Page 114

Reclining against the backdrop of his family’s banner, Kato surveyed the room—the stage where the nobility idled in their finery, the people still flowing in.

He stared at a Lowborn boy long enough that he ducked his head, sidling closer to what could’ve been a mother or a sister as they waited to go up one of the many sets of stairs leading to the upper terraces.

Kato knew his role at these sorts of functions. And he played it well. The fallen prince, full of meanness and spite. He’d fallen back into that old character with an ease that left him feeling… unsettled.

“Sire,” a black-eyed man from Agno crooned, bowing.

Kato waved him on. Too easy. All of it was too easy.

He’d already broken up three alliances. And the couple arguing in the corner—that was also him.

He’d spent the early part of the evening eavesdropping and figuring out the juiciest gossip.

Then he’d pretended to be an usher, rearranging seats and putting all the wrong people together.

He had six fights going on in terraces one, three, and four, with a seventh just getting underway down on the main stage.

Not for any good reason. He’d just been bored.

He was still bored, and his heel tapped idly. If something interesting didn’t happen soon, he was considering starting a war.

Just a small one. Mostly trade. There was this little strait that served as the dividing line between Bontu and Tira. Yes, an endangered species of otter called it home, but this was getting dire.

“Whatever it is you’re doing, stop it.”

Well, there went his war. The otters in the strait would undoubtedly be happy. Kato smirked as their unwitting savior sat down beside him.

Aimee Bryer.

He sat up a bit, crossing one leg over the other and watching as she smoothed a hand over the gauzy red and gold layers of her dress.

She was beautiful, but then water mages always were.

Not a hair out of place, and who knew how many glamours masked her face—reshaping her nose and mouth, deepening the sapphire blue of her eyes into something rarer and more coveted.

He could sense at least six layers of enchantment, enough that for all he knew she could be naked under there. She could be a literal ogre, and no one would ever be the wiser.

“Thank the Shards,” he said. “I was this close to death by boredom. Amuse me, peasant.”

Aimee’s lips thinned. “Entertain yourself. I’m not your personal jester.”

“Oh, come on. You’re more fun than killing otters. Barely, but still.”

“Wow. I’m so… honored?”

“When is this thing supposed to start?”

“When everyone’s seated.”

Kato groaned. “That’s going to take so long.”

Aimee arched a brow, but whatever she was about to say was forgotten when a booming voice announced, “Lord Kato. What an absolute pleasure to see you here.”

The man in front of them wore a ridiculously ornate suit, complete with gold embroidery and tassels that screamed, I have more money than taste. The woman on his arm was a perfect match, dressed in a gown that probably cost more than a small airship.

“Your recent heroics are all anyone’s talking about.” The woman’s smile was the kind that said everything nice while meaning exactly none of it. “Rescuing the Savior of Ebondrift and bringing her to safety—truly remarkable. You must tell us all about it.”

For the life of him, Kato could not remember their names. Thankfully, Aimee swooped in.

“Lord Eldridge, what a delight to see you. And Lady Blackwood, you look absolutely radiant tonight.”

Kato sat back, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched the exchange.

Aimee was good at it—the game. He’d give her that.

Every laugh, every compliment was calibrated for maximum effect.

She leaned in like she was letting them in on a secret, nodded like they’d said something wise. By the end, they were half spellbound.

“It’s been delightful catching up with you both.” Aimee’s voice was warm honey, smooth and sweet, her jeweled combs glinting as if the light itself conspired to flatter her. “I’m sure the assembly will be quite eventful.”

“Indeed, Lady Bryer,” said the man. Kato had already forgotten his name again. “We must find time to chat more during the reception.”

“Your insights are always so refreshing,” the lady added, her smile, already teetering on the edge of absurdity, somehow managing to widen. An impressive feat of muscle control, if nothing else.

“Of course, I look forward to it. Enjoy the evening, both of you,” Aimee replied with a perfectly timed nod.

Lord Brownnose and his lady wandered off. Aimee sighed and turned back to Kato.

“What?” she snapped.

“Nothing.”

“Not all of us were born at the top of the ladder.”

He raised his hands. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Your face did.”

Kato leaned back. He almost wanted to laugh. The courtiers had claws, make no mistake. But they so rarely worked up the courage to turn them back on him. Maybe that’s why he kept coming back to this one.

“I—” he started to say.

But she held up a hand. “No, we’re done now,” she said as Aiden strode across the main stage, coming up the stairs between the rows.

“Well?” she asked.

Aiden nodded as he took his seat beside her. “They’re ready.”

Kato perked up at that. Finally, something interesting. “Ready for what?”

“Just a little political theater,” Aiden said.

“You know how these things go. The nobility start circling like vultures if they think there’s even a whisper of power up for grabs.

Given the very delicate state of the city, our aunt thought it might be a good idea to remind everyone here that we all agreed to be on our best behavior tonight. ”

“Do you know the story of Solnar?” Aimee asked, rubbing her palms together and kneading the water magic forming between them.

Kato shook his head. “On Tempris, they believe that before the Sacred Six, before the Judge, his Sickness, and his war, the Magnus fathered other children with the Mother of Creation.”

She met Aiden’s gaze and gave a small nod. Placing both hands on the mass of vines forming the ground at their feet, his aether pulsed.

A hush fell over the room as each individual flower closed on a whisper, the light inside winking out.

“First came the Land,” Aimee said into the darkness that followed. “Then the Oceans.”

She exhaled slowly and pressed her hands forward, releasing the glamour into the air. The glow unraveled in delicate streams, stretching outward like ink in water, swirling into the space above the main stage.

A single spark flared in the dark.

Then planets wheeled into motion, drifting within the vast column of air that rose through the center of the space like a window to the cosmos. They spiraled outward, as if propelled by the force of creation itself.

“After the Oceans came the blue expanse of the Heavens,” Aimee continued softly.

Still weaving the glamour, she painted blue ribbons beneath the leafy canopy.

“Then the Stars that the Magnus commanded to shine.”

Among them, white pinpricks blinked open.

“Then the Sun and the Moon that he placed to watch over them.”

A brilliant ball of light blazed to life, a silver moon glowing gently at her side.

With a flick of Aimee’s wrist, they began to orbit the perimeter of the room side by side. Spinning ever faster, glowing ever brighter, they cast flickering light over the terraces where people reached out, fingers grasping, their smiling faces illuminated by the fiery glow.

“Back then, her light could not burn him,” Aimee said as the Sun’s fire wrapped gentle arms around the silver glow of the Moon.

“And they eventually fell in love. They spent every waking moment together, every day and every night, dancing and spinning across the wide expanse of their sister Heaven.”

They circled one another in a never-ending waltz, the sun’s wild energy chasing the moon’s quiet grace.

“But the Stars got jealous. Because love makes us radiant, and the Sun shined so brightly, there was never any night. They never got to be seen in all their glory.”

All around, stars rained down like streaks of light.

Kato craned his head, searching the terraces. That little bit of magic hadn’t come from Aimee.

And neither did the heat that kissed his face as the Sun and Moon completed another orbit, close enough that he could’ve reached out to touch them.

“They’re adding to it,” he murmured. Not the nobility in the stadium, seated demurely in their vine-and-flower thrones.

But the people in the audience—the Lowborn and wellborn sitting on the terraces.

Even the Shardless were lighting candles, a few groups scattered throughout, but most of them congregating along the top two rows.

“They know the story,” Aimee said, the flashes of magic setting each one of the jewels in her hair and on her dress sparkling. “They know what comes next.”

“And in case they didn’t,” Aiden said, lowering his voice as he leaned in, “Sarina’s been running the story in the paper all week.”

Kato huffed a laugh. Fire mages were usually all heat and impulse. This one played the slow burn. That, he could respect.

The Sun and the Moon were suddenly ripped to opposite sides of the room.

Aimee continued, “The Magnus declared that for every day there must be a night. That it was the natural order. He made her fire burn and turned his heart to ice.”

Indeed, ice began to crack, creeping along the face of the Moon. They still careened through their orbit, skimming just inches from the audience, but on opposite sides now. The Sun left a blazing trail of heat in its wake, while the Moon spun as a frozen mass, its surface fracturing with each pass.

Kato could feel the magic pulsing from the terraces above him, each spark a ripple in the air. He could hear their voices—soft murmurs weaving through the crowd as they whispered the story to those beside them.