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The masquerade had been fun, this is true, but certain things had… happened.
First, Clarissa had lost an earring. Second, she kissed a woman, one whom she’ll likely never see again. Third (and arguably most important) in doing so, she betrayed her crush on Lady Lesso.
The masquerade element to the ball had been Carissa’s idea. Pitching it to her co-dean had been a nerve-wracking experience, but eventually, Leonora had agreed.
“You think a flimsy mask will be enough to hide anyone’s identity?” Leonora questioned curiously.
“We can enchant the ballroom, of course. It wouldn’t take much to find a spell to provide the right effect.” Clarissa explains quickly, and Leonora nods, accepting her theory. The fairy godmother had planned for any argument she might have.
“The students wouldn’t be able to recognize each other then. They can make connections without worrying too much. Foster some…” Leonora pauses, looking Clarissa over with a tense frown, “Togetherness.”
“I was thinking it could be open invitation…” Clarissa starts, and she already knows that Lady Lesso will protest, so she pushes forward quickly. “We have excellent security, Lady Lesso, and we can afford more guards if necessary. A couple of extra spells to keep things safe. You know our magic works well together.”
“Think about it. After what happened with Rafal last year, we have to show that—“
“People can’t mess with the school. That the experience hasn’t shaken us.” Lady Lesso finishes the idea with a shallow nod. A show of strength. She knew the woman would agree. “Fine, you’ll have your party, but I will be leading the security spells.”
Clarissa grins. “Deal!”
“But why a masquerade instead of a regular ball? You must have a reason.” Leonora asks curiously. Clarissa does have a reason, actually.
“Well, masquerades are fun because you can hide your identity. I want to try and blend in.”
“You think you’re going to be able to disappear like that?” Leonora shakes her head. “You’re easy to pinpoint.”
“There’s going to be a lot of people there. I think I’ll be able to blend in fairly well.”
“If you say so.” Leonora snorts, and Clarissa frowns.
“Why’d you say it like that?”
“Because Princess, mask or not, I assure you it would be easy to pick you out in a crowded ballroom.” Leonora shakes her head, shrugging. That wouldn’t be possible. It's not possible at all with what Clarissa has planned.
“I hope you’ll at least consider dressing up.” She says, leaning forward in her chair. Leonora looks away disinterestedly.
“Maybe.” And that was that.
She’s sure that Lady Lesso is around somewhere. Clarissa just hadn’t seen her all night, even when she was addressing the attendees.
Clarissa had started the masquerade, wearing exactly what someone might expect from her. A golden ballgown and a golden mask, her hair its usual color styled on the top of her head. It was later in the night that she had changed. Her hair is now more platinum than gold, straight rather than curly, and her dress? Dark lavender layered chiffon, with a slight v-neck and silver heels. Even her jewelry is all new—anything to not be recognized.
Up until the day before, Lady Lesso had insisted that Clarissa would be easy to spot in the crowd despite the nature of the party. She decided to prove a point. The only problem is, its hard to prove a point when the woman you’re looking for is nowhere to be found.
She threads through the well-dressed attendees carefully as she notes their appreciative glances at her attire. Every time she spots a flash of red, she looks to see if it’s Lady Lesso. It never is. In fact, Clarissa is starting to wonder if the woman is even here. Even though the spell is supposed to make it markedly difficult to recognize others, whether it is their faces hidden behind their mask or their voices, she’s sure—
“Excuse me.” The voice interrupting her thoughts is unfamiliar, but it catches her attention anyway. Shoulder length, raven black hair, silvery blue mask, and a mischievous smile. The woman wears a glittering grey dress that hugged her waist and matched her eyes. “Are you looking for someone?”
“Kind of.” Her eyes dart around the ballroom again before settling entirely on the woman before her who is, in a word, stunning. What could she possibly want from Clarissa? “I thought a friend would be here, but I don’t see her anywhere.”
“A friend?” The woman questions curiously, taking a sip from the drink in her hand. The bright red lip print left behind almost distracts her from the woman’s next words. “Do you want some company while you wait?” Clarissa blinks softly, surprised by the offer.
“You can. If you want to.” She responds. Her usual confidence is failing her under this scrutiny. The woman is entirely focused on her, scanning her outfit— her face meticulously. “I mean… that sounds nice.”
“Excellent.” The woman drawls as she steps closer, leaning carefully into Clarissa’s space. “Tell me. What’s your name?” For a second, she almost answers honestly. But this is a masquerade, and Clarissa is someone else tonight.
“… Dianne.” Her middle name, not her first. “My name is Dianne. What’s yours?”
“We’re doing fake names?” The woman chuckles softly, and Clarissa’s brow furrows slightly. How did she— “Ingrid. Call me Ingrid.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ingrid,” Clarissa says, holding out her hand in greeting, and the woman takes it with a slight smile. Ingrid doesn’t let go. She doesn’t try to pull away.
“The pleasures all mine, Dianne.” Ingrid practically purrs the pseudonym, eyes flickering curiously over her once again. What could she be looking for? If anything, Clarissa stands out less than usual. All at once, she misses the bounce of her natural hair. The ability to wrap a curl around her finger when she gets nervous. She flicks a few strands over her shoulder instead.
“How… how do you like the ball?” Clarissa asks, and the question drags Ingrid’s attention back over to face. They’re closer than they were before, she realizes moments later. Hands still linked in greeting.
“The decorations are nice, the security top-notch, and the drinks… well, I prefer something a little bit stronger.” The liquid in the woman’s champagne glass swirls gently. Hypnotically. “But the company just became phenomenal.” Clarissa is almost flustered by the woman’s tone as she says the last word.
Was she talking about her? About Clarissa? “Oh. That’s lovely of you to say.” Clarissa wants to keep talking to her, too. She seems interesting at the very least. Even though— her mind flickers to Lady Lesso. She bites her lip almost guiltily.
“I’m only being honest.” Ingrid drawls in response. “I think we can have a great time together. If you’re interested, that is.” Oh, she is interested. Very interested.
“Would you like to dance, Ingrid?” And almost as if it were destiny, the tempo of the music in the ballroom changes. A slow dance that she recognizes almost immediately.
“Why, I’d love to,” Ingrid responds, depositing her near-empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray. They glide more than walk to the dance floor. It’s almost unnatural how quickly they fall into the dance, moving together with each other with grace and fluidity. It reminds her of— She blinks the wayward thought away. Not right now.
“You’re really good.” She compliments absently as the second song ends and the next one starts. They haven’t missed a step yet.
“Thank you. A friend of mine insisted that I learned how. This opportunity makes those efforts all worth it.” Ingrid’s hand on her hips inching down mercilessly slow. Their torsos pressed a little closer than propriety demands. “It almost makes me want to thank her.”
“Almost?” Clarissa repeats teasingly.” Was she not a lovely teacher?”
“She was… is a great teacher. An excellent one. I’m just not one to listen.” Ingrid admits. And that sounded familiar. Her lessons with Lady Lesso are also trying. It’s much better than when they started, but it sometimes gets difficult. They could execute a dance flawlessly one week, and then the next, Leonora would be confused about the basic steps of that same dance. It never made sense to Clarissa at all.
She looks up at L— no, Ingrid. How could she have confused them? “I think you learned well enough.” The woman smiles, eyes meeting Clarissa. Grey, not green. She looks away, ashamed.
“You remind me of her.”
“Of your dance teacher? How so?” Clarissa asks as they do a quick spin.
“You’re both Ever’s.”
“What makes you think—“Ingrid tilts her head, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Okay. You got me. How do you know that?”
“You’re excellent at speaking politely. Even when you were half distracted looking for that friend of yours, you gave me the time of day.” Ingrid cites fondly. “That and your smile.”
“You’re smiling too.” Clarissa smiles even harder unintentionally.
“This is a flirty smile.” Ingrid points to her own face before tapping Clarissa’s cheek twice. “That is a cheerful smile. You had that bounce in your step before I even approached you.” Well how long had she been looking? Clarissa wonders curiously raising an eyebrow.
“Well, I know you’re a Never.” She says instead, eyes glittering triumphantly.
“And how did you come to this conclusion?” Another spin. Pull apart. Push together.
“Your hands.”
“My hands?”
“Callouses. Ever woman don’t typically use swords or knives. That, and you’ve been holding my backside since the second song.” Ingrid’s hands start to return to their correct positioning at her statement. She frowns. “I didn’t say you had to stop. I’m just saying it’s not Ever-like.”
“Noted.” The woman chuckles, hands falling back into their proper— improper positioning.
Clarissa continues unheeded. “You’re pretending to be relaxed, but you keep looking around like someone will attack you at any given moment.” Ingrid’s eyes widen at her last statement, which further confirms it. “Telltale Never trait expecting an enemy to show up. Evers never prepare themselves for something like that.”
“You’re good.”
“I know.” She laughs, and Ingrid blinks, scanning her face again. She says nothing, though she smiles quickly, then pulls Clarissa into the next dance. How many dances has it been now? Six?
They dance another two songs before Ingrid speaks again.
“Are you still waiting for your friend?” She questions lowly. An offer. A decision. Clarissa hesitates before she remembers. Tonight, she isn’t Clarissa with a hopeless, one-sided crush on Leonora Lesso. She’s Dianne, who wants to spend time with a woman that actually wants her. It’s selfish, but—
“No,” Clarissa answers boldly. “I’m sure she’s enjoying herself elsewhere.”
Ingrid grins. “I’m sure she is. You know, I couldn’t quite take my eyes off your dress. You wear it beautifully.” The woman is buttering her up with an obscene amount of compliments. Flirting. Clarissa can do that, too.
“Thanks. You should see me out of it.” For the first time since they started, Ingrid misses a step. She recovers surprisingly quickly, tugging Clarissa an inch closer to whisper in her ear.
“Is that an offer?”
“Only if you’re up for it.” She responds just as quietly. The other couples in the room pay them no heed as they step off the dance floor. Clarissa is only slightly nervous as she guides Ingrid from the ballroom down the hallway to a lesser-known location.
Leonora had pulled no stops for security at all, and Clarissa is grateful for that, of course, but—
When Clarissa prepares to turn through a darkened hallway, a hand suddenly covers her mouth. Ingrid jerked her back, pulling her behind a pillar, arm wrapped tight around her waist, their bodies pressed entirely against each other.
“Someone’s coming.” Ingrid breathes, and Clarissa shudders as the words brush her ear. Seconds later, a guard passes. Not a wolf, thankfully but a human. A temp hired specifically for tonight. When Ingrid lets her go, she immediately misses the feeling but pushes through—just a few more minutes.
The guest rooms are too far, and her room is out of the question. Secrets are as secrets do, after all. But the boudoir is empty, unknown, regularly cleaned, and most importantly, nearby. She stops in front of the door, looking back at Ingrid with a sheepish smile.
“I don’t have a key.” She says, knowing that magic wouldn’t work on the room. Not tonight at least. “Do you know how to pick locks?” Thankfully opening it without magic is possible, it being one of the less important rooms.
“I could do that with my eyes closed,” Ingrid responds with a snort. And then she does, which is obscenely attractive for some reason. When Ingrid stands, Clarissa kisses her hard, and the woman responds eagerly. They fall into the room, and Ingrid kicks it closed.
She tastes like that Champagne. Sweet. Fruity. Clarissa can’t get enough. But she also can’t stop thinking—
They end up on the couch, Clarissa threading her fingers through Ingrid’s hair and tugging her close as they kiss. She doesn’t even notice that Ingrid has found the laces of her dress until the top bunches around her lower arms, exposing her chest to the cool air. Clarissa shudders, glancing down almost self-consciously.
“There they are,” Ingrid says softly, eyes twinkling with desire as she lays down on the couch. “I’ve been thinking about this view since the moment we met.” Ingrid stretches out her arms, reaching out, and Clarissa falls into her embrace easily, holding the woman by her waist as she does so.
Ingrid’s hands wander extensively, caressing, stroking, squeezing at the bare skin she can access. Clarissa can’t help but gasp at generous actions, moaning as she presses a trail of feather-light kisses and nips around Ingrid’s neck. Even her scent—
Her free hand searches blindly for the zipper of Ingrid’s dress. She tugs it down, grinning victoriously as she glances at Ingrid’s masked face. For half a second, she sees someone else. Leonora. That woman is still settled at the forefront of her mind. It makes her want to scream in frustration. Instead, her hand drifts up Ingrid’s inner thigh, and she draws her into a deeper kiss, moaning muffled as their tongues clash. More passionate as she wills the stray thoughts away.
Here is this woman. Beautiful. Gorgeous even. Clarissa can tell despite the mask half obscuring her face. She’s flirting with Clarissa. Attracted to Clarissa. And all Clarissa can do is think about—
Clarissa doesn’t expect to be flipped. She lands on the carpeted floor with a surprised gasp, Ingrid now between her thighs, hiking Clarissa’s dress up to her waist. This is it. She leans up, drawing the woman into another kiss by cupping her face. She wants this. Clarissa wants this so bad, but—
She’s not her. It’s almost like a switch flicks in her head. So much about Ingrid reminds her of what she likes about Lady Lesso: her confidence, her mischievousness, her humor. It isn’t fair for Clarissa to do this to her, not without her knowledge. Ingrid breaks the kiss, seemingly sensing her hesitation.
“What’s wrong?” She asks. Clarissa sniffles, looking away. Grey eyes, not green. Black hair, not red. Beautiful and confident, but not her. Not Leonora.
“It doesn’t feel right. Kissing you and thinking of her. I’m so—” She shakes her head, rubbing her bottom lip self-consciously. “You deserve better than me treating you like a substitute. I’m sorry for wasting your time.”
“What if I said I didn’t mind?” Ingrid asks, brushing Clarissa’s hair out of her face smoothly.
“I would say that you’re lying.”
“… what if I said I was doing the same?” Clarissa blinks at Ingrid, confused by the statement.
“The same?”
“Treating you like a substitute for a woman I want.” Ingrid clarifies with a sigh. “A woman I can’t have.”
Clarissa almost wants to laugh at the irony. Instead, she just feels sympathy.
“I thought you might be her when I first saw you, but…” Ingrid shakes her head. “She never reacts to my flirting. You didn’t waste my time, Dianne. Sneaking off with you was a fun distraction.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Clarissa scrunches her nose, confused. “Doesn’t react to your flirting at all? How?” She had been flustered within seconds of meeting the woman.
“As I said, she’s an Ever. I think it goes in one ear and out the other.” Ingrid says, leaning her head on the couch cushions with a frown. “Or even worse, she’ll compliment me in that casual way that straight women do and…” The woman sighs, frustrated. Clarissa rubs her shoulder comfortingly.
“Wait. Your dance teacher?” Clarissa asks, remembering their earlier conversation.
“She’s more than that to me,” Ingrid admits. “She’s everything to me. The woman— She’s perfect. A literal fairy tale princess. It’s her whole thing. I just…” Ingrid trails off sighing.
“Seeing her smile— hearing her laugh, it’s such a bright spot on my day. I could listen to her talk for hours and never tire of hearing her voice.“
“That’s beautiful,” Clarissa says softly, tears welling up in her eyes.
“It’s sappy.” Ingrid huffs. “And pathetic. I can’t tell her. I’ll never be able to.”
“You could.”
“You could, too.” Ingrid retorts. Clarissa knows she won’t. “Tell me about your friend. She must have been the one you were looking for earlier.”
“Mine…” She trails off, thinking about Leonora. Everything she likes about her. “She’s a Never with the most breathtaking of eyes. Capable. Confident. She really knows how to command a room. I always look forward to being around her, even when she’s antagonizing me on purpose. That woman, I adore her, but I know she’ll never feel the same.” How could she?
Ingrid quirks an eyebrow. “She’s such a mystery. I’ve known her for years, but she doesn’t really like to talk about herself. She’ll give out meaningless information like candy, but the important stuff is tucked close to her chest. I—“ Clarissa admits the distance between her and Leonora with a melancholic smile. “It’s like she put up a brick wall between us to keep me out.”
“That’s a Never thing,” Ingrid says, coming to Leonora’s defense despite not knowing the woman.
“What about when she avoids looking at me?”
“When she what?”
“Some days, it’s fine. On other days… she’ll look past me, through me, around me, above me. She’ll acknowledge my presence and then avoid looking at me unless necessary. She’ll look at everyone else without a problem, though.” Clarissa feels self-conscious even admitting it. The fact that Leonora found her distasteful to look at.
“That…” Ingrid shakes her head. “I can understand that a little.”
“You can?”
“My… the dance teacher. She’s gorgeous. Doe-eyed, long lashes, pretty lips. And she wears these—” Ingrid cuts herself off, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter. sometimes, when she talks to me, I get distracted thinking about how much I want to kiss her. One of these days I might just blurt it out.”
“Really?” She questions hesitantly.
“Really.” Ingrid nods. “If I start looking, I’ll start staring, and then she gets worried about me spacing out. It’s not my fault she’s stunning. But it is my fault if I keep looking at her like… like that.” Ingrid bumps her shoulder gently. “Maybe it’s not you. Your friend could have an entirely different problem.”
“I see…” It’s a minor relief. Something to think about that she takes to heart. It’s better than her previous thoughts, after all. The idea that Lady Lesso might just hate her. She sighs. “Thanks for saying that.”
“Of course,” Ingrid responds with a shrug. “I think…”
“You think?”
“I think she’s waiting for a prince. My Ever.” Leonora clarifies. “Any day of the week, she’ll happily recite some romantic fairy tale from memory. A prince saving a princess or vice versa, but she’s so tightlipped and vague about romance when it comes to herself.”
Clarissa sighs sympathetically. “You know… not all fairy tales have a happy ending. It’s possible that hers didn’t work out.”
“She’s an Ever…” Ingrid trails off, confused. “It always works out for Evers. Always.”
“No. Not always.” Clarissa had resolved herself to be in the background because of who she was. Granting wishes was her calling, then her calling became education, sowing the seeds for the next generation of Evers.
“You’re saying… it might have failed.”
“Or it might not have happened yet. There’s no timestamp on love.” Clarissa responds softly.
“Which brings us back to her waiting on a prince.” Ingrid snorts. Clarissa doesn’t see the woman’s finger glow, but she does accept the summoned glass with a smile. Champagne from the ballroom. Clarissa recognizes it immediately. “To unrequited affections?”
“To unrequited affections.” She responds, clinking their glasses together before sipping lightly at the bubbly beverage.
It doesn’t change the fact that her ill-fated crush on Leonora is ruining all her potential romantic ventures. But it soothes the burn—just a little.
They talk a little longer. Exchange a bit more information about their crushes. It’s almost funny how familiar it all sounds.
The night almost ends there, but a single hesitant question changes that.
“Do you want to pretend?”
Clarissa only leaves because she has to. It’s getting late, and someone has to set off the fireworks to announce the end of the ball.
“I have to go, Ingrid. But it was— I enjoyed myself.”
”Same to you, Pr— Dianne.” Ingrid exhales softly correcting herself. The woman kisses her cheek before relaxing on the couch. “I hope it works out for you and your Never.”
Clarissa nods returning the sentiment. “You as well.” She summons her a blanket, just to keep Ingrid warm until she decides to leave. There’s always stragglers at these events. A few extra minutes won’t harm anyone though. She lost her earring around here.
Clarissa has enough time to freshen up and change clothes, and return to the ballroom. This time, she’s grateful for Lady Lesso’s absence there. Grateful she doesn’t have to look her in the eye until tomorrow morning.
So yes. Clarissa enjoyed the masquerade. She enjoyed the music, the dancing, the company, and the passion.
But she had lost her earring, and she had kissed a masked, unknown woman, and she had betrayed her crush on Leonora.
She’s just going to have to live with that.
Leonora had spent the ball incognito. She pretended to be a guest the entire night, keeping an eye out for anything, anyone suspicious. She looked the part, too. Just enough unlike herself for people to second guess.
All the while, she kept an eye on Clarissa. The woman had claimed she would blend in, but she really didn’t try hard enough. The fairy godmother was dazzling, as per usual. She noticed when Clarissa disappeared, though, the woman darting out one of the side doors in the ballroom. As she waited for her return, someone else caught her eye.
Dianne.
Smooth brown skin, long blonde hair, and a smile that reminded her of Clarissa’s. At that moment, she had decided to abandon her quest for a secure ballroom and focus her attentions elsewhere. Letting off some steam would do her well, she rationalized.
“Excuse me. Are you looking for someone?” It was easy to engage her in conversation, keep her eyes from darting around the room in search of… well whoever it was that had her attentions.
The woman had reacted to her flirtations excellently and then exceeded her expectations by offering to spend further quality time together. Somewhere private. She would be a fool to deny that offer.
But Leonora was using her as a substitute, and Dianne, funnily enough, was doing the same. Unrequited affection is what they had toasted to.
Maybe it was the mutual understanding. The sympathy for each other's situation that led to what came next. The most shameless behavior that she had exhibited to date. Pretending like it was Clarissa, she was kissing, caressing, and leaning into. Calling for Clarissa with her mind while Dianne’s name passed her lips, and knowing the other woman was doing the same. It had been electric. Fulfilling. And yet, it wasn’t quite enough. She still wanted— wants Clarissa Dovey.
Dianne had left the room in a rush after spying the clock on the wall. Tucking Leonora into a blanket to which she responded by pecking her cheek. The woman had smiled at her. Soft. Sweet. Like Clarissa, but not.
Leonora doesn’t get up until long after the fireworks go off, and when she does, she steps on one of Dianne's earrings. It was only right that she try to return it.
Leonora frowns at the earring dangled between her fingers. The masquerade had been open invitation, meaning there wasn’t an official list of everyone who had been there. Fortunately, Leonora has access to the attendee book, though, try as she might, she can’t find Dianne’s name scrawled across any of the pages. She knew it would be a long shot, of course. Dianne was a pseudonym, just like Ingrid was a pseudonym.
How exactly is she supposed to get in contact with a woman who gave her a fake name? And the masquerade element added extra uncertainty to everything. The spell they had used was powerful. It was designed with the sole purpose of making everyone unrecognizable unless they decided to reveal themselves.
She drops the earring on her desk as someone walks into the office. Clarissa. Who else?
“Good morning, Lady Lesso.” The woman says with a cheerful smile. As usual, Leonora takes in her appearance as quickly as possible. Hair intricately braided into an updo, a soft blue dress with gold embroidery, and a pendant hanging low around her neck. Leonora almost sighs. Even with what she and Dianne did last night, its not out of her system. She still wants— “I didn’t see you at the masquerade yesterday at all.”
“Unlike you, I was content to hide behind the mask. What happened to blending in?” She asks, quirking an eyebrow. Clarissa had shown up and announced the ball, then mingled for a few hours with the guests while Lady Lesso focused on security. The only time Leonora didn’t see the woman was when she was tied up with Dianne and she had only gotten up from the couch after the fireworks went off.
Clarissa shrugs, smiling even brighter, and Leonora resolutely averts her gaze. The woman was practically glowing this morning. What was she even so happy about? The blonde answers her silent question seconds later.
“Actually, could you help me with something?” Clarissa asks hesitantly, coming to stand in front of her desk.
“Help you?” She frowns, not looking up. “With what?”
“There was someone at the ball last night that I would like to speak to. I just—“ She clears her throat. “Maybe you could help me find her.” Her? Leonora frowns unthinkingly.
“What’s the name?” If she’s doing one futile search, she might as well do two.
“I don’t know.”
“How am I supposed to find her if you don’t know her name?”
“Well, she gave me a fake name. Would that help?” Leonora feels her eye twitch at the admission. Masquerade balls are out from here on, clearly being more trouble than they’re worth.
“And did you not ask for a real one?”
“It never came up,” Clarissa says, placing her hands on Leonora’s desk as she leans forward. She really can’t look up now. “Can you help? Please?” Leonora sighs, giving in. It’s possible that the fake name might have ties to a real persona.
“What’s the fake name? I’ll also need a description at the very least.”
“Ingrid.” Leonora’s pen pauses right above the parchment. Ingrid? Clarissa couldn’t mean— she looked at her with a frown.
“Do you want to… pretend?” Dianne asks, glancing quickly at Leonora before looking away.
“Ingrid?” She repeats, heart skipping a beat. “And why—“
“Pretend what?”
“My earring! Where did you find this?” Clarissa asks excitedly, picking up the jewelry and cradling it in her palm.
“Pretend like I’m her? Or would that be too—” Shameless. Desperate. Wrong, but so right.
“… The boudoir. Were you there last night?” She asks, feigning disinterest as she sets aside her pen, uncaring of the ink now staining the parchment.
“We could do that.” She responds after a moment's hesitation. As long as she doesn’t think too hard about— “What do you need me to change?” Leonora asks quickly, knowing her features is what caused Dianne’s hesitation in the first place. “Hairstyle, eye color? What would make me look more like her?” What would make you comfortable enough to go through this?
“I ummm. For a short while, yes.”
Dianne pauses uncertainly before taking a determined breath. So they both knew this wasn’t right. But they’re also both willing to go through with it. “Both. May I?” Leonora inclines her head, closing her eyes as Dianne works her magic. “My turn.” She doesn’t know how she looks. Dianne won’t either.
“With Ingrid?” Leonora asks, staring at Clarissa unflinchingly.
“There’s just one thing.” Dianne’s eyes are the perfect shade of brown, but her hair. Leonora’s finger glows as she makes an adjustment. The long blond hair darkens in shade and curls into a familiar pattern. “Perfect.” She says forlornly. Not Clarissa. Like Clarissa.
“…why are you asking me that?” So yes.
“The masks—“
“Because Ingrid is looking for a woman named Dianne, and I’m starting to think that’s you.”
“It’d be best if they stay on.” Leonora focuses hard on the woman sitting across from her. They could do this.
“You know, Ingrid? And she’s asking for me? Could you put me in touch with her?” Leonora inhales sharply. Clarissa is Dianne. Dianne is Clarissa. Last night, she and Clarissa had—
“Agreed.” Dianne nods biting her lip as she scans her face. “Who am I? I mean, what are you going to call me?”
Leonora doesn’t know if she should laugh or cry. Scream in rage or demand answers from the cruel universe that they live in. How in the hell did something like this happen? Everything she wanted— the woman she wanted except—
“I’ll call you mine. And you can call me yours.” The details don’t matter right now, and she may feel guilty tomorrow, but tonight— she kisses Dianne without hesitation. Clarissa kisses back.
“I am Ingrid.”
The silence following her declaration is heavy, but it’s not like she can take the words back.
Unlike what she expects, Clarissa chuckles, shaking her head. “Lady Lesso, Ingrid had black hair and grey eyes. You—“
“There’s a spell for that.” She interrupts, standing as she looks Clarissa in the eye.
“You couldn’t be Ingrid. She was…” Clarissa blinks, looking her over with furrowed eyebrows. “… your height. She was your height. And she had your jawline.”
All at once, everything they had said the night previous rushes through her head.
She had gushed to Dianne last night about her crush, revealed information she wouldn’t dare share with someone she knew personally; then she had pretended she was… Clarissa.
“No.” Clarissa again shakes her head in denial. “You’re not… You can’t be…”
“Grey dress? Blue mask? Wandering hands?” She wiggles her fingers for emphasis.
“No.” The blonde doesn’t even look like she’s listening.
“That was me.”
“No!”
“Yes!” Leonora should have seen it sooner. The same smile, the same walk, the same laugh for Storian’s sake. Right in front of her face, and yet she was blind.
“You can’t be Ingrid, Lady Lesso, because last night Ingrid and I—“
“Had relations in the boudoir?” She knows. She was there. She had participated enthusiastically.
“Shared intimate thoughts and feelings,” Clarissa says, pretending as if she didn’t hear Leonora’s words. “We were very vulnerable.”
Lady Lesso furrows her eyebrows. Why is Clarissa continuing to deny the truth? “What are you getting at—“
“You don’t share your feelings, Leonora. You hate—“ Clarissa takes a sharp, confused breath. “You don’t share with anyone. Ever. Or is it just… you don’t share with me?” She asks as her shoulders drop in disappointment.
Leonora bites her lip because it's true. She doesn’t share her feelings. Not even Clarissa, despite the woman’s persistent efforts. She had called it a brick wall last night, and Leonora couldn’t deny the accuracy. “Clarissa…”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have even asked that.” The woman cuts her off with an apology before she can even blink. “I’ll let you get back to your work,” Clarissa says, starting to turn, and Leonora grabs her wrist to stop the movement.
“Is that all?” She demands. Are they really not going to talk about anything that occurred last night?
“Lady Lesso, I’m not going to spill your secrets. I wouldn’t do that to you.” Clarissa grabs her hand and nods with a gentle smile. Her hand is warm, soft against her own. “You can trust me just as much as you trusted Dianne, alright?” To who?! Spill her secrets to who?!
All at once, she realizes. Clarissa wasn’t thinking about her last night. She was thinking about someone else.
“Who?”
“Who?” Clarissa repeats, confused. “Who what?”
“Who were you thinking about last night? Who were you pretending I was?” Who has your heart in a way I never can?
“I… don’t want to say.” Clarissa tugs at her hair nervously.
“You know I have a crush on my dance teacher. That’s easy to decipher. Who were you talking about?” Leonora can barely hold back the frustration in her tone.
“That’s not easy to decipher at all! I don’t know who else is teaching you dance.” Wait. Who else?
“What?” Leonora looks at her, confused. “You’re the one teaching me dance.”
“I know, but the woman you have a crush on is also teaching you to dance. I don’t know who that is, but I promise I won’t try to find out.” Clarissa says, head tilted in confusion.
“Clarissa, I’m not getting lessons from anyone else,” Leonora responds with a frown before stating the obvious. “The one I like. That’s you.”
Clarissa shakes her head. Again, with the denials. “No. You talked about her like— you said she was gorgeous. Perfect. So pretty you want to kiss her. You said you flirt with her! You never—“
“I do!” Leonora can name three times this week alone that she’s flirted with Clarissa, and the woman smiled and gave her a thoughtful compliment in return. “I was talking about you. Who were you talking about?”
“What?”
“Who’s this Never that you adore? The one you were thinking about while my— excuse me— Ingrid’s knee was spreading your thighs?” She remembers vividly how warm Clarissa’s skin had been against her own. How sweet she had tasted. How receptive she had been to Leonora’s touch. Her eyes darken visibly as a lust-laden memory flashes through her mind.
“Lady Lesso!” Clarissa gasps, no doubt surprised at the vulgarity. It’s interesting how propriety is suddenly important when she’s only recounting last night’s activities.
“Well?! Who were you thinking about, Clarissa.” She demands again, tightening her grip on Clarissa’s hand. She’s not going to let go. Not until she knows the truth.
“I was thinking about you, Leonora!” Clarissa shouts, and Lady Lesso blinks, surprised. “You’re the one with the confidence and the mischievous smile and the pretty eyes. There. I admitted it. Are you happy?”
“No. You knew Ingrid for an hour before you—” Leonora seethes, somehow jealous of herself. Everything that happened last night should have been for her and her alone. For her and Clarissa. Instead, it was for Ingrid. She hates that nonexistent woman. “Why did you like that version of me better?”
“Well, why did you like Dianne better than me?!” Clarissa demands as a retort.
“What makes you think I like her better?”
“What makes me—“ Clarissa cuts herself off, scoffing. “You complimented her, you smiled at her so easily, you stared like she was the only woman in the room! You didn’t shy away from her touch.”
“Because there was no danger to it. No risk.” Leonora responds. Storian, this was a mess. “She reminded me of you, Clarissa; I was just trying to sleep with her.”
“Well, I was trying to sleep with Ingrid, and you ruined it.”
“I ruined it?” Her eyes widen in disbelief. “You’re the one who wanted to stop.”
“Because all I could think about was you! Your smile, your hair, your eyes. You.” Clarissa stops. “I have had feelings for you for so long, Leonora, that when someone showed an actual genuine interest in sleeping with me, and I… I asked her to pretend to be you. Even after all that because no one could measure up to you. How could I have done that?”
“I did the same.” Her response doesn’t seem to comfort the woman at all.
“You went along with what I wanted! I asked for that!” Clarissa retorts sharply. “I asked for that, and I used you, and I’m so sorry. I wanted to send her— you a letter to make sure she was alright.”
“I don’t care that you used me, Clarissa.” Use me again. She doesn’t say it, but she thinks it. She hopes it. She agonizes for it. “We were both pretending last night. Remember?”
“Then why do I feel so…” Clarissa takes a deep breath, blinking her eyes as she looks away. “…guilty, and sad, and jealous.”
“I feel that too.” Mostly the jealousy, though. Only the jealous, actually. Her first time exploring Clarissa had been behind masked faces and fake identities. A requited, unrequited crush. Hysterical. “You didn’t really like Ingrid more than me. Right?”
“No. She just reminded me of you. She was familiar.” Clarissa denies it quickly, and Lady Lesso feels an intense rush of relief. “And you didn’t think Dianne was—“
“She was nice, but I only have eyes for one woman,” Leonora says, drawing Clarissa closer by the hand. Her Dove looks shocked by the action.
“That was the flirting?” Leonora nods in agreement.
“That was the flirting.” It’s far more effective now that Clarissa knows she’s being serious.
“What now? What do we do?” Clarissa asks, and Leonora repeats the question in her head, shrugging. So much had happened in the past 24 hours. Is it time to talk or is it time to digest?
“I mean, we spilled our guts to each other yesterday. I— You saw my…” Clarissa trails off, gesturing towards her chest. They had done a little more than just that.
“I held them too,” Leonora adds helpfully. She clenches her fingers unthinkingly at the memory of Clarissa plush and warm against her palm. “I enjoyed that. Thanks for reminding me.” She admits, and Clarissa looks positively flustered by her admission.
“You're welcome?” Leonora can barely hold back a laugh, and Clarissa smiles, letting out a giggle of her own. It really took them hiding their faces behind a mask for the truth to come out. “Leonora, how did this happen? All those people there last night, you found me.”
She can’t help but feel a little smug. “Just like I predicted.”
Clarissa smiles, blinking up at her. “Just like you predicted.”
“Do you really think I have breathtaking eyes?” Leonora questions, a smirk forming on her face as Clarissa silently grasps for an appropriate response. “I think you also used the words confident, capable, commanding…”
“I— I might have said something along those lines. I did, actually. I said all that.” Clarissa responds before asking a question of her own. “Do you really avoid looking at me because… because you want to kiss,” Clarissa asks, and Leonora nods. It's shameful but true. “I see.” Clarissa tugs on a stray blond curl before she asks another question. “Do you maybe feel the need right now?”
“The need…” to kiss? She trails off, eyeing Clarissa’s lips. “If you’re up for it.”
Thankfully, Clarissa is.