At the...umpteenth masquerade ball hosted at the Dark Lady's palace (she'd honestly lost count), a masked man, debonair in black and gold, approached her and bowed.
"High Sorceress, pardon my intrusion, but I have heard many a rumor that I feel you must be made aware of."
"...Oh? Like what?"
He straightened. "My Lady, many say the werewolf became your partner for your grand power. He might be using you...for protection, for political power, for a seat on the throne... The options are endless."
"Well," she considered, "That's fine I suppose. I use him too, after all."
"Oh?"
"Of course. He is excellent company." She stepped closer and lowered her voice. "And lovely eye candy as well."
"Is that all?" the masked man asked, rather plaintively, ruining his mysterious air.
"You're also a wonderful dancer," she grinned, slipping her hand into his. "Now please dance with me so we can talk in private. I've missed you so much."