THIRD PERSON’S POV
The Isle of Asseos, INFERNO. 1946.
The night is cold; showers of gold and silver light shone with sharp elegance over the richly-furnished ballroom, the sweet melody of Liszt’s Liebesträume playing over the background.
Alastair Black, leaning against one of the pillars outside the hall, was tossing an apple in the air, catching it again as her eyes darted across the corridor to a familiar figure dashing down the staircase.
“The marquis is calling for you,” Damien said, brushing his messy hair away from his forehead and fixing his tie.
Alastair just nodded and headed the other way, ignoring the occasional glances from guests, and slid one hand on the pocket of her jeans.
She looked extremely out of place from the sea of satin and silk that filled the manor. The sl
