It was Catarina's wish that after Lucanis was elevated to First Talon, that a grand party be held at the Dellamorte mansion to celebrate. Antivan customs dictated that a masquerade ball be held. One where the Crows hid deadly intent behind glittery masks and charming words.

Lucanis, of course, would rather be working a contract, but the party did come with one very positive upside. Rook. She had agreed to come and join the festivities; even when they had the pressure of Elven Gods to contend with. She was always so loyal to him, more than he deserved. And naturally, she looked gorgeous tonight.

Watching from the banister, Lucanis knew it was her—even behind the golden mask adorning her face. Her long white gown tapered beautifully behind her, absorbing the warm candlelight and magnifying its brilliance. That low-cut neckline of her dress drew the eye to the tantalizing slope of her chest; a dress that paid perfect homage to her cleavage. Lucanis wasn't sure if he had ever seen anyone so beautiful before in his life.

A large array of food and drink, revelry among those Lucanis considered family. Music softly played on the ground floor. A lovely string quartet for those who milled about to dance to. Yet all was not well when Lucanis spied the object of his affections tonight chatting with someone he had not expected to attend.

Lucanis didn't need to see his face behind the mask to know who Rook was speaking to by the hors d'oeuvres. Fucking Illario Dellamorte...

Despite being utterly gorgeous, Rook appeared to be a wallflower down at the ground level. Subjected to conversation with Illario because she was looking for Lucanis. She's here for you! Spite growled in his head loudly, urging him on. Illario is dead! Spite snarled, already searing with jealousy at Lucanis' cousin's shared proximity.

Taking a breath in through his nostrils, Lucanis descended the grand staircase with a lethal poise. It was time to interject. After all, Rook was off-limits to anyone but him.