7 hours ago
There was little in this world that could truly distract Carter from watching Colette—especially her departure. But the presence of Ascendancy Brandon, of all people, managed to pull his attention. Carter generally found politics tiresome, a bloated theater of self-important men and women clamoring for control, though he made sure to keep just enough awareness to impress his contemporaries when conversation required it. Knowledge of the game was essential, even if playing it himself felt distasteful. But tonight was different, and for a moment, Carter allowed his curiosity to overtake him, watching the Ascendancy with cool detachment as Brandon spoke.
For a few minutes, Carter allowed himself to indulge in this mild diversion. But his focus shifted back as soon as he spotted Colette through the crowd. The sight of her, masked and elegant, brought a quiet tightness to his chest. She had been speaking with someone—whispering, in fact—her lips barely moving beneath the curve of her mask. The sight unsettled him, though he could hardly say why.
Colette had no business mingling with politicians. She was better than that. Her grace, her intelligence, her refinement—those things set her apart. She wasn’t like the rest of these people, hungry for power or validation. Or at least, she shouldn’t have been. And yet, here she was, whispering with the woman in red.
Carter’s frown deepened as he pieced together what little he’d learned so far. Guillaume had been irritatingly secretive about whose event they were attending, leaving Carter to scramble for context upon arrival. It hadn’t taken him long to connect the dots. The Vasilevs, of course. The family’s reputation preceded them, though Carter hadn’t bothered to familiarize himself with all the players since he never intended to stay in Moscow long enough to make the effort worth his while. He preferred precision in his knowledge, not overloading his mind with irrelevant details. Still, the woman in red was clearly a relation—likely a daughter—and her presence loomed larger than he’d anticipated. He didn’t like the way Colette deferred to her, lingering at her side like a shadow. Now whispers between them? He liked that even less.
Carter’s jaw tightened briefly, though he quickly composed himself. This wasn’t the time to act rashly, especially not here. Still, the discontent settled in the pit of his stomach, and he turned away before his thoughts betrayed him further.
His distraction didn’t last long. A woman approached him then, her movement catching his eye. She glided toward him like a ribbon on a breeze—graceful, quiet, and enigmatic. Her dress shimmered faintly under the lights, and though her mask concealed her eyes, her interest was apparent, lingering on him just a moment too long.
He offered her a polite nod, his posture relaxed but measured. He didn’t recognize her, though something about her presence suggested she might recognize him. That possibility tugged at his pride just enough to make him curious. Was she admiring him? Or had her knowledge of him preceded her arrival? Either way, Carter wasn’t one to let such things go unaddressed.
“You must work for the Privilege?” he asked smoothly, his voice low enough to avoid drawing attention from the surrounding crowd. The last thing he wanted was to stand out too much, not when blending in offered so much more freedom.
For a few minutes, Carter allowed himself to indulge in this mild diversion. But his focus shifted back as soon as he spotted Colette through the crowd. The sight of her, masked and elegant, brought a quiet tightness to his chest. She had been speaking with someone—whispering, in fact—her lips barely moving beneath the curve of her mask. The sight unsettled him, though he could hardly say why.
Colette had no business mingling with politicians. She was better than that. Her grace, her intelligence, her refinement—those things set her apart. She wasn’t like the rest of these people, hungry for power or validation. Or at least, she shouldn’t have been. And yet, here she was, whispering with the woman in red.
Carter’s frown deepened as he pieced together what little he’d learned so far. Guillaume had been irritatingly secretive about whose event they were attending, leaving Carter to scramble for context upon arrival. It hadn’t taken him long to connect the dots. The Vasilevs, of course. The family’s reputation preceded them, though Carter hadn’t bothered to familiarize himself with all the players since he never intended to stay in Moscow long enough to make the effort worth his while. He preferred precision in his knowledge, not overloading his mind with irrelevant details. Still, the woman in red was clearly a relation—likely a daughter—and her presence loomed larger than he’d anticipated. He didn’t like the way Colette deferred to her, lingering at her side like a shadow. Now whispers between them? He liked that even less.
Carter’s jaw tightened briefly, though he quickly composed himself. This wasn’t the time to act rashly, especially not here. Still, the discontent settled in the pit of his stomach, and he turned away before his thoughts betrayed him further.
His distraction didn’t last long. A woman approached him then, her movement catching his eye. She glided toward him like a ribbon on a breeze—graceful, quiet, and enigmatic. Her dress shimmered faintly under the lights, and though her mask concealed her eyes, her interest was apparent, lingering on him just a moment too long.
He offered her a polite nod, his posture relaxed but measured. He didn’t recognize her, though something about her presence suggested she might recognize him. That possibility tugged at his pride just enough to make him curious. Was she admiring him? Or had her knowledge of him preceded her arrival? Either way, Carter wasn’t one to let such things go unaddressed.
“You must work for the Privilege?” he asked smoothly, his voice low enough to avoid drawing attention from the surrounding crowd. The last thing he wanted was to stand out too much, not when blending in offered so much more freedom.