Page 150 of Kingdoms of Night

That wasn’t all. His boots had changed to a deep-chocolate brown leather, supple and well oiled. Not bad, and more luxurious than anything he’d ever owned.

He wasn’t wearing the black linen shirt and trousers any longer. Instead, he wore silver-lavender trousers, fitted but comfortable, along with a matching waistcoat and a purple velvet tailcoat, perfectly tailored to him. Silver-white brocade across the lapels formed symbols he didn’t recognize, and lace flowed from the cuffs. He felt like one of Annette’s fancier dolls. How was this possible?

He reached up to touch his hair. It was sleek and clean, still mostly loose except for some of the top which had been pinned back with combs.

And—he took a deep sniff of his arm. He smelled good, too. A soft woodsy scent with a base of vanilla and musk and a hint of evergreen.

He shook his head in awe. Was it going to last or was he going to wind up naked here in the midst of all these people?

He shrugged. As a werewolf, he’d wound up naked before. He could live with the embarrassment as long as he found Idalno.

He stepped farther in. The heaviness and humming pressed in on him. It filled his ears and his lungs as if he pushed through the haze of a dream.

The dancers expanded their path. They pressed up against him and whisked around him, moving so swiftly that most were little more than shadows or pastel blurs. A woman with her pale-blond hair in a highly fashionable twist, her voluminous cream gown embroidered with peach flowers all over, swept in front of him with two glasses of champagne. “Partake with me.”

He pushed her ring-bedecked hand away, nearly sloshing the champagne from the flute. “I’m looking for someone—”

She laughed, tilting her head back as she batted her long eyelashes. Then she was gone.

So was the name of the person he was looking for.

Who—?

Trying to recall it made his head ache.

He blinked. It was important that he remembered. The myriad of scents filled his lungs. But there was one he wanted. One he was searching for. Which one?

He smelled everything from apricots to brandy to roses to amber. But none of those were right. He scanned the faces, turning slowly. A woman in a pale-gold gown with a crown of mistletoe and a hideous bronze mask on a stick appeared in front of him. Diamonds adorned the ridges on the mask’s nose as well as the eyebrows. “Would you like to see what’s real?”

That did not seem like an offer he should accept. “I’m looking for someone. A woman. I think.”

“That much is obvious. But I could be her, couldn’t I?” She peered at him from over the top of her hideous mask and then lowered it as if to draw attention to her almost otherworldly beauty.

He frowned. She smelled like holly and oranges. That wasn’t right. And she seemed far too happy. Whoever he was looking for wasn’t happy with him. “No. You really couldn’t be.”

She took ahold of his arm, lowering her iridescent gold-shaded eyelids. “Let go and let me show you how sweet life can be.”

“No. I just—I need to go.” He shook the woman off.

An ache expanded within his chest. Whoever he was seeking, he had to find her. It wasn’t as if just any warm body would do. No matter how beautiful. No matter how sweet the voice. It was one person. One very specific person.

A few others tried to reach him. They grasped at his shoulders and his hands, but he tugged free. It was all maddening, trapping him in an endless spiral of muted color and perfume. With each breath it intensified. His head throbbed.

Reaching the center of the ballroom, he halted. The dancers all blended around him, moving past him as if he were a stone in the river. Where was she? Her name. He had to remember her name. Her face. Her scent. He’d lose his mind if he didn’t see her.

The dancers parted as if guided by invisible hands, and the music peaked. Someone else had arrived.

His breath caught in his throat as the music and everyone else faded from his awareness.

By the gods and all that was good and pure, had there ever been someone so beautiful? How could she even exist?

CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE

IDALNO

Idalno pressed her hands out until they reached cold stone. Apparently scolding nosy beggars was not a wise course of action in this place.

Especially if they were Puck. Because clearly that had been Puck. Damn him. Cursed blood beetle. Damn him into a centipede pit with leeches in his water. What was it Feron had called him? A bastard?Bastardwas too good for him. He was an obnoxious meddling blight upon faedom or whatever this place was. A blight upon every sentient being out there!

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