Emily Rosewood's Point Of View.
I felt the string of my masquerade mask loosen, slipping against my skin before finally giving way after hours of wear. With a small sigh, I reached up and untied it completely, the soft fabric was brushing my fingers. The moment I pulled the mask off, I felt the cool air touch my face, and it was almost a relief, like I could finally breathe again.
The marks from the ribbon still pressed faintly into my skin, warm and tender, and I rubbed them gently while staring down at the mask in my hand. It had hidden me all evening, but now, without it, I felt strangely exposed and free at the same time.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror, watching how the soft golden lights above wrapped my face in a gentle warmth, giving my skin a faint glow. The music from
