grinding and jaw aching, he strained against the paralysis that had taken hold of him–

or Adrien is next

He lunged, his elbow connecting with her belly as they both went tumbling down into darkness. She writhed beneath him as they hit the ground, fingernails digging into his shoulders, scratching like claws as she scrambled for purchase to push him away. Her knee jerked up, perhaps in an effort to throw him off, but the blow was cushioned by the many layers of her dress.

Unintelligible babble spilled from her lips, drowned out by the harsh sounds of his breaths, and he paid them no mind. Her words were worthless, and this would end right here. His fist connected with her jaw and a vicious thrill ran down his spine at her agonized cry. Once more her legs kicked at him, but the pain was nothing. Not when gleeful anticipation coursed through his veins, the siren song of blood beckoning. His lips split into a grin as he pinned her hands above her head, and–

Nino reared back, squeezing his eyes shut against the vivid vision of spilled guts and viscera.

What was wrong with him? He abhorred violence, had once even fainted at the sight of–

"…just a little blood." Adrien laughed as he clutched his arm, the red drip spilling out between his fingers. Nino's belly rolled with nausea, and he quickly averted his gaze, his breath quickening. "It's not so bad."

wake

Gods, the king would have him hanged for this. Nino's grip on his rapier tightened. "I'm so, so sorry, Adrien, I got careless and–"

wake up

"Relax. This is hardly my first sparring injury."

"WAKE UP!"

His eyes snapped open, and a Goddess met his gaze. Wings made of violet light ringed her eyes like a mask, a wild mane of silver hair flowing behind her. All around them, the shadows were retreating, slithering away as if fearing her radiance. Her lips were moving, yet no sound made it past the rush of bloodlust in his ears.

Nino could do nothing but stare as she gently tugged him to his feet – when had he fallen? The question slipped away when she brushed her fingertips along his jaw, cupping his face in gloved hands.

"…ocus on me." Her voice echoed as if from a great distance, lovely and familiar. "Feel the touch on your skin. Breathe in the air and savor the winter's chill. Ground yourself in this world, and Underhill cannot touch you."

The words sank in slowly, their meaning barely penetrating the fog in his mind. What was Underhill? Nothing made sense, and yet – and yet…

Nino swayed and leaned into the gentle touch, eyelids growing heavy.

A snarl rang out, and a vulpine beast lunged out of the darkness, maw closing around the woman's throat.