STRINGS BETWEEN US

CHAPTER OF FIFTY-FOUR: MASKS, MOONLIGHT, AND THE PRESIDENT WHO STILL LOOKED BACK

I didn't care.

My gown shimmered with every step. Petals caught the light like frost thawing into morning. My mask gleamed-crystal and gold, feathers drifting like breath on cold glass.

I scanned the garden.

Students moved through topiary mazes and cobblestone paths, laughter echoing behind their masks. It was beautiful chaos.

But I wasn't looking for them.

I was looking for-

Him.

And then, through the arc of ivy-laced trellises and candlelight haze...

I saw him.

He stood beneath a silver-drenched tree, its branches bowed like they were afraid to touch him.

Midnight-black suit. Silver-threaded lapels that shimmered like broken snow. A steel-blue mask, sharp and fractured, like something beautiful half-destroyed.

And at his throat-

A snowflake pin. Gleaming.

Split in half.

A message. A memory. A promise only I would understand.

Even masked. Even across the courtyard. I knew it was him.

Not the President.

The boy from last summer-the one who sat beside me on a cliff and listened to everything I never said aloud.

He didn't move. Didn't blink. Didn't breathe.

But I felt it.

The way the air changed. The way the garden stilled.

And just as I took a step forward-

Someone stepped in. A council member, whispering in his ear. KD turned to them, jaw clenched. Reluctant.

He gave me one last glance before disappearing into the winding garden path.

Of course. High Chamber duties. Grand Illumina Night was their event.

"You know," a familiar voice drawled beside me, "your boyfriend just got stolen."

I didn't have to look.

Xythe.

Midnight navy suit. Silver dagger motifs hidden like secrets in the seams. A short capelet edged in Ardent gold. His half-mask-sleek and silver-curved sharp over his left eye. The calculating one.

Even at a masquerade, he still looked like he was ready to either waltz or end a revolution.
Probably both.

I groaned. "Yeah. Right in front of me. How lucky."

He laughed. And not the amused, cocky kind. It was softer than I remembered-like he wasn't wearing a weapon behind his grin this time.

He offered his arm.

I stared at it. At him.

Then took it.

We walked without speaking.

Past glowing orbs. Past laughing couples. Down a cobblestone path lined with silver-touched wildflowers, until the music faded behind us.

A garden away from the party. And yet the weight between us felt louder than any orchestra.

He stopped first.

"Elle," he said.

And just that-one word-stopped my breath.