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The trunk of Nazali's elaborate, hand-painted elephant mask appeared to move from side to side, swaying in time to the music. Briefly, Julian had considered that it might be a feat of alchemical engineering, not entirely unlike the count's prosthetic arm - real, tangible proof of the wonders that could be achieved through the marriage of science and magic. It was, however, highly likely that Julian was in fact a good deal more inebriated than he'd first realised. Yes, it was surely more likely that he was the one swaying and taking care not to topple into the fountain's sparkling shallows.
Just as Julian had resigned himself to his drunkenness, a glimpse of his reflection made him reconsider. He hesitated for a moment, hand twitching as he reached to the back of his neck to run his fingers through what ought to have been tousled auburn hair and not glossy blue-black feathers. He traced them back to the feathered crest at the edge of his bird-beaked mask. Was it some illusion? More of the Devil's trickery? So many thoughts swirled and swam around his wretched head, but one rose to the surface as the others drowned: he needed to find him.
He needed to find Matteo.
Matteo flung his jeweled colombina mask to the floor, glad he'd taken the damn thing off before he discovered he had scales instead of skin. He weaved his way through the masked menagerie in the ballroom, keeping his eyes peeled for the white goat with all the answers.
And for Julian.
Gods, he hoped he'd had the sense to take off that fetching mask of his. He winced as he passed a woman clawing at her mask, her cat's eyes pleading from within the porcelain prison. I'm sorry, he wanted to tell her, even though none of this was his doing. I'll fix this, he didn't say, because it wasn't a promise that he knew he could keep. So he pushed on towards one of the exits, tails swishing and wings flapping all around him as he approached the great marble arch, adorned with glittering lights that had taken on the yellowish hue of sickly, far-off stars.
If he could just find Julian and get back to the others, they'd find that fucking goat and they'd find a way to fix this. They had to. Matteo thought of the cat-lady and felt a surge of determination as he stepped out into the palace gardens. He would see justice for her. For all of them. But then he saw Julian and his heart sank.
He was too late.
Julian couldn't speak when he felt Matteo's soft hands sink into the nest of oil-dark feathers at his throat, where his magic mark used to be. He wanted to speak - and to smile - when he saw his lover's blessedly human face, but both proved difficult without lips. He settled for raising the hands he still had, placing them gently over Matteo's.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice hoarse as he held back tears. Julian shook his head, grateful at least that it didn't turn all the way around like an owl's, then bent down to press his forehead to Matteo's. We're still together, he said without words.
Matteo heard him.
He straightened his back, fire magic crackling at his fingertips.
"We'll fix this."