They piled into Meg's car and drove to the Fortunato Hotel in the ritzy downtown district. After showing their tickets to the staff in the lobby, they followed the signs to a grand ballroom floored in gold-veined white marble and ringed by a high mezzanine draped with hundreds of scarlet roses.
It was silly, but Theo felt like he'd entered another world. Even more than when he fought in an arena, because at least he knew what to do there. Here, he could only stare at the partygoers cavorting about in their masks and fancy costumes like guests at a vampire wedding, and wondered how the hell an emo kid like him had ever landed here.
A series of bright flashes sent him stumbling. Searching for its source, he saw a bunch of photographers in ordinary clothes intently snapping away. 'Right, get it together, Theo.' This was still the real world, and those vampire wedding guests were just cosplayers.
As for what those photographers were shooting –
"Oh!" Sam let out a little gasp. At that moment the photographers parted, allowing a slender figure to step forward from the fray.
His identity was unmistakable – after all, his mask had roses on it. A fresh rose decorated the side of his head as well the front of his coat, which was made of wine-red brocade with a subtle rose pattern. Sticking admirably to theme as always.
Yet none of the Instagram pictures had prepared Theo for seeing Michel Rose in motion. Silver ringlets cascaded down his back, swishing with every step, while stiletto-heeled boots gave his walk a swaying, subtly sensuous quality. As he approached, heads turned and whispers fluttered.
A click of heels beside him snapped Theo's attention back to Sam; she had taken a step backward, her hands covering her mouth. The little of her face Theo could see seemed ashen.
Concern flooded him, swiftly replacing every trace of awe from Michel Rose's entrance. "Sam, are you okay?"
Sam nodded, but the brown eyes behind her mask seemed dangerously wet.
Theo's heart pounded. "Are you sure?"
"It's just...just...have you ever seen someone so beautiful you can't help but cry?"
"Uh." Theo stared at Sam, feeling like he'd been walloped in the back of the head.
"What?" Sam squeaked, indignant.
"And here I thought you were, I don't know, getting bad flashbacks or something. Thanks for making me worry!" Theo huffed.
"I don't know, I...." Sam scratched her head. "I do feel...something? I don't know. It's really distant, but there's a kind of...tightness...in my chest? The same way it feels when I think back about that time. It's weird, but I don't know what it means."
Theo sighed. So either Michel Rose really was a red herring or Sam had forgotten too much to be useful.
"Theo." A little behind him, Zenith tensed. His voice was low, urgent, barely audible above the madly clicking cameras.
"What is it?" Theo turned toward him.
"Look. Behind him...."
Confused, Theo looked back at Michel Rose. The model had stopped to talk to a woman whose truly outrageous bustle blocked a nearly three-foot radius around her, but behind it Theo just barely managed to catch a glimpse of the other people with Michel.
He'd assumed they were his friends or fellow models and most looked the part, but something about the one standing immediately behind his right shoulder stood out to Theo. At first he thought it was because he was dressed plainer than the others in a regular tux, his only concession to the occasion a black domino mask. Then he turned his head, giving Theo a good view of his short ponytail and strong profile.
The breath froze in his lungs.
No way. He was just seeing things – the man was too far away – but Theo knew. He already knew. Even if it had been years, he could never mistake Victor no matter how great the distance. And his most recent memories of Victor burned in his mind like a fresh brand, memories of a black-armored figure whose build and movements matched the man in the domino mask perfectly.
The pieces of the puzzle snapped in place. Victor here, with Michel Rose. He didn't have the complete picture yet, but he could no longer deny the basic truth that it revealed.
"Theo?" Sam whispered. "What's wrong?"
Of course. She hadn't met Victor yet. Theo ought to answer her –
Victor turned his head, and his eyes locked with Theo's.
A jolt raced down Theo's spine. If it weren't for Zenith's strong grip around his arm, he would have fallen. When he looked back up, he saw Victor was no longer looking his direction.
Maybe he had imagined it. But deep in his heart, he knew Victor had seen him and recognized him behind the mask. He could still feel the pressure of Victor's gaze, as cold as his Levia.
His throat had gone dry; his knees trembled. The ballroom seemed to pitch up and down around him.
"Theo?" Sam's voice, high with worry, sounded so far away. "Seriously, you're scaring me...you've gone super pale."
"So I wasn't imagining that, Sir Zenith," Darian said, nodding at her knight. "It really was Victor Hua. Which means...."
She gave her walking stick a casual flip before marching forward, her strides long and purposeful. Zenith cried out, "My liege!" but she kept on going. Others had started to notice her too – hard not to when she was heading straight toward Michel Rose.
A photographer approached her, looking nervous; Darian waved him off. Now she was within a few yards of Michel. When the woman with the impressive bustle nudged Michel's shoulder, he turned to face Darian.
Zenith hissed in a sharp breath and his grip tightened on Theo's arm. Biting down a complaint, Theo instead reached for his hand and squeezed.
"Good evening, Michel Rose," Darian declared, tucking her walking stick under her arm and extending her other hand. "Would you care to take the first dance with me?"
"Huh?" Theo blurted, but it didn't matter because the entire ballroom had gasped along with him.
The bustled woman rounded on Darian, hands on her hips. "Excuse me, who do you think you are?"
Unintimidated, Darian continued holding out her hand. Next to Michel Rose in his high heels, she looked absurdly tiny, but even from this distance Theo sensed the proud authority radiating from every line of her body. And he was sure Michel, and all the others in the ballroom, saw it too.
Well, except for the bustled woman, who kept sputtering indignantly. Michel wasn't paying her any heed, just examining Darian with his head tilted to the side.
"A bold lad, aren't you?" he said. "I have to admit I'm intrigued. May I have the honor of knowing your name?"
"Hm, I don't think so. I don't tell just anyone my name, after all. If you want it…." Darian leaned up toward Michel as sharing a secret with him. But in the silence that had fallen, her whisper rolled across the entire ballroom.
"You're going to have to work for it."