The Masquerade Ball

Jasper

“This is… Ah,” Jasper pulled a face, gesturing out with his hands, causing the tailor to pause in his adjustments of the fit of the jacket. “I mean,” he continued apologetic to the man. “It’s very nice, I’m sure, but…”

“You are the King of Diamonds,” Charlotte laughed at him, flicking the lace fan that she held, the hearts unfolding into a chain of blood-like red against the froth of white. “You have to sparkle, Jasper.”

“Yeah,” he drew the word out. “I think I outsparkle the sun in this costume however.” The suit was black, thankfully, but it was embroidered with gold thread and sequins and crystals competed to outshine each other, stiffening the fabric. The trousers were so form-fitting that they left nothing to the imagination, and the waistcoat was cut to emphasize that.

The jacket, with it’s stiff fabric, when buttoned offered some relief, covering what felt to be the emphasis of his groin. The tailor, however, was folding back the hem with the obvious intention to pin it to show the red and gold lining.

“Umm…” Jasper tried again. “I like the jacket better the way it was.”

“The King of Diamonds doesn’t want to show off the family jewels,” Charlotte snickered.

“No, he doesn’t,” Jasper agreed emphatically. “Really,” he added to the tailor who shrugged slightly and released the fabric that he’d been folding back. “Thank you.”

“You’re no fun, Jasper,” Charlotte tsked.

“I’m not an idiot,” he told her. “I know that you left this fitting until literally the last second on purpose so I couldn’t argue the costume.”

“You knew that it was a masquerade ball,” she reminded him, twisting in front of the mirror in order to admire herself. Her costume styled her as the Queen of Hearts in figure hugging red satin with an overskirt layered with black lace and shimmering with black gemstones. Her hair had been styled and dressed to hang in ringlets over her shoulder, and her lips painted in a tightly pursed heart. A black beauty spot in the shape of a heart rode her cheekbone just below the gold of her mask.

“I did,” he stepped down as the tailor released him. “But I expected a tux and mask not… this,” he reviewed himself in the mirror.

“This is more fun,” she grinned delighted, turning and smoothing her hands down the lapels of the jacket. “And you look so handsome, Jasper.”

“Tell me that we’re not the only people who are going to be dressed like this,” he asked her urgently. “Because if that’s the case, Charlotte, I’m changing right now.”

“It’s a costume themed masquerade ball, with every guest assigned a court depending on whose invite list they came from,” she rolled her eyes as if he were being foolish. “Mother is the Queen of Spades, and father is the King of Clubs. I am the Queen of Hearts, and you, the owner of the family jewels,” she wrinkled her nose with her grin. “Are the King of Diamonds.”

Jasper heaved a sigh. “If dad’s not wearing something stupid like this – forgive me,” he nodded to the tailer who was still packing up his kit. “It’s an amazing suit for someone else. My sister’s taste and mine doesn’t always align, and I made the mistake,” he said through his teeth, turning his eyes back to Charlotte. “Of assuming when Charlotte told me that my suit was ordered, my taste had been taken into account.”

“It’s black, isn’t it?” She replied. “Now put on your mask and stop pouting. Our guests are arriving.”

“I’m not pouting,” Jasper replied as he tied on the mask, the diamond design making clear what house of cards he belonged to. “I am regretting tucking left. You don’t own a cock; you have no idea how awkward trousers this tight are.”

“Aww, Jaspie’s worried he’ll - ”

“Say it, and I’ll step on your hem on the way down the stairs,” he told her as he opened the bedroom door for her. They stepped out into the hallway, the noise of the arriving guests rising to greet them, the voices a cacophony that all but drowned out the stringed quartet who was playing during the arrivals.

A popular band had been setting up in the ballroom when Jasper had returned to the house from the folly where he’d spent much of the last week. At least the music for the main part of the party promised to be decent, he told himself as he paused, one hand on the balustrade, looking down into the foyer that seethed with people and waiters carrying trays of champagne flutes and canapes.

“You would not dare,” Charlotte rapped her fan against his chest. “You’re just sulky because I dragged you out of your folly in order to make you dance the night away.”

“I was in the middle of something,” he agreed. “I’ve only been home a week, Lottie. You didn’t give me time to settle back in.”

“This is your welcome home party, Jaspie,” she told him through her smile as they began to descend the stairs. “Your reintroduction to the pack as the heir-apparent, and to the young pack members, amongst whom you’ll, hopefully, find your mate. You can’t spend all your time in the folly. You have to help dad out with the pack and the business.”

“Hmm,” he couldn’t argue with that. He had been, perhaps, negligent in his duties to his family and pack, spending his time in the folly with his paints, but after five intense years studying, he’d been enjoying the freedom of spending his time as he choose, staying up as long as he liked, waking when suited him, and the folly had been the perfect place for him to do so, in the privacy of the maze, away from the house.

“Alright,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll do better.”

“Thank you Jaspie,” she said as they entered the ballroom.

They weren’t the most elaborately dressed amongst the guests, he saw with relief. Some had taken it further, really leaning into the theme. The good thing about a masquerade ball was that they weren’t expected to host, he noted as they passed unnoticed and unremarked amongst the guests. In order to maintain the game of being masked, they could just drift amongst everyone else, and everyone pretended not to know who they were.

There was a lot of curiosity, however, he noted, and stiffened his back, straightening his shoulders, knowing that he was being evaluated and judged by those gazes, and as the next lead alpha of the pack, he had to present himself as the epitome of what a pack looked for in an alpha, even if it were a lie.

It was all a lie, and that was one reason for him hiding in the folly. He had been avoiding what he knew was a very necessary conversation with his family.

“Oh my god,” Charlotte murmured.

“What?” He looked up, following her gaze and felt as if someone had struck him in the gut.

A young man had entered the ballroom, the crowd seeming to part around him naturally. He wore red with black heart details, broad shoulders filling his suit jacket perfectly, the cut following the lean lines of his torso to where it buttoned at his narrow waist.

Jasper wet his lips, catching the bottom one between his teeth. Fuck, he blew out a slow breath, seeking control of his racing heart. There was something to how the other man moved, a combination of predatory confidence and grace, that declared him to be an alpha in every way.

“King of Hearts?” Jasper wondered, breathlessly.

“A Knave, more likely,” Charlotte corrected, her fan working hard, lifting Jasper’s hair.

As if sensing their eyes on him, the Knave looked their way, and smiled.