And once the question was gone from Marisa's lips, the conversation would not leave the young explorer. Ever wilder rumors fell from the mouths of both men and women, tinges of fact slipping in occasionally.

So much for civilized society.

The less gossipy had long since excused themselves from the group, claiming a need for fresh air or a drink. Edward had walked away, the fox wrinkling her nose, disdainful of the gossip flowing from every tongue and mingling together.

The monkey pricked his silken ears, saving every word while Marisa let her own mind wander. The monkey's memory was far better than her's. He never forgot a single detail.

She continued to watch the conversation's subject, the man in the corner. Asriel. He had turned towards her circle, a half-smile on his face, suggesting a slight, bored amusement with them. His daemon was stretching, as though she was waiting for something, an intangible, unpredictable something to happen. Marisa was waiting, too.

Once in a few moments, the monkey would nudge Marisa, breathing words in her ear.

"He was born a wealthy lord and when his father died when he was twelve, he inherited everything. He's made even more in expeditions to the North."

or:

"We were right, he's young. Twenty-eight, only three years older than we are."

or:

"He's got a terrible temper. They say when he was a child he killed the son of one of his servants for no real reason at all. But he got away with it, of course."

or:

"He's not seen much of London, left it straight after college. They say he's taken witch-lovers in the North, though. And one of the maids at Jordan had to leave because of him."

Marisa tensed a little at this particular story, turning to the wall to gauge the Lord's reaction, if he had heard.

His smile had widened, like he wanted to laugh at them. Marisa frowned. Had he heard? She could not read this man, could not tell a thing about him. She turned herself back to the conversation, sipping at her glass, slightly put out. Marisa excused herself from the group in a moment, lowering herself into a chair, scooping the monkey into her pale arms Asriel's eyes followed her, not the group. His eyes were black, the darkest she had ever seen besides her own. She turned her eyes away, skin prickling.

Marisa felt uncomfortable for the first time in years, the first time since those early parties when her jewels lay heavy on her throat and she felt sure someone would spin round and call her his Lordship's whore at any second.

Asriel's eyes stayed on her. He did not seem to be judging her or dumbfounded by her or drinking her in with his eyes. He was not imagining her with him and she found this irritated her. Why was he looking at her? It made her nervous, jittery.

Marisa raised herself from the chair, moving towards the balcony. Eyes turned as she walked past, people trying to catch her gaze. Edward caught her arm as she passed him by, asking her where she was going. She wrenched her arm away and remained silent.

There were strange times when she wondered whether Edward was not worth the power, not worth the status and money. He cared too much. He stifled her.

Marisa wasn't sure what had come over her but she needed to breathe.

Reaching the balcony, she sat on the curved iron bench, her breathing strangely irregular.

"Why are we like this now?" the monkey demanded, his voice high and strained.

"I don't know, I don't know," Marisa breathed, "He... I think it was him. He made me---I don't know."

"I thought he was interesting," The monkey's eyes widened, "Different."

"That he is," Marisa agreed, shivering a little.

They were there a moment, looking out at darkening London. It was still summer and Marisa found herself wanting to sit atop the railing on the balcony, letting her legs swing over the city.

"Someone might see," the monkey reminded her, scolding, and she restrained herself, sitting down once again.

She heard the creak of an opening door, the padding and scratch of paws, hard footfalls echoing after. The monkey tensed, smoothing down his fur and Marisa rose and spun around.

The first thing she saw were green eyes, tilted upward, fixed on the monkey. She raised her own face to see two black eyes staring at her, boring into her. She could see nothing back in them. It was all veiled.

Marisa was suddenly conscious that her elbow-length gloves hid her wedding ring.

"Hello." The man's voice was different. It held the same upper-class, Oxford accent as Edward's but it was deeper, rumbling. There was a wild sharpness behind it she couldn't fathom.

The monkey arched his back.

"Hello," she replied, her own voice sharper than it would have been in the next room.

There was a hanging moment of quiet, the strange eyes never leaving her face. The monkey did a dance round the leopard, trying to get her to break her constant, unchanging stare.

She did not.

"Who are you?" Asriel asked, as though it barely mattered whether she answered.

"Marisa," she answered, moving back and sitting once more.

"Do you have a last name, Marisa?" There was a slight laugh in Asriel's voice. The leopard inched towards the monkey.

"No," she teased, a slight smile stretching over her lips. The monkey imitated her, his teeth glowing, drawing back from the leopard.

"Marisa, then." Asriel smiled himself, a wild, glittering smile.

The leopard extending a paw to the monkey, her eyes slightly less intense.

"Stelmaria," she said in a low voice to the monkey.

"Asriel Belacqua." Her master's tone mirrored her's but was slightly more impassive.

Marisa was impressed by his exclusion of the title from his name---as though he no need to prove who he was.

"But I expect you know that."

"How would I?" she challenged.

"Stelmaria has excellent ears."

"Does she?" Marisa kept her tone icy, "What did she hear?"

The monkey crouched in front of her, eyes challenging. Stelmaria stepped forward, matching him.

It wasn't a fight, not a real, honest fight. It was a game with thousands of little rules and nuances. It was a game Marisa excelled at. But she wasn't the only one .

"Some facts, some lies and some things her master had near forgotten."

"And which is which?" Marisa turned her face upward.

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know," Asriel stated. Stelmaria turned away, her tail swishing.

"Not too desperately, I assure you, my lord."

"So, why aren't you still with the band of harpies?" Asriel leaned against the edge of the balcony.

"I needed air."

"You don't strike me as the sort to leave the crowd."

"What sort am I?"

"You feed on the crowd," Asriel said simply.

Marisa tensed, the monkey in her arms within an instant.

"I must go. I've had all the air I need." Her voice was flat.

"Enjoy your night, Marisa." Asriel's voice seemed to hold a trace more sincerity than it had before.

"Thank you." Marisa softened a little before placing her hand on the door knob to leave. She paused, remembering something.

"Asriel?" She turned around.

"Yes?" He raised an eyebrow.

"When I am back in the hall, you have never met me. You have never spoken to me before. You do not even know my name."

"Of course." Asriel showed no surprise at her demand.

"Thank you." She meant it too.

The monkey threw a last glance at the leopard and followed Marisa into the party.

"Lord Asriel Belacqua."

Here was the official introduction, the proper words, obeying the game rules.

Edward looked uncomfortable. Asriel clearly intimidated him and the fox moved closer to Edward. Marisa watched, the slight smile curving on her lips mirroring Asriel's.

"Edward Coulter," Edward offered, putting his hand out. Asriel shook it and Edward drew his hand away the moment he could, as though it were poisoned.

"And I'm his wife, Marisa."

Marisa kept her captivated, bland smile on, putting out her own hand. Asriel looked at her and there was a spark in his eyes.

She realized what his looks meant. He saw her.

"Charmed," he replied. And they were playing the game once more.