The Masquerade
3
Astra’s mind accelerated, half‑ford observations knitting themselves into a pattern.
The sa violet smoke coiled around Thomas, exactly as in the leaked footage. That alone confird it: Thomas wasn’t in control. He answered to sothing else, sothing he called “My Lord” with far too much reverence.
This entity was obviously not human. What wasn’t obvious was motive.
Why plant a proxy in a Senate race?
If the aim were simple influence, there were easier routes. Why choose Thomas, irrelevant until his sudden, friction‑free ascent? The creature had even risked exposure to boost him.
Unless the Senate seat was only a stepping‑stone.
A splash of movent broke her train of thought. Across the zzanine, she spotted Athena and Theo.
They passed a wine-soaked carpet and a splintered champagne glass. A manager stood tight-lipped while the server stumbled through excuses.
“You see, it’s all about chem-istry.” The man wrung his hands nervously. “White fabric and red wine. They’re destined for each other. Or for tragedy. Like star-crossed lovers!”
Polite chuckles. A twitch from the manager’s eye.
Astra didn’t get to see the fallout when Theo and Athena ca over. She layered another magical barrier around them.
Theo got straight to it. “You’re certain?”
Athena’s gaze was sharper. “The purple smoke. Around… him?”
Astra nodded. “Still want to confirm it yourself?”
“Yes,” Athena said. “We need to trace the origin. Rush it and the entity could detach—”
“Leaving him hollow,” Theo finished. “Like Tiffany.”
“He knows what Athena can do,” Astra warned. “He’ll be ready.”
“I felt it already. It’s there,” Athena said. “We observe, confirm, then strike. The Senate race doesn’t matter. The investigation does.”
Theo weighed the risk. Then: “All right. Keep the act alive. Signal us when it’s ti.”
“I’ll stay here, keep him talking.” Astra dropped the barrier. “Besides, he’s made a long-term commitnt to that wine glass.”
Theo offered a quick smile, then opened the balcony door. Cold air rolled in, carrying twilight painted violet and silver. Thomas leaned on the rail, swirling wine as if ti ant nothing.
When he turned, the smile was already in place, as if he had been expecting them all along.
“Lady Van Nassau, Lord Whitlock. To what do I owe the pleasure?” He glanced at the darkening sky. “Surely not the weather.”
Athena led. “Mr Blackwood, may we have a word?”
“No titles among friends.” He lifted her hand to his lips. “Call Thomas. We have t often enough.”
Athena smiled, just enough to keep things friendly. “Then it’s Athena. Anything else will feel terribly one-sided.”
“Athena it is. Apologies for vanishing earlier,” Thomas said. “Herding this many egos is exhausting. I’m sure you understand.”
Athena withdrew her hand gracefully. “True. But the right company can be… rather refreshing when carefully selected.”
Astra caught the cue: Athena was already loosening Thomas’s defenses in preparation for a deeper invasion of his thoughts.
Thomas’s smile wavered slightly. His eyes shifted to Theo, who stepped forward.
“Theomund Whitlock,” Theo said plainly.
Thomas drew out the na with mild amusent. “Ah. Lord Whitlock. A pleasure.”
They shook hands. Theo’s knuckles whitened, a shimr danced around their palms. Not a greeting, a test.
Thomas did not flinch. He matched the pressure, then let go only when Theo did. A faint ripple lingered in the air, and Theo had his answer.
Thomas was compromised.
There was clearly more to Theo than Astra had initially assud. Still, as the heir to one of Silverkeep’s most powerful archduchies, it was no surprise he was quick at political power play.
“I hear Silverkeep’s been lively lately.” Thomas raised his glass, despite Theo and Athena standing empty-handed. “Power shifts, changing alliances. Must keep things interesting for soone in your position, Lord Whitlock.”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve kept out of it,” Theo replied. “My studies take my ti.”
“Unusual for a Whitlock,” Thomas mused. “Knights and icecraft are your heritage. One would expect training, not reading. Especially so far from ho.”
There it was again: another probe. Looking for weak points.
To everyone’s surprise, Theo removed his mask. His silver eyes held a new clarity.
“I’ve co to believe knighthood is an anachronism,” he said. “Perhaps that’s why my father sent to St. Kevin’s. To learn what the future actually needs.”
“The knight’s honour… it’s a fine legacy,” Theo continued. “Until it becos an excuse to never change.”
Athena blinked. Astra noted the change. It always struck her as odd when seeing Theo fight: chivalrous, disciplined, rigid. Traits bred into the Whitlock line. But now he sounded… transford?
Thomas’s eyes glead. “So would call that heresy.”
“Others call it progress,” Theo answered.
Thunder cracked, pressure climbing.
“St Kelvin’s promotes broader thinking,” Athena reclaid the conversation. “It frees him from old mistakes.”
“Of course,” Thomas said, taking a sip of wine. “How could I forget? My daughter once studied there.”
“We all regret what happened,” Athena replied, chin lifted.
“That unfortunate accident,” Thomas said, shrugging. “I must apologise for my outburst then. I hope we have moved past it.”
“Your anger was understandable,” Athena said, gold eyes locking onto his.
Thomas inclined his head. “Your grace is noted.”
To casual ears, it sounded like diplomacy. But Astra knew better. Athena was letting her Gift slip deeper. Unlike Adrian’s flashy displays of voice-bound power, Athena’s magic was subtle, silent. She wasn’t just observing Thomas. She was unmaking him, slipping through ntal barriers, peeling back layers, reaching for the core of his thoughts.
Even his mory.
A glass clinked nearby.
Astra’s eyes darted briefly to a cleaner at the edge of the room, hastily sweeping up the shattered glass. It looked normal, after all, she was the one who had caused the wine spill. And the server, whether he knew it or not, had provided an excellent distraction.
Her eyes narrowed.
Was it a little too convenient?
Her mind drifted back to the manager’s words, just before Athena and Theo had approached her:
You aren’t supposed to be here.
Not supposed to be here? Because this floor was private?
Since when did staff deliver drinks to this level? The zzanine was reserved for private conversations: senior delegates, major donors, high-stakes diplomacy.
It could’ve been an error. A newcor unfamiliar with protocol.
Or it wasn’t.
She didn’t like convenient coincidences. Especially not tonight.
Astra reached outward with her senses. Sothing dark had lingered here. Not Thomas. Sothing else.
She muttered a curse under her breath. She’d been too focused on him. And missed the second variable.
Where was that server?
Astra turned toward the stairs, ready to track them down. Then, she froze.
Was this all ant to mislead her? To pull her away from Thomas?
She’d missed sothing. Sothing big.
The race didn’t matter. Not really. Thomas already had the upper hand. The odds were in his favour.
So what was the endga?
Did Athena and Theo have a part to play?
If Thomas knew the full extent of their powers, then—
Damn it.
The clock on the wall read 6:55.
Five minutes until Thomas took the stage.
Five minutes to stop whatever was about to happen.
Or walk straight into it.
Trap.
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