Masquerade [Kuskovo Estate]

[Zixin Kao]

 
Zixin & Cyrena

He was led off the dance floor by a firm tug of the hand. Cyrena glanced back over her shoulder, a mischievous smile flashing as though they shared some private joke. Her hips swayed in rhythm to the lingering music, the slit of her black dress parting with each step, offering glimpses of long, toned legs. Zixin allowed himself to follow, his usual grip of control tinged with curiosity. He wasn’t the sort of man to be led—yet he was intrigued enough to allow her guidance.

They stopped at the edge of the room, near a shadowed alcove where the golden light from the chandeliers softened, pooling around her like a spotlight.  She reminded him of a shark circling, waiting for an unsuspecting meal to wander too close. He appreciated the quality. Women like Cyrena weren’t easily bored, but when they were, they had a habit of creating chaos for entertainment.

“Thank you for rescuing my poor, unfortunate shoe,” she teased, her lips curving into a slow, sultry smile. She offered a hand, her wrist loose even as her grip was firm. She was no damsel in distress, he realized. She was a puppet master; a role Zixin approved. She had fire, a boldness that he rarely encountered in rooms filled with posh people like this. He found it quite amusing. Perhaps the best entertainment of the night.

“That little stunt on the dance floor… quite the performance. Was it meant for me, or someone else?” Zixin asked.

Cyrena’s smile widened, a glint of wickedness in her eyes. “Let’s just say I like to keep things interesting,” she said, brushing a hand slowly down her dress, as though smoothing an imaginary wrinkle.

Zixin laughed, his suspicion tempered by the undeniable attraction that simmered between them, “No good sentence ever began with let’s just say…”

“But you certainly made it worth my while.”Her gaze flicked over him, lingering just long enough to make her intentions clear.

He wasn’t naive; he could see she had her own game in play. Still, he found himself drawn to her, intrigued by what she might want—and what she might offer. “I can’t help but wonder if Sofia sent you my way.” The mention of Sofia was deliberate, a calculated move to see how much Cyrena knew—or didn’t know. He watched her closely, searching for any flicker of recognition in her expression.

Cyrena blinked once, her smile never faltering. “Sofia?” she repeated lightly, as though tasting the name. “No, darling, I act on my own. Always.” She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “But if you’re implying I should be worried about her, do not bother. I can handle Sofia.”

Zixin’s lips quirked upward in a half-smile, impressed by her deflection. “Worried? Not at all,” he said smoothly, though the thought of Sofia’s reaction to this little diversion was tantalizing. “But I imagine she’d find this… interesting.” His voice trailed as Cyrena leaned near. He took advantage of the opportunity to ask a conspiratorial question. “So if this is not about me, then who?”

Cyrena’s only response was a subtle nod, directing his attention back toward the dance floor. Zixin’s gaze followed, curious, but his brows rose slightly when he saw not Colette, nor the man in her arms, but Sofia, now dancing in the arms of none other than the Ascendancy himself.

“Well now,” Zixin murmured, his expression shifting into one of amusement mixed with something sharper. ”This is an interesting turn of events,” he murmured, eyes narrowing.

At his side, Cyrena grew still. Her easy smile faltered for a fraction of a second, and her expression turned flat, like ice. Noticing her change in demeanor, Zixin glanced at her, his suspicion rekindled. “Is she close to the Ascendancy, then?” he asked, his voice low and probing.

Cyrena scoffed softly, though she was careful to keep her voice quiet, her gaze flicking back to the dance floor. “It seems he’s chosen his—” She cut herself off abruptly, the words hanging unfinished in the air. Zixin’s brow lifted, and he leaned slightly closer, pressing her with a look that demanded answers.

But Cyrena only smirked, a touch irreverent, her eyes sliding back to meet his. “It’s nothing,” she said, dismissing the moment with a shrug, though her tone betrayed that it was very much something.

Zixin didn’t push her further. He didn’t need to. The tension in her voice, the way her smile had sharpened—he could read between the lines. He let his gaze linger on Sofia and the Ascendancy for another moment, a flicker of calculation crossing his face. Interesting indeed.

“Zixin Kao,” he said.

“Cyrena Marveet,” she replied.