He snorts, tapping me on the tip of my nose. “I’m not saying anything else. You wanted to go to this masquerade so badly, so let’s go.”
I narrow my eyes. “Alex, that’s really ominous.”
“Hush,” he says, leaning down to pick up my mask. “Come here and let me put this on you.”
I want to ask more questions, but I know it’s pointless. When Alex decides he’s going to keep a secret, there is no amount of complaining that I can do to get an answer out of him. He’s a steel trap. I go and turn my back on him, closing my eyes as he places the mask on my face. The metal on the sides is cold, but his fingers are warm as he loops the silk ties behind my head and ties them, drifting his fingers over the skin of my neck and jawline when he finishes. I turn to face him and my eyes flutter open to meet his pupils, dilated and dark.
“Alex,” I murmur. His lips are so close to mine that I can feel his breath, and I can’t stop myself from canting my head sideways and leaning in, intent on kissing him. At first, he seems to mirror my movements, moving closer to me, but at the last second he pulls away and my lips land on his cheek and he steps away.
“I said no kissing, and I mean it,” he tells me, jaw clenched.
I feel like screaming. I was so close! Alex seems determined to make me miserable, holding me at arm’s length constantly. I’d skip the damned masquerade if he would just take me to bed.
He must see the frustration on my face, and for once he seems to take no joy in it. I get the feeling he’d like to take me to bed, too. We could pull the heavy curtains closed and take our time reacquainting each other with each other's bodies… but no. Stubborn Alex and his ironclad self-control had won again.
Resigned, I take Alex’s arm as he offers it, and we depart. My heels make no noise on the carpeted hallway, but as soon as we make it to the marble foyer that leads to the docks, the clicking of the metal stiletto fills the awkward silence between us. Alex reaches into the coat closet, pulling out two lengths of dark fabric. One of them, I notice, is the darkest midnight blue I’ve ever seen, and the other is pitch black.
“Which do you want?” he asks.
“What are they?” I thought they were blankets at first, but Alex unfurls one and I get a good look at it. It’s an honest to God cloak––with hood and all! I’d seen no one wear one in real life.
“Blue,” I say quickly, and he throws it over my shoulders like a matador’s muleta. The arch of fabric settles on my shoulders, and I’m instantly warmer than I had been seconds before. The cloak, made of wool, is thick and soft, and when I close it in the front it overlaps itself significantly, hiding my coquettish gown completely. I feel mysterious and seductive, a masked vixen that no one recognizes, but everyone desires.
Alex dons his own black cloak and his bronze mask, fitting it to his face expertly––He’s clearly done this before. I feel like we are two phantoms, walking down the dock to our boat waiting in the darkness. A light fog hangs over the water, and instead of the loud taxi boat from earlier there is a silent gondola, gondolier just as silent as we board, and Alex tells him the destination.
My heart is racing. It’s finally time! I’m itching to discover Alex’s secrets and get a glimpse of his life before we got together. I wasn’t nervous before, but Alex’s warning about not getting attached to my dress and the sly looks he keeps shooting me have me on edge. He’s hiding something.
Well, I’ll know all the intricacies of the masquerade shortly. For right now, I focus on how brilliant the city looks at night. Lights hang like stars around Venice, twice as beautiful as the water reflects their image back. The fog and the ethereal lighting give the canal a dream-like vibe that I’m totally in love with.
Alex must have noticed my wandering eyes because he drapes his arm over my shoulders and pulls me close. I don’t fail to notice that he’s let me be close to him on every ride through the city, and it warms my heart a little. It’s such a mundane, domestic action that lets me know that, even if he insists differently, he still cherishes me as his wife in his mind.
“Are you excited?” he asks, voice deep and hushed.
“Yes. Mostly curious. I’ve never been to a masquerade before. How are they different from other balls besides the masks?”
Alex chuckles, squeezing me closer. “You’re about to find out. Though…it might just be this masquerade that is so…off beat.”
I purse my lips but remain quiet. I will not take his bait and beg him for answers.
“Do you know the history of the masquerade, wife?”
His question takes me totally off guard. “No, except from what I’ve seen in the Phantom of the Opera number.”
He’s running his knuckles up and down my bare arm under my cloak as he speaks. “It’s actually from ancient Egypt. Most people assume it’s from Victorian Europe, but they’re mistaken.”
“Really?” My interest is piqued.
“Mmhm,” he pauses, gathering the story before he continues. “It was originally a festival to celebrate the Egyptian goddess of the moon, Isis. Her worshippers would dress as animals and other gods and goddesses, parading down to the river to wish the departing sailors good luck.”
“Wow. That’s amazing. I never would have guessed.”
“It’s true. Isis was both a queen and,” he lowers his hand down to rest over my belly, “the patron goddess of motherhood.”
A goddess, queen, and mother. Why don’t we revere figures like that anymore? I place my hand over his hand on my belly, too eager to fully relax. There is a chill in the night air, and I wrap my cloak tightly around my body.
Alex stands, sighting something in the distance. It’s a building. Enormous, domed, with tall spires and made from brick like many of the others. The windows are in recessed arches, but instead of the white and yellow lights that lit the surrounding buildings, the lights illuminating this building are blood red.
Great. More ominous signs.
“This place is a little freaky,” I comment.
He laughs sardonically. “Just you wait.”
“Eccoci qui,” the boat driver announces as we stop in front of a deck.
Alex puts a hand on mine, turning my attention to him. “Remember—whatever happens inside, it belongs to the past,” he tells me, his tone more serious than before. “I’m no longer associated with any of this.”
I nod, ogling at everything as he helps me from the boat. Most of the other palazzos have shorter docks that butt up against the stone street, but this one is different. It’s long and winding, lit by flame torches in even intervals. What’s even stranger are the guards posted between the torches, wearing the same long cloaks as us and featureless white masks. It gives me the serious heebie-jeebies to look at them as Alex leads me down the dock, so I try to do my best to ignore them. We finally reach silver double doors that are twice my height and carved with mysterious scrawling and symbols that flow into the intricate decorative swirls. There are two guards posted on either side of the door, and as we grow near they pull the doors open with a creaky sound.
Alex looks down at me. “Last chance.”
I consider taking him up on the offer to leave, but I’ve come this far. It’d be foolish to turn away now. I straighten my posture and nod. Alex sighs heavily and leads me inside.