Masquerade [Kuskovo Estate]

[Daniil]

Daniil watched Sofia with a calculated gaze, amusement touching his lips at her interactions with Zixin. It was a sight that both intrigued and irritated him, a dance of power and seduction that he was all too familiar with. He noted every glance, every touch, every coy smile Sofia directed at Zixin, and mentally filed it away as potential leverage.

As Sofia tolerated Zixin's charm and insults in equal measure, Daniil's amusement deepened. He knew Sofia enough to understand that her indulgence in his placations was a strategic move. He returned her sly smile with a knowing wink, playing the part of the charming cousin to perfection, but the wink was unsettling against the more sinister cut of his eyes. He doubted she believed in loyalty, not like his father did, but as long as she treated him like an ally, he would return the favor—until it no longer suited him.

When she commented, “You’ve fine taste, Danya, and as ever a finer talent for words,” Daniil's smile widened. He knew it was flattery, but he appreciated the recognition of his skill in manipulation. “Thank you, Sofia,” he replied smoothly, his voice dripping with feigned gratitude. “Coming from you, that means a great deal.”

His eyes followed Sofia's gaze to Elena, the so-called accessory of his evening. Elena, blissfully unaware of the machinations around her, wilted under Zixin's attention, earning her a momentary flicker of disdain from Daniil for the stereotype. She was beautiful, yes, but painfully vapid—a placeholder until something better came along. He tolerated her because she served a purpose, but she was expendable.

As her father's speech began, Daniil raised his glass along with the rest, more out of habit than respect for the old man. He clinked his glass against Sofia’s with a bland smile, her words—“To rewriting the rules, and coming out on top”—eliciting a faint nod. Ambition, after all, was a language he understood fluently. He didn’t need her to explain; he knew exactly what she meant. “To rewriting the rules,” he echoed, his eyes locking with hers in a silent challenge. “And to ensuring we are the ones who dictate them.”

The band began to play, and Daniil’s eyes followed Sofia’s gaze to the Ascendancy, then to Colette. If he was after a vision, indeed, Colette was where he should have been looking, but the frequent smiles flickering her lips would have annoyed him before she served her purpose.

“I expect to see you two on the dancefloor later,” Sofia said to him and Elena, a teasing smile playing on her lips. Daniil returned her smile with one of his own, though it didn't reach his eyes. Dancing was not his forte, and Sofia knew it. Her teasing was both a challenge and a dismissal, a reminder of his limitations. He would dance, but with Elena, and not for the amusement of others. “I wouldn’t miss it,” he replied smoothly, his tone betraying none of his irritation.

“Excuse us, I see a friend,” Sofia said, slipping her arm through Zixin’s. Daniil watched them go, his mind already calculating the next move. Sofia's departure was an opportunity, a moment to maneuver. As her fingers brushed against Zixin’s arm, Daniil felt a pang of something that might have been jealousy, quickly suppressed. He couldn't afford such weaknesses.

As Sofia and Zixin moved away, Daniil turned to Elena with a smooth smile, though his eyes were cold. “Shall we get this over with?” he asked, his tone leaving no room for refusal. He didn’t care about the dance itself, but it was a necessary evil.