Men and ladies dressed in their finest fill the grand hall of the Prince’s palace, their identities hidden behind ornate masks. They laugh and gossip, enjoying themselves as the night goes on. Food and drink pass freely, and the music is never ending. In the center of the dance floor for all to see, Paris and Romana move elegantly across the room. 

“Are you enjoying yourself, Romana?” Paris asks sweetly.

His grip is tight on her hand and waist, the lack of space between their bodies almost indecent. Romana wants nothing more than to escape his grasp, but she masks her displeasure with a smile.

“Very much, Paris,” Romana says. “You are much too kind to attend me.”

He chuckles.

“I’m truly blessed to have a woman such as you on my arm.”

Paris commands attention as he leads her through the dance; with his family’s crest proudly on display on his chest, there is no question who the man behind the mask is. As they twirl past the crowd of onlookers and fellow dancers, Romana can hear the whisper of his name on their lips as well as their curiosity about her identity.

“That’s Lord Capulet’s daughter?”

“Do you think she’s truly as beautiful as they say?”

“Hard to tell with that mask on her face.”

She catches a glimpse of her father in the crowd, and notices the proud smile on his face. No doubt he spread word of Paris’ intentions. Possibly in an effort to keep other potential suitors at bay. Her jaw clenches. 

“Tell me,” Paris says softly, “are you fond of flowers?”

“Pardon?”

“I heard from Lord Capulet that you often spend time in your garden.”

Because that is as far outside as I am allowed, she thinks bitterly.

“I suppose I do hold a fondness for them, yes,” she says.

“Then what say you to a spring wedding?”

Her breath catches in her throat. She stops moving, and they stand still against the flow of dancers. Paris doesn’t seem to mind. His eyes never leave hers as he squeezes her hands and continues talking passionately.

“Flowers will cover every inch of the church. In every color and size, and we’ll choose only the best to adorn your hair.” He runs his hand lovingly through her locks, bringing their ends to his lips for a kiss. “Just the thought of it steals my breath away.” 

The dance ends before Romana can speak, and a nobleman takes that opportunity to approach.

“Count Paris, a moment, please.”

Romana seizes her opportunity to escape as she feels Paris’ hand tugging her along.

“I must rest, Paris,” she whispers. “I’m feeling a little faint.”

She feels a moment of guilt at the concern on his face.

“Shall we find a place to sit and call for aid?”

“No!” Romana half yells. “Please, don’t mind me. I won’t be too far, and Chimere will be by my side.”

Paris studies her before he nods reluctantly.

“I’ll only be a moment.”

“Thank you,” Romana says. 

Chimere chuckles as she comes to her side.

“I’m surprised he let you go.”

“As am I,” Romana says with a sigh. “I feared he may never give me a moment of peace.”

“So? Are you going to meet your paramour?” Chimere teases.

“Shh! Someone will hear you!”

“Oh, who cares if they do,” Chimere says, waving her off. “Everyone is too preoccupied with their own rendezvous to care about yours.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Romana says, glancing around. Though she doesn’t see him, she can sense her father lost somewhere in the crowd.

“Enough worrying! For now, we must find him.”

“In a sea of masks?” Romana says pointedly.

Chimere takes her arm.

“Have a little faith. We’ll find him before the night is through.”

⬥⬥⬥

Benvolio stands by Lord and Lady Montague’s side, smiling politely at the nobleman speaking to them. His eyes behind his mask stray to the crowd, searching for someone in a sea of strangers. 

“What do you think, Benvolio?” Lord Montague says, drawing his attention back to the conversation.

“I—”

“Apologies, Father,” Julius says, stepping out of the crowd with Mercutio closely behind, “but I’m afraid Benvolio’s presence is needed elsewhere.”

Lord Montague scowls.

“What do you—”

“Forgive me, Uncle,” Benvolio says quickly. “I promise to return soon.”

“Mercutio will keep you entertained in the meantime,” Julius says as he follows Benvolio away.

Mercutio’s eyes widen in horror as Lord and Lady Montague's attention turn to him.

“Thank you, Julius,” Benvolio says as they wade through the crowd.

“Have you spotted your admirer?”

“Not yet, but I’m holding out hope.”

“Shall I help with the search? You need only tell me what she looks like.”

Benvolio pats his shoulder.

“You’ve already done more than enough, cousin. I can take it from here.”

“Well then, I better get back to Mercutio. I’m sure he could use the help. Send your admirer my regards, won’t you?”

Benvolio smiles warmly before hurrying on his way. Julius watches him, never taking his eyes from his back. He’ll make his move when Benvolio spots his lover, and begin his plan to steal her affections. He chuckles to himself. By the end of the night, Benvolio’s heart will be broken and Julius will have a new playmate.

As the festivities continue, two people—one in a black mask and one in gold—move through the crowd in search of each other. By a stroke of luck, from just a glimpse, they spot one another. Their hearts swell with excitement and nerves as time seems to stop around them. The black mask nods towards a balcony, and the golden mask moves to follow.

“Romana?” Chimere asks as she pulls away.

“I think I found him,” she says softly.

“You think?”

“I can’t be sure, but. . .” She stares in the direction she watched him disappear, her heart racing in her chest.

Chimere chuckles and gives her a gentle shove.

“Go,” she says. “I’ll hold off Count Paris and Lord Capulet.”

“Thank you. I promise I won’t be long.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, milady,” Chimere calls after her as she hurries away.

Romana moves through the crowd, her focus on the masked stranger. Her heart nearly stops at the sound of her name.

“Romana?” Lord Capulet calls. 

She ducks behind a pillar and holds her breath.

“Romana, my dear? Where are you?”

She squeezes her eyes shut, wishing him away.

“Lord Capulet?” Chimere’s voice answers. “There you are! I was just looking for you.”

“Where is Romana?”

“About that—”

Romana chances a peek around the pillar and makes eye contact with Chimere. She subtly shoos Romana away as she takes Lord Capulet’s arm. Sticking to the shadows to avoid being seen, Romana hurries towards the balcony. The music fades and the sound of merry making quiets as she pushes through the curtains and steps outside. 

She looks around. For a moment, her heart breaks. Did she miss him? Had she been mistaken? Before she can turn around and start her search anew, a pair of strong arms and a familiar scent envelope her.

“How I’ve longed to hold you in my arms again.”

Tears prick Romana’s eyes, her breath caught in her throat. A deep chuckle thrums through her back.

“Nothing to say, my love? After all this time apart, I would like to hear your voice.”

“Is. . .is it truly you?”

“Would you like to see for yourself?”

Slowly, she turns in his arms and locks eyes with the man behind the mask. Carefully, and with trembling fingers, she reaches up and removes it. She takes in the light dusting of freckles on his face, the dimples in his smile, and his warm gaze—all exactly as she remembers. Her tears fall as her smile widens.

“Benvolio,” she whispers.

He reaches up to remove her mask, and cups her face in his hands.

“Romana. It has been too long.”

The sound of breaking glass draws their attention to the balcony entrance but nothing is there save for the curtains.

“Let’s move a little further away, lest anyone see us before we hear them,” Benvolio says, gently guiding Romana further onto the balcony.

On the other side of the curtain, shards of glass digging into his palm, Julius stands in frozen rage. Romana Capulet. His Romana was Benvolio’s lover. It was something he couldn’t have foreseen in his wildest dreams. He hears Romana’s voice—filled with love and adoration—and it feels like a slap to the face. He hurries away from the curtains, taking the stairs two at a time.

How could he not have known? How could she not have told him? She told him everything! Or so he thought. This was worse than a surprise—this was a betrayal.

Lost in his thoughts and blindly moving through the crowd, he doesn’t notice the woman blocking his path until he nearly knocks her over.

“Oh!” she says, her white mask falling to the ground. “Pardon me, sir. Terribly sorry.”

Julius starts to move away when a voice in the crowd reaches him.

“Romana? Chimere?”

He notices the woman look in the direction the voice came from. His eyes narrow. If memory serves, Chimere is Romana’s nursemaid and constant companion. With the revelation of Benvolio courting Romana, there was no telling what else she was hiding. If there was anyone who knew just how far Romana has wronged him. . .

“Forgive me, fair lady,” he says sweetly with a bow. “How rude of me to reveal you in such a way.”

“Oh!” Chimere says, a blush coloring her cheeks. “Oh, no no. It’s fine.”

“But it is not. Please,” he holds out his hand, “allow me to make it up to you. Would you join me for a dance?”

“I-I would be delighted!” she squeaks. She glances at his hand, a gasp escaping her lips. “Sir! You’re injured!”

Julius curses under his breath as he finally notices the blood seeping from his hand. Chimere takes it carefully between hers. 

“We have to tend to this right away.”

“I—”

“Please,” Chimere insists. “It’ll only take a moment.”