Masqued

I saw her there at the masquerade in shimmering black in a pale sequined mask. It was her eyes that captivated me more than anything else. She moved smoothly across the floor as gentlemen, one after another came to her and humbly asked for her card. Sometimes she obliged, other times, she politely informed the poor soul that she was otherwise engaged.

Still, the vision of her haunted me. It was as if an inky shadow was swirling across the hall, waltzing into frenzy whilst commanding the room. The surroundings seem to dim around her. She was the sole light amidst Belgian crystal chandeliers. Such was her charisma.

The quartet, high above the floor, seemed to take their cue from her. The strings vibrated at her command. The tenor and pace seemed to match her movements. When she spun the rhythm matched. As she bounced through her flourish, strings sighed.

I watched her from various places in the hall. Her eyes often locked with mine in a not-so-subtle contest. I could almost feel her energy from across the floor. As she changed partners, so did I. We were becoming entangled through some spiritual connection.

Each of us dancing with others, but with each other at the same time, yet only the two of us knew. All else faded as the evening wore on. The yaw and pitch of the strings let us sail in matched pairs in tighter circles. I could feel the energy building between us.

The scent of her perfume drifted towards me as we passed each other back to back. It was of orange blossoms and musk. I saw her lips turn upwards as we both managed a sideways glance. I could only wonder what lay behind the mask.

Her eyes were mesmerizing. Her smile was coy and blissful. Her cheekbones were high and her nose thin. Her creamy face formed a perfect oval. Still, she was partnered with someone else and by all means untouchable.

Long silken gloves crawled along her arms from her fingertips to above her elbows. They held impeccable form as she glided around with her partner. I would even suggest they might have been dainty.

The lace collar she wore around her neck held a cameo that hung down on her chest above the suggestion of a plunging neckline. It bounced slightly as she turned and moved along with the music coming from the quartet.

Oh, to be that cameo, to touch that tender skin.

I envied that piece of jewelry to be able to be so close to her. At once I understood Shakespeare’s balcony scene. I knew the reason why fair Romeo did not crawl up the trellis and take Juliet. I found myself eager to orbit this mysterious beauty.

My eyes couldn’t help but watch her as my own partner looked away to observe the others on the floor. There, near the entrance was the consort to the Tsar of Russia. Along the wall, aloof as ever, was one of the minor ministers to Queen Christina of Sweden. Other dignitaries stood, wine in hand marveling at us who were on the dance floor. In her arms though, Gabriel Bethlen, Hungarian Prince of Transylvania.

His full beard and distinguished nose could not be hidden from behind the mask that he wore. I held my breath when I saw the mercenary king hoping that no one would notice that I discovered him through his disguise. A sidelong glance between my beauty and I told me that she knew of my secret knowledge.

Hurriedly, I guided my partner away from the couple. Somehow, she maneuvered herself and Bethlen towards us. I turned immediately away blessing the quickened pace of the music. The jangle of the strings allowed me to move surreptitiously, yet overtly away from my former lusting interest and her murderous king.

Soon, to my dismay and fear, I felt the hand on my shoulder. It was firm and sure. I looked up and saw the bearded face part in a wicked smile. I had no choice but to trade partners. There we were together, I and my goddess in pitch-colored silk and lace. Her eyes brought me in and we took each other in tune to the music echoing down from above.

The orange scent of her filled my nostrils. The touch of her hand sent chills down my arm. My heart seemed to beat in time with her bouncing cameo that was tapping out a sublime rhythm. Moments ago I would have been happy to have been lost in my proximity to her.

Now, knowing the Blood Prince was in attendance, I could only think of the standing army of mercenaries and how Bethlen was destroying the Peace of Vienna as well as the Habsburg alliances. I could only guess at the true reason for his presence.

Were his mercenaries in the city? Was he planning another attack? Was he pushing to expand his territory? My mind reeled with the possibilities.

I was caught now. She held me tightly as I led us in a slow circle around the edge of the dance floor. She cocked her head as shook it slightly. There was to be no escape from her clutch. Silken hands held my body strong. Hypnotic eyes brought me closer.

She leaned up to me and brought lips to my ear. I could barely contain myself as the strong scent of orange and musk filled me. I could almost taste her intent. My hands trembled in hers.

“You were not to find out, my darling.” Her words were sweet and thickly accented. She sounded like Romani but held herself as royalty. Competing impulses crashed like waves over my mind. I wanted to bring her closer to breathe her in, yet I knew that she would be my end if I stayed.

I felt the pinprick too late in my arm. Her eyes locked into mine and conveyed the lust I so wanted to be near. As my feet shuffled against the beat, I felt her take the lead and guide me off of the dance floor. She sat me down in an overstuffed chair and brought my hand to her face.

My heartbeat slowed. I couldn’t feel my arm anymore. Still she stayed with me. The only vision left in my mind was her face and her lovely sequined mask hiding an assassin’s guise.