Rooks and Romanticide Read Online Free PDF

is your victory?” Her laughter was drunken and shrill, and over her shoulder was the sprawling shadow of the manor, above it the star-studded sky.
    Who was the man in the black mask? More importantly, who did he think he was, playing games with Cain? Even more importantly, why did it make Cain’s heart thump so to play right back?
    Cain could see his breath as he realized the stumbling woman was still talking to him, going on and on about his getup, but he didn’t know what to say, so he just shook loose and brushed past her. He escaped by turning past one of the hired hands with a silver tray of turkish delight. As he sidestepped back-to-back with the waiter, he looked up and met the eyes of the young man in the black mask, and his heart gave a thrilled jump.
    Everyone was dancing—and obviously so were they, in their own way, Cain and this stranger. The stranger hovered just a few inches away, standing at the back of some burly man in red, and beneath the chained bottom of his mask, the young man’s mouth turned up in a most curious smile.
    â€œThe Death of the Ruslanivs, is it?” he whispered, just loud enough for Cain to hear, referencing Aunt Ophelia’s introduction in a strange manner. It wasn’t overexcited like everyone else, tickled by the satire. It was soft and thoughtful, with narrowed eyes. “It’s an honor….”
    Cain straightened with a little glimmer of pride, a gentle smirk tugging at his mouth as he waited for the guest to bow—but he didn’t, and Cain’s smirk faltered. Disrespectful bastard. Oh, right, perhaps the man still didn’t realize it was him. Or perhaps he meant it was an honor to be meeting “the Death of the Ruslanivs.”
    â€œIt’s an honor more than you’ll ever know again in your lifetime,” Cain retorted coldly, and strode back into the crowd.
    He didn’t make it far. The young man in the mask slipped into his periphery again. Somewhere to Cain’s left, a lady gasped, and before he could take another step, the man in the black mask waltzed right past him with the gasping woman in his arms.
    He found Cain’s eyes and smiled as if to say, Your move .
    As the young man circled by, he purred, with a voice like burnt silk, “Oh, I think I understand the importance of this moment in my life. Very much so.”
    â€œWhat—?” Incensed, but in a good way, Cain followed as the man in the black mask waltzed away. The young woman taken as dancing hostage glanced between them, lost, and as a waiter came through, the young masked man twirled the lady out of his arms and released her into the crowd again, offering a slight bow as Cain stumbled to a sharp stop before him.
    Cain didn’t even notice his own smile as the young man looked up at him through the mask without lifting his head, which was something Cain found unbearably attractive. So casual, so indifferent, so cool and confident—
    But Cain wasn’t satisfied yet. “The import in meeting me face-to-face?” he spat, hoping to clarify in this game of quick words and wit.
    Another waiter passed and Cain followed him around at the coattails until he stood behind the man in the mask, still bowing as he was. Ah, didn’t the man know never to leave his back unguarded?
    â€œWhy…. Yes.” The young masked man stood, casting Cain a heavy glance over his shoulder.
    Cain’s gaze roamed him head to toe, appraising: the modest black broadcloth with the blue lily-of-the-Nile stuck in the pocket—Dietrich blue—the brocade waistcoat of perfect gold, the chain of a pocket watch and the loose linen shirt with the top few buttons unfastened. The man was handsome, dangerously handsome, like men were before life destroyed them, and he showed the sideways glances of a clever mind and a slight shadow to his dimpled, saintly smiles. He finger combed his fine, dirty-blond hair out of his face, and it broke into