Chapter 43 – Toward the Masquerade Ball
Morning had come. The first rays of sunlight illuminating the stone streets of Venice streamed through the curtains of Giovanni's villa, falling gently into the rooms. The chirping of birds mixed with distant church bells; the city was waking to a new day.
But for Balibey, the night had never ended.
Sleep had not touched his eyes. He had spent the entire night sitting at the edge of his bed, silently scolding himself. The slip of his tongue, nearly revealing fragments of his past, still echoed relentlessly in his mind.
He straightened up abruptly, running his hands over his face. He was exhausted; the dark circles under his eyes betrayed the long, restless night. Dressing hastily, he opened his door to head down for breakfast… and found Viki standing right in front of him.
She was at the door, clearly waiting.
Balibey's face hardened. He spoke in a sharp tone:
"What is it? Have you started standing guard at my door now?"
Viki flinched slightly, then looked him up and down. She immediately noticed the shadows under his eyes. It was obvious he hadn't slept. Normally, she would've snapped back at such rudeness, but this time, she didn't. She had made a silent decision: today, she would overlook his boorishness.
In a calm voice, she replied:
"Breakfast is ready. Everyone's downstairs. You're the only one missing. I was worried and came to check on you."
Balibey paused for a moment. He averted his gaze, then stiffened again:
"Don't worry about me. Don't concern yourself with anything about me."
With that, he brushed past her and headed down the stairs. Viki shrugged, sighed softly, and quietly followed behind.
Downstairs, in the large dining hall that opened into the summer garden, Murat and Giovanni were seated at the breakfast table, reviewing the final details of the evening's plan. Steaming cups of tea, warm pastries, and freshly squeezed juices decorated the table. Cafer and Kasım were already seated.
Murat caught sight of Balibey descending the stairs and smiled slightly:
"Good morning, Balibey. You're usually never late. This isn't like you."
As Viki entered the room behind him, Murat added:
"Even Viki went up to check on you."
Balibey bowed his head. The fatigue on his face was undeniable. His voice was low and apologetic:
"Forgive me, my Sultan. I suppose I'm not used to the bed. The night wasn't very restful."
Murat gave him a meaningful glance, noting the shadows beneath his eyes, but said nothing further. He nodded and spoke gently:
"Better late than never. Eat—today will be long."
Balibey quietly sat down. Viki took the seat directly across from him. Their eyes did not meet, but both were thinking of the other—one trying to make sense of things, the other struggling to suppress what he felt.
As a new morning began in Venice, the true masks had yet to be worn at this shadowed table. But as the hours passed... it wouldn't be faces, but hearts that would need hiding.
—
Balibey stood at the end of the corridor. Raising his voice slightly, he called toward Viki's room:
"The carriage has arrived, young lady. We're waiting for you, hurry up."
With a sigh, he descended the stairs. Downstairs, Murat stood in front of the large mirror near the salon. He wore a midnight blue coat, a vest embroidered with silver, and dark trousers. His collar was left slightly open. Draped over one shoulder, a sleek black cloak gave him the air of a noble from the shadows.
Balibey, too, was dressed for the ball. He wore a tailored black jacket with subtle armored detailing across the chest. A deep maroon sash was tightly wrapped around his waist. His outfit made him look both noble and warrior-like.
Murat glanced up and turned to Balibey:
"Viki isn't ready yet?"
Balibey smirked and replied in a half-mocking, half-poetic tone:
"Neither the sick await the dawn,
Nor the dead their grave,
Nor the devil a sin,
As much as a man waits on a woman…"
Murat burst into laughter. "You're absolutely right, Balibey," he said.
Just then, the sound of high-heeled shoes echoed from upstairs. The rhythmic steps on the wooden staircase drew both men's eyes upward.
"She's finally coming…" Balibey murmured.
Murat nodded. "Giovanni, Kasım, and Cafer already left. Kitchen prep should be done."
"Indeed, my Sultan," Balibey confirmed.
Then Viki appeared. She descended the stairs slowly, wearing a dark green satin gown that shimmered in the light. The bodice was elegantly fitted, the skirt full but not ostentatious. Her hair, curled to her shoulders, was adorned with a few golden rings. Her light makeup accentuated her eyes, and her lips held a delicate pink hue.
Balibey stared, struck by an unfamiliar flutter in his chest. He wanted to look away, but couldn't.
Viki noticed his gaze but pretended not to, continuing her descent. On the final step, she smirked and said teasingly:
"I'm here. Don't explode, Balibey."
Just as he was about to retort, Murat cut in:
"All right, let's go. This isn't the time for flirting."
Both turned crimson instantly. Murat laughed heartily at the sight.
"Save it for the carriage ride," he added, heading for the door.
Without a word, Balibey followed Viki. She turned her head slightly and offered a small smile. The three of them climbed into the carriage and set off toward the ball—a night of masks and shadows awaited them.
The carriage rolled slowly along the stone-paved streets. Night had fully settled over Venice. The moon hung pale in the sky, a soft wind stirred, and distant notes of violins and cellos hinted that the masquerade had already begun.
The driver called back:
"We'll be arriving shortly, sir."
At that cue, the three inside quietly donned their masks. Murat wore a deep blue mask trimmed with golden edges. Balibey's face was covered by a black mask with silver texture that made his features even more austere. Viki's mask was a delicate masterpiece—white, feather-like patterns spiraling around her eyes, with intricate details like a swan's wing.
The carriage came to a halt in front of the Gritti estate. The place looked more like a small palace than a residence—arched stone gates, ornate balconies, and softly lit windows conveyed silent grandeur. Guests in fine dress walked up the stone pathway toward the wide marble stairs.
Balibey stepped out first, casting a quick but thorough glance around. Then, turning to Viki, he offered his hand. She placed hers gently in his, stepping out with grace. Murat followed last, his cloak flowing behind him like a shadowed prince.
At the entrance, two guards received them. Viki presented three elegant invitations. With a nod, the guards allowed them to enter.
As they climbed the marble steps, the music became clearer—laughter, clinking silverware, and orchestral melodies filled the grand hall.
The doors were magnificent: tall oak panels intricately carved and wide open. Crystal chandeliers lit the room with dazzling brilliance. Gilded columns and silk wall tapestries spoke volumes of the Gritti family's wealth and taste.
At the door, a man stood to personally greet the guests.
"Welcome," he said, his voice refined but authoritative. "Thank you for attending my gathering tonight. I am Senyor Gritti."
In that moment, a jolt struck through Murat.
This man... He was the first target. The enemy. And here he stood, in the flesh.
Gritti extended his hand, his eyes filled with a warm civility, but beneath it lurked arrogance, expertly veiled.
Murat hesitated, pushed down the storm inside him, and offered a diplomatic smile as he shook the hand.
"Thank you for hosting us and for this exquisite evening, Senyor Gritti," he said—his tone measured, concealing something deeper beneath.
Masks... could hide everything. Faces, intentions, even rage.
Gritti nodded politely and ushered them in. As they passed through the grand doors, a night cloaked in music, masks, and silent intentions had begun.