When the Empress appoints Irina's father as the new Governor of Transylvania, the young Duchess is swept away from her glamorous life at court in Vienna to the mysterious "land beyond the forest" where danger lurks and superstition reigns.
When a pe...
Ops! Esta imagem não segue as nossas directrizes de conteúdo. Para continuares a publicar, por favor, remova-a ou carrega uma imagem diferente.
Irina blinked at the man, surprised that he didn't seem bothered by the fact that he'd been caught gawking at her. Although, gawking was far too clumsy a word for the way he was looking at her. His gaze was thorough; he examined her through his mask like a painting, admiring and analysing every stitch and pore.
There was something altogether dark and aristocratic about him; he was charming in an almost elusive and enigmatic way – a charm he seemed to wear like perfume. It poured from him, from the smirk on his lips and the way he was leaning his body against the wood panelling – broad at the shoulders and tapered at the waist – to the way he'd crossed one black, riding boot over the other. Casual, confident.
He wore a black coat and waistcoat with elaborate silver embroidery hemming the cuffs and button holes, and yet, the finish was a little rough; the coat was old – the sort of thing the Duke might have worn in his youth – and he'd even forgone wearing a necktie, preferring instead to let his shirt collar sit upright and open around his pale neck. His dark hair was long enough to be gathered back but not long enough to be neatly tied, with liquorice black strands falling loosely around the mask that he wore – perched on high cheekbones. Dark hair peppered his pointed jaw and grew sparsely around his curling, smirking lips.
Irina swallowed a familiar lump in her throat. He reminded her of someone. Or rather he reminded her of a feeling. Desire – dangerous and indomitable. After all, it wasn't the first time she'd fallen for a masked man; memories of that night often echoed within her, rekindled by a passing thought. Thoughts of candlelit cloisters, a string of black pearls and the soft but assertive caress of a stranger.
She'd certainly learned from that night; that mistake. This man was probably the town libertine looking to lead the governor's daughter astray. He certainly looked the sort... athletic, aristocratic, attractive – albeit a little rough around the edges.
"Oh, Sparrow!"
Irina gulped for breath – as if waking from a dream – and tore her attention away to Carmelia tapping her arm.
"Your father's calling you over," she told her, pointing at the Duke who was waving from the other side of the room.
"...So it would seem," Irina replied, chancing a final glance at the masked man who'd been staring at her – only to find that he'd vanished. She frowned, confused, "...Uh, if you'll excuse me for a moment," she told Carmelia as she nodded her head and then walked over to join her father.
He was still deep in conversation with his new circle of friends, and as Irina stepped alongside him she glanced at Prince Lupesci, who was eyeing her with interest.
"–Well, yes, quite. I'm very sorry to hear you haven't caught the monster responsible yet," the Duke said. "Four women, you say? All dead?"
The prince nodded. "All," he replied solemnly.
The Duke shook his head. "Terrible business," he said. "Nevertheless, the Empress, I'm sure, will be very pleased to hear there's a loyal group of men here devoted to ridding the place of such terrible violence. We should discuss how to go about hunting the devil responsible."
