Elena and Jake chatted about things they were doing before they had met, and what had happened over the month. They also discussed what exactly their plan was for the ball and how they would act.
"Do you know the guests specifically?" Jake asked as he rubbed his chin.
"No, sadly, I don't, I do know that we will make a big scene though." Elena chuckled. Thinking of how people would react seeing Lady Falmil, known for being reclusive to all, be with a random person.
"You mean you, I am just a random no one. Do they have masks? Usually, they have masks you can use, right?" Jake asked as he shifted positions in the carriage.
The carriage was small, had only enough room for 4 people to fit comfortably, 2 on each side. The seats were not luxurious nor the cobblestone path causing every once in a while for the entire thing to shake. But both used carriages enough to be used to the random shaking.
Elena nodded, "Yes, they do have masks. All balls have masks."
Elena and Jake felt the carriage stop as the driver knocked on the wooden slide that could open to tell the driver directions. Jake and Elena looked at each other and giggled, for what would come.
The driver opened the door so Elena could come out, but jumped in surprise to see a tall man with messy black hair, with wolf ears and tail in a neatly dressed suit, who popped out right after her.
Jake hopped down and said, "You know I could have helped you get out, my lady," holding out his arm so she could wrap her arm around his. She accepted and shook her head. "You're always too polite, Lamore."
Both of them chuckled at their act as they went to the Dalfor mansion. It wasn't as opulent as Elena's, but it was certainly impressive, with marble columns holding an overhang on the front steps that led to a wide open door. The building was made out of granite and other rich materials, giving it a certain, fancy, rich air.
As they entered the halls, red carpet underneath them, Jake quickly spotted a pile of masks and grabbed one with ease as they passed by and put it on. Luckily, no one near the front door, who were not many or important people he knew of, saw his face.
Elena also helped him with the many stares she was getting, but she didn't allow them to unnerve her. As she held her head high and looked over at Jake, they looked down the hall to see 2 men, clearly bodyguards, protecting the ballroom.
They stopped in front of them, and the bodyguards gave a bow, recognizing who she was, and one of them said in a calm voice. "Lady Falmil, a wonderful surprise to have you attend… along with your guest."
"Thank you, I would like my name to be announced as well as my partner, Mr. Lamore." Both she and Jake agreed to have his character of Lamore announced when they entered. A guest, when attending a party, could have their presence announced or not.
Both guards nodded as one opened the doors, and as Jake and Elena entered, Jake gave a curt nod to the one opening the door. The other followed them in and cleared his voice. "Lady Falmil and Mr. Lamore have arrived at the Dalfian Ball." The guard's voice rang out like thunder, Jake having to flatten his ears to dull the man's voice.
The ball went silent for a moment as people recognized Elena and her name. The guard quickly bowed and returned to his position on the other side of the door.
Eyes locked onto Elena's form and deep red dress, her beauty making her form even more impressive, she had no mask on, unlike her partner or guest, Lamore, who was a lycanthrope wolf. His messy black hair and wolf ears poked out as he wore a black suit with a dark blue button-up shirt.
Jake's presence had completely changed, Elena had noticed, before he gave off excitement and a sense of mischief, but now, he was impenetrable to read. She had seen him like this before; this was Jake's true power, able to make himself like an iron wall, while able to guide people's chatter into his own realm, where he ruled.
His golden eyes, which seemed to be made of warm liquid gold, were now cold and solid like solid gold itself.
They made their way together down one of the curved stairs that led to the ground floor, many eyes on her but just as many on the mysterious Lamore.
Jake's ears easily picked up their murmurs and questions, "Who is he?" "Do you know his name?" "No." "How is he with Lady Falmil?" "Do you know how many noble houses she has ruined?" "I think 7, right?"
Jake could only give a slight smirk, but his gaze looked around the ballroom, picking out the individuals from a long list he had collected. Liam Nath, Gran Torris, Helen Niel, Derrick Niel, Mike Scent, Borris Dale, and more.
He leaned over to whisper into her ear; many eyes watched him, but he didn't mind. "There are a lot of crooks here that I recognize. About 15, or so." Elena almost broke her calm demeanor, hearing how many people in the room had dirt on them.
There were over 100 people in the room, but still 15? 15 that Jake could easily recognize? "That's quite a few... Do you think that we can scare all of them straight, Lamore?" She said, slightly leaning into him, which caught many people's attention, which she wanted.
Jake's mask hid his face well as she looked up at him. It was black and had intricate swirls like vines made of gold. It covered the top half of his face, from his nose to his hair.
"I do believe so, we can, my lady, but would you mind if we went and did a dance?" Jake asked, as her hand slipped into his, she nodded, letting him take her to where people watched others dance.
They went to different balls beforehand, but each time, they never really interacted with each other, but they had done a few dances in he past together.
The masked man carried himself with quiet dignity, his every motion deliberate yet fluid. Messy strands of black hair framed the curve of his mask, and from beneath it, the faint twitch of wolf ears betrayed the creature hidden beneath his refined veneer. Clad in a black suit and a dark blue button-up, he looked both regal and untamed — a shadow of civility drawn over something ancient.
His partner, Lady Falmil, moved as if the music itself flowed through her. Her red hair shimmered under the golden chandeliers, catching glints of amber that mirrored her eyes. The layered folds of her dress — deep red melting into dark violet — swept around her legs like ripples of silk and smoke. The crimson sash at her waist danced with each turn, and the blue gems that clasped her mantle glimmered like captured starlight.
Together, they glided across the floor, steps measured yet effortless, their rhythm speaking in a wordless cadence of trust and familiarity. She followed his lead without hesitation, her movements guided by the subtle pressure of his hand at her waist, the faint brush of his touch. Around them, whispers rose — admiration, curiosity, speculation. Who was the masked man who moved with such grace?
But to the two entwined in motion, the world beyond the dance had vanished. All that remained was the melody, the echo of breath between them, and the silent pull that kept their hearts moving in perfect time.
"Who is he?" Mike Scent murmured, gaze fixed on the pair gliding across the marble floor below.
Borris Dale folded his arms, a faint smirk touching his lips. "Whoever he is, it seems he's finally managed to catch the Fox of Falmil."
Mike's brow furrowed as he stroked his beard. "He's a lycanthrope... and a wolf, no doubt about it. Are there any noble houses with that bloodline?"
"Only the Danim house comes to mind," Borris replied, eyes narrowing. "But their kin are all fair-haired. That one's hair is black — too natural to be dyed."
The two men watched in silence for a moment longer, the music swelling beneath them.
"Then whoever he is," Mike added quietly, "he's not one of ours." Borris nodded his head in agreement.
Their dance came to a graceful end, the last note fading as they drew apart. Jake's golden eyes caught the light, gleaming beneath the mask. Both breathed softly, the rhythm of the dance still between them.
"That was exquisite, Lady Falmil," he said, his voice smooth, almost teasing. He stepped back and bowed, the motion deliberate — a display for the watching crowd.
Elena's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. "The pleasure was mine, Mr. Lamore," she replied, her tone rich with amusement at his theatrical manner.
He straightened, offering her his arm once more. "Shall we make our introductions, then?" he asked, voice low enough for her alone.
Her gaze flicked toward the gathered nobles, their laughter and wine masking whispers of corruption. "Yes," she murmured, eyes sharpening with purpose. "It's time the wolves joined the flock."
He smiled — just a hint of fang behind the charm. "Then let's give them something to fear."
Their first target was Gran Torris — a lesser noble, guilty of taking a few well-placed bribes. Small sins on paper, yet enough to let the rot in: drugs slipped quietly into the capital's veins under his watch.
Elena approached with practiced grace, her every step measured. "Good evening, Lord Torris," she greeted, her smile warm and effortless. Behind her stood Mr. Lamore, the masked lycanthrope, silent and still — a shadow made flesh. His presence alone drew unease; even among his own kin, he was a predator, one that didn't strike yet was always ready for one.
Torris's charm faltered the instant Jake's golden eyes met his. He cleared his throat, forcing a smile. "Ah, Lady Falmil… and your companion, Mr. Lamore, was it? A pleasure, of course. Your dance was quite the spectacle — the talk of the evening."
Elena returned the smile, though her eyes held something sharper. "Was it? I do enjoy when appearances leave an impression." She tilted her head slightly. "It's much like trade, isn't it, Lord Torris? A single slip, and what's meant to be contained finds its way into the wrong hands."
Gran Torris's smile wavered. His fingers twitched around his wineglass, the crimson liquid trembling under the ballroom lights. "Poison, my lady?" he asked with forced amusement. "Surely, you don't mean to imply—"
Jake's voice cut through the surrounding noise, low and even. "She rarely implies, Lord Torris. She observes."
The noble's throat bobbed. For a moment, the hum of nearby conversation faded beneath the weight of that tone — calm, unhurried, and dangerous. Torris forced a laugh, but it came out dry.
Elena tilted her head slightly, eyes bright and disarming. "Please, my lord, you mistake my meaning. I only speak in concern for the capital. It would be so very unfortunate if the wrong people were to think someone in your position had… relaxed their vigilance."
Jake stepped forward, not much, just enough for his shadow to brush Torris's shoes. His mask glinted faintly in the light — a silent reminder of the unknown.
Torris straightened, smile frozen in place. "Of course, Lady Falmil. You may rest assured my attention will be… more thorough moving forward."
Elena's smile returned, light as dawn. "I'm relieved to hear it, my lord. Enjoy the rest of your evening."
As they turned away, Jake murmured under his breath, his tone dry. "That's one gatekeeper who won't be sleeping tonight."
Elena's lips curved in satisfaction. "Good. Fear is the first step toward honesty."
Jake could only chuckle at his friend; he was always amazed at the way she could put fear into people's hearts with so little knowledge that he gave her.
Their next targets were the Niel twins — Helen and Derrick — nobles of impeccable breeding and questionable virtue. The siblings were known for their silver tongues and golden pockets, their estates resting atop trade routes that "lost" more goods than they accounted for.
Elena spotted them near the fountain, where petals floated lazily on still water. The twins stood like reflections of each other — both tall, poised, their movements practiced for attention. Helen wore a gown of pale green silk that caught the candlelight like dew, while Derrick's attire mirrored hers in subtle embroidery, their coordination deliberate.
As Elena and Jake approached, Derrick turned with a calm smile. "Lady Falmil," he said smoothly, offering a bow. "And your mysterious partner — Mr. Lamore, was it? Your dance was magnificent. Half the room has done nothing but speak of it."
Helen's gaze drifted toward Jake, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. "Indeed," she added, voice like velvet. "Quite the entrance. It's not often someone outshines the nobility at their own game."
Elena inclined her head gracefully. "It's kind of you to say. But I'm sure the two of you know what it means to command attention."
Derrick chuckled. "Flattery from a Falmil? I'll cherish it. To what do we owe the honor of your company, my lady?"
Elena's smile didn't waver. "Oh, simple conversation. After all, your family's trade routes are essential to Altor's prosperity. It must be such a burden — keeping everything... pure."
Helen's eyes narrowed, though her smile held. "Purity is a fragile thing, Lady Falmil. Hard to maintain when everyone's so eager to touch it."
Jake stepped forward slightly, his presence quiet but impossible to ignore. "Some things only stay clean," he said softly, "when the hands guarding them aren't already stained."
Derrick's smile thinned. "A bold sentiment, Mr. Lamore. I assume you speak from experience?"
Jake's gaze flicked to him, gold glinting under the mask. "I've seen what greed leaves behind. It tends to rot faster than flesh."
Helen's composure faltered for just a heartbeat before she forced a laugh. "Such intensity. You must forgive my brother, Lady Falmil — he forgets not everyone enjoys... spirited debate."
Elena let a faint, amused laugh escape her. "Oh, I find honesty refreshing. You'd be surprised how quickly reputations crumble under too much silence."
Her words lingered, sharp as glass under velvet.
The twins exchanged a glance — a silent conversation between them.
Finally, Derrick inclined his head. "Of course, my lady. I'll see to it our affairs remain... transparent."
Helen's smile returned, faint and cool. "Yes. Wouldn't want the capital misunderstanding our intentions."
Elena's lips curved into a polite smile. "Indeed. Misunderstandings have such tragic consequences."
She turned, Jake following beside her.
When they were out of earshot, Jake murmured, "Those two are snakes."
"Perhaps," Elena replied softly. "But even snakes know when a hawk's shadow passes overhead."