Masquerade [Kuskovo Estate]

[Jaxen Marveet]

Cyrena Marveet

Cyrena’s green eyes glittered with interest, the corners of her mouth curling into a smile that was equal parts amusement and predation. She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand as she studied him, her nails tracing lazy circles on the bar. His words had been disarming, a rare admission of vulnerability she hadn’t expected.

“A girl?” she repeated, her tone velvet-soft, but there was a sharp edge beneath it. “How delightfully cliché. Here I thought you might be the mysterious type, Carter. But no, it turns out you’re just another lovesick fool chasing after some girl who’s probably not even worth it.”

Her words were harsh, but the teasing lilt in her voice made it clear she was toying with him, like a cat batting around a mouse. She tilted her head, her expression turning more calculating. “So let me guess. You didn’t come with her. She doesn’t even know you’re here, does she?”

Carter’s silence confirmed her suspicion, and Cyrena’s smile widened, a glint of mischief lighting her face. “How utterly intriguing,” she purred, running her fingers along the rim of her glass. “And here I thought you were just another faceless Volthström trying to impress me with your name and scotch and your tailored suit. But no, you’re here with a purpose. I like that.”

She sat back, her confidence radiating as she crossed her legs, the slit of her black dress parting. “Now, Carter, darling,” she said, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper, “you’ll forgive me if I’m wrong, but I can’t imagine you’re the type to pine from the sidelines all evening. If you’re here for her, why haven’t you gone to her yet?”

He hesitated, and she seized the moment, her voice turning softer but no less calculated. “You’re nervous, how adorable,” she said with a mock pout. “Poor thing. She must be something special if she’s got you all tied up like this. Or… maybe you’re just afraid she’s already moved on. Is that it?”

Cyrena didn’t wait for an answer; she had already decided on her next move. She stood, smooth and deliberate, and extended her hand to him, her smile shifting into something more seductive. “Come dance with me,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “It’s the quickest way to get her attention. Trust me, if she’s here, she’ll notice you with me.”

Without waiting for his agreement, she tugged him to his feet and led him toward the dance floor, her grip firm. Cyrena thrived on this, and she could already feel the anticipation building as she envisioned the scene she was about to orchestrate.

Once on the floor, her body swayed effortlessly to the music. She pressed herself against Carter with far more intimacy than those around them danced. It didn’t take long to spot her target: a young woman in a shimmering blue dress, currently laughing at something her tall, handsome partner was saying. So that’s her, Cyrena thought, her smile deepening.

She leaned in to whisper into Carter’s ear, her breath warm against his skin. “Is that her?” she asked, nodding subtly toward Colette. She could feel his tension spike and knew instantly that she was right. “Oh, she’s pretty. Lucky you’ve got me to help you, darling.”

Cyrena spun Carter with practiced precision, her movements graceful and calculated as she maneuvered them closer to Colette and her companion. She timed it perfectly, orchestrating a subtle but unmistakable collision. It wasn’t chaotic enough to draw widespread attention, but it was just disruptive enough to ensure the interaction couldn’t be ignored. Then, with the flair of a seasoned performer, Cyrena gasped and staggered slightly, feigning an injury to her foot.

“Oh!” she exclaimed dramatically, placing a hand on Carter’s arm for balance as her other hand shot to her heel. “My shoe! My poor, beautiful shoe.” She glanced down at her towering stiletto, as though it were a grievous casualty of war, before fixing her gaze sharply on Colette’s companion. “You—ow, you bear!” She smacked him lightly on the arm, though her touch lingered just long enough to suggest her displeasure was laced with something far more playful. Her emerald-green eyes sparkled with amusement as she looked him up and down.

“I don’t know if I’m more upset about my foot or my shoe,” she continued, pouting just enough to make her point. Then her lips curved into a sly smile, the full force of her charisma directed at Colette’s dark and commanding companion. “You may make it up to me by offering…” she paused, as though considering her options, her voice dripping with playful entitlement, “…to help me to a seat.”

Without waiting for an answer, Cyrena extended her hand toward him, transferring her weight from Carter to Zixin, the gesture both daring and disarming. “Unless, of course, you’d rather leave a lady injured and unattended on a dance floor. Surely not someone with your manners,” she added, her tone teasing, but just sharp enough to bait him.