VIII. chapter: The strange game

The reception for the Emperor was horribly luxurious and almost as long. Giselle participated mostly out of her duty towards the Queen but also out of curiosity. Nevertheless, she was glad when she could leave, even if only to rest for a few hours before the ball started. She took a bath, Abby did her hair and helped her get dressed.

She was pre-arranged with Chon, Roy and Lin. They appeared at her door five minutes later than they should have, both men wearing multi-coloured costumes while Lin was clad in black and red.

"Good evening," the latter greeted.

"Good evening," replied Giselle, who just put on a white domino mask embroidered with gold threads. She was dressed in a rich, sleeveless, crème-coloured gown and white gloves, which reached the middle of her upper arms. Her hair was tied into an exquisite bun with gold feathers bound into it and some loose curls at the nape of her neck.

"You look stunning," Roy kissed her hand.

Giselle thanked him politely, and smiled a small smile. But something about the manner of her reply was wrong. Lin noticed immediately. It wasn't just her smile, it was everything; her face, her posture, her speech. Beautiful but emotionless. Her face was a mask all by itself. Even the posture of her body gave nothing away, not even coldness or calmness. The Chinese frowned. What kind of act was that?

She tried to start a conversation with Lady Rayne as they walked through the palace, but she only received short, polite replies, and gave up soon. It was obvious the Lady wasn't in the mood for talking.

"Wow," whistled Roy under his breath when they stopped on top of the stairs leading down to the giant ballroom. Ten luxurious chandeliers made of Venice glass were holding numerous candle-shaped gas lights. A gallery ran all around the hall, supported by pillars ornate with gold patterns. Across the passage under it were doors leading to small balconies. Tables, covered with crisp white cloths, were positioned all around the ballroom, laden with immense amounts of finest dishes and beverages. Footmen carrying trays with expensive glasses were scattered among the colourful crowd. The ballroom was filled with chatter and laughter, heard over quiet music coming from a corner where musicians were seated.

"Wow indeed," Chon agreed.

"May I have your attention for a moment?" Giselle suddenly remembered something. They nodded, and she beckoned them to step closer to the wall with her as to not be in the way of other guests.

"I sincerely hope you were told about the ballroom etiquette," she said.

"Oh, yeah, we heard some," Roy said in a tone, which showed he'd absolutely forgotten about it.

"Please, behave yourselves," Giselle's eyes landed on him. "I am already watched upon with enough disapproval, I do not wish to give people reasons for more gossip." Her face was still void of all emotions. "Have fun," she added.

"You bet!" Roy offered Lin his hand, and she took it with a smile. "Let's go, my fair lady!"

Lady Rayne watched them walk down the stairs. She was considering whether to be assertive and enter the ball alone, or try to be a good lady and wait for someone to go with, and then go alone after she'd realise what she already knew – she should have taken care of getting an escort before, when she heard Chon's voice beside her,

"Would you give me the honour and allow me escort you to the dance?"

Positively surprised she offered him her hand with a silent, polite smile.

At least someone listened to what he was told, she thought.

After four dances right one after another Giselle made her way through the crowd towards the tables with beverages. Glad she found water, she took a glass and made a sip or two. Her eyes travelled from dancing couples to some wallflowers on her right. She noticed Edwin a bit further away. He was talking to three young girls, who seemed to enjoy the conversation, judging by their heartily smiles. She averted her gaze; for not she'd had enough of Lord Dixon. Her eyes travelled further, and she slowly walked through the crowd, almost floated in a ghost-like manner. At some point she put down her glass. She was glad that she'd already been introduced to the Emperor, but even so it would be considered rude if she stayed away from the Queen and her guest any longer. Finding the Queen seated at her special table, she slowly approached.

"Ah, Giselle!" the older woman clasped her hands. "I hope you're enjoying the ball."

"Very much so, your majesty, thank you," Lady Rayne bowed. She was becoming a better and better liar. But then again, lying with a mask on her face was not at all hard. "The ball is fabulous."

"I'm glad to hear that."

Giselle bowed once again, then slowly walked away. That done, she found a place near a pillar, and engaged herself with observing the crowd. A woman in a jade green dress laughed at a joke her companion had told, but her laughter was too loud to be real; she just wanted to please. An elderly man sniffed his vine as if he were an expert on the subject. Two girls in their mid-teens giggled while looking across the ballroom.

"Would you give me the honour of dancing with me?"

Giselle turned around, and her eyes met a pair of blue ones. A man she'd never seen before was standing in front of her. He must have been in his late thirties, had short, dark brown hair and a small moustache, and wore no mask. She opened her mouth to accept when she caught a dark-clad figure with a corner of her eye. Standing a few meters away was a man dressed in black from head to toe, wearing a black mask, which covered his whole face. His hair was also dark, combed back into a very short ponytail at the nape of his neck. He happened to look at her as well, and despite the distance their eyes met. Something inside stirred.

"I am very sorry," she said, "but I really don't feel well. Please, accept my apology. I would gladly dance with you some other time."

"Oh …" The man looked displeased. "Maybe some other time, yes."

He left with a smile, but Giselle was certain he would never ask her to a dance again. Turning him down wasn't polite, she knew, and her excuse wasn't really good either, but she couldn't have ignored the feeling in her guts. Her eyes shot through the crowd in an attempt to find the black figure again, but he wasn't there anymore. Finally she discovered him. He was standing beside a table with food, trying to blend in with the walls; she was rather sure about the latter. Her caramel eyes stayed focused on him for two or three minutes. Then he moved, and slowly started to walk around, observing the crowd. For one moment he looked straight into her direction. Giselle kept her gaze steady all the time until she was disturbed by a footman, who offered her a drink. Agitated, she declined, turning her head again to continue the strange game. The man had disappeared. Her eyes shot around again and again, but in vain.

When she felt a light pat on her shoulder she wanted to growl with annoyance. But she quickly bit her tongue. The man she'd been looking for was standing right beside her. He offered her his hand – a silent invitation to dance – and Giselle took it without the slightest hesitation. There was something mysterious yet something horribly alluring about this man. She couldn't resist. She didn't want to.

He led her onto the dance-floor, his hand came to rest on her hip, her hand on his shoulder, and they turned, pulled by the rhythm of music. Giselle had to admit he was quite an excellent dancer. He was leading her safely, but she still had enough space to add that final finesse. And she enjoyed it. She felt good in his arms. The warmth of his body was calming and exciting her at the same time. There was that familiar chill going down her spine … Everything was too familiar. They way he held her, how he moved … At some point their eyes met, her caramel orbs meeting his dark irises, and Giselle's eyes widened. A breath got caught in her throat. Her heartbeat rose. She couldn't hold the gaze.

"Rathbone?" she exhaled in a shaky voice. "Lord Nelson Rathbone?"

Their twirl came to an abrupt halt as he froze in the middle of motion. For a moment, which seemed to last for eternity, they still stood like that, in the dancing-pose, then he grabbed her by the wrist, and roughly pulled her through the crowd past a pillar, across the passage, and straight through the door to a small balcony. Pushing her into a corner, he closed the door behind them.

Giselle's hands found the fence, and subconsciously closed around it.

"You're alive!" she exclaimed. "How?" Then a though crossed her mind. "What are you doing here?"

"Sshhh," he hissed, and covered her mouth with a hand. "Not a sound, understood?"

Giselle nodded, and pushed his hand aside. She felt as if a tornado were raging inside of her, but managed to suppress the feeling in her guts, and focus on what she thought was important.

"You shouldn't be here," she whispered. "It's dangerous. Someone could have recognised you!"

"What you don't say," he sneered.

"I won't tell, I swear," she whispered feverishly. "But I want some questions answered in return."

He didn't respond, so she went on, "We can't talk here."

"This is where we agree. Then where?"

She read in his eyes that she had his full attention. "Your estate. It's empty. Tomorrow at midnight. At the stables."

He measured her from head to toe before he gave one sharp nod. "Deal."

"Great. Now get out of here," she hissed. "Go!"

Another moment passed, one more time his gaze lingered on her. She couldn't see his face, but was quite sure confusion, doubts and – above all – suspicion could be read there. When he finally moved he disappeared in a blink of an eye, and Lady Rayne was left alone. Leaning on the fence, she shuddered form cold. It was the end of April. The weather was slowly getting warmer, but the nights were still cold, and a sleeveless dress was by no means a proper garment for the momentary temperatures. Nevertheless, Giselle didn't mind the cold. She was preoccupied with the pounding of her heart, and blissful relief, which was spreading through her like something warm blossoming in her veins.

He was alive. He was actually alive. That was all that mattered to her now. No questions, no doubts, no fears. Not now.

After a few minutes she collected her scattered mind to a certain degree, and returned to the hall. Striding to the other side, she grabbed a glass of red wine on the way, emptied it in one long gulp, and set it on a plate of a stupefied footman. There was no sign of her emotionless mask anymore when she rushed up the stairs and left the ballroom bustle behind. Her cheeks were reddish, and her head spinning with emotions. Heading towards her rooms with long steps, she happened to run into Abby.

"Oh, Abby, perfect timing!" she stopped her maid by grabbing her wrist. "Get me something to drink. Something strong. Now!"

She let her go, and the dumbfounded maid nodded before she scurried away. Giselle proceeded her way down the halls. When she was finally in her bedroom her legs gave way, and she collapsed onto the bed. She pressed a hand to her forehead. Her heart was beating wildly.

A/N: Figuring out how to make Rathbone still alive was actually one of the hardest things about the plot. It will be explained, of course. Also, I looked up a little bit how these balls worked at that time and tried to stick to it (mostly at least). So the things about entering alone and refusing a dance are true.