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Sarina, exuding grace and authority in a striking white gown with red floral appliques that cascaded down from her shoulders to the hem, dropped into a curtsey. “That’s just a rumor, I’m afraid,” she said with a polite yet playful smile. The weapon of any seasoned courtier. “Though perhaps I did whisper the idea into Eldoran’s ear at the Midsommer’s Gala.”

Kalahad beckoned her to rise. “There’s no need to apologize. Lord Castaro, you are correct. Blunt but irrefutably accurate in your assessment, as always. Regrettably, there’s no escaping the necessity for a bit of bootlicking. If I seem remiss, it’s only because I’ve spent these last few days figuring out ways to make amends. And Kato. Welcome, my friend.”

To his credit, Kato managed a more convincing smile than Skye would’ve been able to given the circumstances. His brother had, after all, been used as a bridge to get to him. There was a tightness in his jaw but nothing else as Kato took the hand that was offered.

“I’m so glad to see you unharmed,” Kalahad said. “And young Skylen. I do hope you won’t let this... rather unfortunate incident form a rift between our esteemed families. Arylaan has long been a steadfast supporter of the Emrys’ rightful claim to the throne of Ghislain. It would be a tragedy to let such a minor setback tarnish the bond that binds us.”

Groveling wasn’t something that came naturally to the nobility. Their pride, as towering as their castles, hindered any semblance of humility.

Skye gave no answer, and Kalahad did not wait for one. Indeed, he turned back to Taly and took her hand a fraction too smoothly, a fraction too…familiar.

“Would you grant me the honor?” He kissed her knuckles, turning as he did—meeting Skye’s eyes and holding. A half-smirk. Then he placed her hand on his arm.

Skye went further into his happy place, attempting a polite enough smile as he thought about all the ways he would like to eviscerate this man.

He could make him match the decorations—

No—no, he cut that thought off. Even if this jackass had just, in a blatant disregard of social etiquette, stolen his date.

Taly, sensing the impending bloodshed, stepped into Kalahad’s space, slipping her hand more securely around his arm as she smiled up at him. “It would be an honor, my Lord.”

“Ah, lovely,” Kalahad exclaimed, delighted.

Skye could admit he hated the way that Taly looked next to him. In coordinating ensembles, they looked like a pair. He could also admit that wasn’t a useful emotion to be having right now, and perhaps the bond was making him irritable. It didn’t like seeing that fragment of his soul standing so close to the enemy.

Ivain paired off with Sarina, and Skye took his place next to Aimee. She murmured as he held out his arm. “Who would’ve thought the day would come when you’d willingly escort me to a ball? I guess miracles do happen.”

Skye’s eyes narrowed. “Was that… a joke?”

She let out a quiet laugh. “You know, I’m actually glad it didn’t work out between us. It occurs to me that you’re very stupid.”

Before he could say anything in his defense, she snapped, “Now, keep up. Your only job is to make me look good during the entrance, and then I want you to go away. You’re giving off a weird, broody aura, and I don’t need you scaring off potential suitors.”

“See,” Kato said from her other side. “I’m not the only one that noticed.”

“Seriously,” Aimee said, “he’s like a storm cloud.”

“Forecast today: 100% chance of brooding with a slight possibility of a smile after sunset.”

“You two are hilarious,” Skye drawled. They flashed him matching, sharp-edged grins. As Ivain and Sarina entered ahead of them, he straightened. “Into the harpies’ lair we go.”

Then, as one, they walked side-by-side into the formal dining hall as their names and titles were called.

Inside, floating orbs provided a warm, ambient glow amidst the branches of even more towering indoor trees draped in fragrant, wisteria-like blooms. They formed a red, drooping curtain that arched over a long, finely laid table dressed in gold satin. A thick ribbon of seemingly barren twigs buried in soft loam cut a dividing line down the table’s length, at first at odds with the otherwise overwhelming splendor of the room. But as the guests filed in, fresh buds began forming, dotting the once-barren twigs with signs of new life.

By the time Skye took his seat, those buds and blooms had assembled, forming tiny trees, shrubs, and a carpet of flowers. There were even birds, crafted from water, darting and weaving between the miniature branches as they stretched out and divided.

Taly sat beside Kalahad at the head of the table with Ivain across from her. The rest of them were scattered. It wasn’tunusual for the host to break up parties. After all, what good were these sorts of functions if not for forming new alliances? Still, Kalahad was toeing the line placing Skye at nearly the opposite end of the table as his date.

Up and down, rivaling noble houses exchanged pleasantries, veiling their political ambitions behind polite smiles. Almost every major family had representation, albeit mostly at the lower tiers of their internal hierarchies. Envoys, sent ahead to prepare their House’s interests ahead of the Aion Gate crossing, and whose objective remained largely unchanged, siege or no siege.

Skye could feel it in the air, smell it—thehunger.

Those with power had the luxury of resting on their laurels. Everyone else had to work to climb, and the siege presented a… unique opportunity—a chance to wrest away control of an asset that Ivain had in their eyes and, more importantly, the eyes of their family elders hoarded for himself.

Whoever controlled Tempris controlled the flow of trade to the mortal realm. It was a major moment of commerce when the two halves of the Imperium came back together. Until now, through a combination of Sarina’s political maneuvering and strategic shows of force, Ivain had managed to keep other noble presences out.

But now there was a chink in his armor.