Private Tales Sighing Shadows by the Light of the Moons

Would she ever not get flustered when he whispered things like that? When he called her Sunbeam in that teasing drawl or said things that made her entire face burn red? Unlikely. Ciana suspected she would go to her grave blushing at Galen’s words.

She felt the warmth of his breath brush her ear and shivered, biting down on her lower lip to stifle the laugh that threatened to escape. His words, wicked and low, sank straight to her stomach, and she was suddenly very aware of how close he was behind her, how his voice always seemed to hum through her bones.

Her cheeks flushed a pretty shade of rose as she caught the merchant’s knowing look. She straightened her spine and cleared her throat..

“Yes… yes, I’ll be sure to allow you to repay me with interest, my lord,” she said sweetly, the words sugar-coated with mock formality though her eyes glittered with amusement.

To distract herself, she reached for a mask on the display stand. It was a beautiful thing, sculpted of gold filigree shaped like the rays of a setting sun. The metal fanned outward like a crown around her eyes, tiny amber stones scattered throughout so that when light struck it, it shimmered like a summer horizon aflame.

She turned it in her hands, admiring the play of light. “Perfect,” she said softly, holding it up to her face, blue gaze smiling at him through the mask’s eyes “What do you think?.. Will you recognise me?..”

Ciana’s breath caught as he lifted the mask to his face. It suited him almost too well. It sharpened the angles of his cheekbones, made his cobalt eyes burn brighter, mysterious and wicked all at once. Her lips parted on a soft exhale.

“You,” she murmured, stepping closer, fingertips brushing the edge of the mask, “look dangerously handsome.”

She didn’t bother hiding the warmth in her cheeks this time.

With a grin she snatched both masks; his night sky, her golden sun, and paid the merchant. Then she seized Galen’s hand and tugged him through the busy market, weaving between stalls, laughing as he stumbled after her. Her heart felt light. She felt light.

---

They were to meet at the manor where the masquerade was being held. The entire estate had been transformed into a celebration of light and shadow.

Torches lined the winding path up the hill, lanterns hanging from the trees. Fire jugglers stood on pedestals, tossing blazing torches while musicians played on the steps. Carriages rolled up in a glittering procession.

Ciana arrived in one of them, alone, heart fluttering like a trapped bird.

The vast marble manor loomed with tall arching windows and gold fire sconces blazing at its entry. Velvet banners hung from its balconies, embroidered with suns, moons, and swirls of gilded thread.

Inside, she ascended the sweeping staircase, her hand gliding along the railing. Chandeliers of crystal rained scattered light upon the ballroom below, where dancers spun in a flurry of jewel tones, scarlet, emerald, rose, amethyst. Music, perfume, candlelight… the world felt like a dream.

She stepped onto the balcony that overlooked it all, her gown was a shade of deep celestial blue, the colour of twilight. The fabric shimmered like water under moonlight, shifting between indigo and sapphire as she moved.

Gold, thread-thin chains draped across her shoulders and down her bare back in delicate loops, catching the light with every breath. The bodice was embroidered with tiny golden constellations, glimmering subtly. Her skirt flowed in layered silk, slit just enough to show a glimpse of her leg when she walked.

Her hair fell in loose curls, soft and luminous, a few strands painted with liquid gold, and her golden sunspray mask covered her eyes as she took it all in. Ciana rested her hands lightly on the carved balcony edge, her heart fluttering as she scanned the ballroom below, searching for him.

Ciana jolted, a soft gasp slipping from her as the air beside her rippled and became someone. Then, she saw who it was, and every taut line in her body melted like snow under spring sun. Her shoulders softened, her breath leaving her in a relieved laugh that glimmered through the gold of her mask.

A smile bloomed, bright and warm and entirely for him.

“Hm.. No, but I’m looking for a tall, dark, and handsome roguish type,” she murmured back, stepping just a little closer. “Cute smile. Clever mouth… You seen anyone of that description?” Her brow arched with playful accusation.

Her eyes swept over him then, slowly, admiringly, from the fall of the silver-trimmed coat to the way the black suit framed his shoulders and waist. She stopped breathing for a moment.

“Goodness…” A hand fluttered to her chest in mock distress. “Women are going to start swooning like wilting flowers. Not entirely sure quite how I'm going to remain upright myself..” she smirked, a glimmer of mischief in her gaze as she realised what she’d said. Heat flared under her mask, blooming across her cheeks. She dropped immediately into a curtsy far too elegant for how flustered she was.

“My Lord,” she added, voice smaller, though her grin betrayed her. “You clean up… unfairly well.” she said, offering her hand.