The Imperial Gardens were a labyrinth of manicured hedges, weeping willows, and shadows deep enough to hide a thousand sins.
Kaia loved them immediately.
She found a secluded stone bench tucked behind a statue of a weeping nymph—a bit dramatic for her taste, but it offered excellent cover from the ballroom windows. The distant strains of a waltz floated through the cool night air, sounding muffled and insignificant compared to the pounding of her own heart.
"Finally," she breathed, the word turning into a white puff of mist.
She glanced left, then right. The coast was clear.
With a practiced motion that would have given her mother a stroke, Kaia hiked up the layers of her pale blue muslin skirt. The cool air bit at her legs, but she didn't care. Her fingers fumbled with the lace of her garter until they closed around the cold metal of the flask.
She pulled it free, unscrewed the cap, and took a long, burning swallow.
The whiskey was cheap, fiery, and absolutely perfect. It seared a path down her throat, melting the knot of tension that had been sitting in her chest since she put on the corset. She let out a contented sigh, wiping her mouth with the back of her gloved hand.
"That," a deep voice rumbled from the darkness, "is remarkably unladylike."
Kaia froze.
She didn't scream. She didn't drop the flask. She was a Taryn, and Taryns did not startle like frightened rabbits. Instead, she slowly lowered her skirt—keeping the flask concealed in the folds of the fabric—and turned her head.
A figure stepped out from the shadow of a cypress tree.
He was tall. Impossibly tall. The moonlight caught the edge of a golden mask that obscured the upper half of his face, but it did nothing to hide the sharp, devastating line of his jaw or the mouth that was currently curled into a smirk that felt dangerous.
He wore the black velvet of the court, but he wore it with an ease that suggested he would be just as comfortable wearing nothing at all.
"And spying from the bushes is the height of gentlemanly behavior?" Kaia shot back, her voice steady despite the adrenaline spiking in her veins.
The stranger chuckled—a low, rich sound that vibrated through the stone bench. "I wasn't spying. I was admiring the view. It isn't often one sees a debutante smuggle liquor in her undergarments with such... military precision."
He stepped closer. The moonlight illuminated his hair—a pale, sun-kissed gold that looked like a halo. It was an absurd contrast to the predatory way he moved.
Kaia narrowed her eyes behind her silver mask. "You're going to report me."
"To whom? The Dowagers?" The stranger stopped a few feet away, leaning casually against the weeping nymph statue. "I think they would die of shock. It would be a massacre."
"Good point," Kaia said, relaxing slightly. She held up the flask. "Want some? It's terrible."
The stranger paused. For a second, he seemed genuinely surprised. Then, he moved.
He didn't just walk; he prowled. In two strides, he crossed the distance between them. He didn't take the flask. Instead, he reached out, his hand encased in a stark white silk glove, and tilted her chin up.
The touch was electric. Even through the silk, she felt the heat of his fingers.
"You are bold," he murmured, his thumb brushing against her bottom lip. "Most women in this court would have fainted by now."
"I'm not most women," Kaia whispered. Her heart was hammering against her ribs, but not from fear. "And you aren't a very good gentleman."
"No," he agreed, his voice dropping an octave. "I'm really not."
He released her chin and stepped back, but his gaze remained heavy, pressing against her like a physical weight. He reached into his coat pocket and produced a small silver case. With a flick of his thumb, he produced a flame and lit a thin, dark cheroot.
The scent of tobacco and clove filled the space between them, mixing with the sharp tang of her whiskey. It was a heady, intoxicating blend.
"Why are you out here?" he asked, exhaling a plume of smoke that twisted in the moonlight. "The future of the Empire is dancing inside."
"The future of the Empire is boring," Kaia said bluntly. She took another swig of whiskey, defiant. "They are all sheep. Bleating pleasantries and pretending they don't hate each other."
The stranger's eyes—hidden in the shadow of his mask—flashed. "And you? Are you a wolf?"
"I'm the black sheep," she corrected. "The one they try to hide in the back of the family portrait."
"Is that so?" He took a drag of the cheroot, watching her. He wasn't just looking at her face. He was looking at the way her pulse jumped in her throat. He was looking at the way her chest rose and fell against the tight bodice of her dress.
He was looking at her like he wanted to take her apart to see how she worked.
"And you?" Kaia asked, feeling the need to break the silence before it swallowed her whole. "Who are you supposed to be? A Golden Saint?"
She gestured to his hair, his perfect posture, the pristine white gloves.
The stranger smiled again, but this time, it wasn't a smirk. It was a hungry, sharp thing. He slowly brought his gloved hand to his mouth. With his teeth, he gripped the tip of the middle finger of the glove and pulled.
Kaia's breath hitched.
It was a slow, deliberate unveiling. He pulled the glove off, finger by finger, revealing a hand that was large, capable, and terrifyingly bare. He dropped the white silk onto the stone bench between them like a gauntlet.
"Tonight," he said, his voice rougher now, stripped of its courtly polish. "I am no one. And neither are you."
He stepped closer, crowding her space, the heat radiating off him making her dizzy.
"Tell me, little sheep," he whispered, leaning down until his lips were inches from her ear. "If I were to kiss you right now... would you scream?"
Kaia gripped the flask tighter. She should run. She should scream. He was a stranger. He was dangerous.
"No," she breathed, the truth slipping out before she could stop it.
"Good," he growled.
His hand—the bare one—slid around her waist, pulling her flush against him. The smell of tobacco, sandalwood, and male heat overwhelmed her senses.
"Because I have wanted to do this since I saw you lift your skirt."