An hour into the ball and I’m starting to doubt that this is anything but a waste of time. We’re in a vast ballroom with decorations reminiscent of the Golden Hall. The various pillars which hold up the vaulted ceiling are also white marble gilded in gold, and there’s a similar gold-plated vaulted ceiling that magnifies the light emanated by scores of floating luminescent balls. The fresh flower and citrus-scented breeze which sweeps through the space is another match. But those are where the similarities end.

  Here, there is even more emphasis on gold than in the ‘Golden’ Hall – two of the walls are extravagant mosaics where the dominant colour is gold. Clearly no one told the designer that too much of it looks like compensation. The other two walls in this ballroom, however, are unbroken mirrors, making the space look several times bigger than it really is. I can only hope that as much magic has been used to protect them from damage as must have been used in their construction – Seven years of bad luck for breaking a mirror – what about a mirror that size?

  Since this is a ballroom, not a dining room, there are fewer tables or chairs. The few that are present line one of the mosaic-decorated walls – the one that doesn’t have archways leading outside into an admittedly beautiful garden. The tables contain magnificently-presented finger food, interposed with sculptures and drinks. Sometimes the two are combined – I noticed a dragon which was also a drink dispenser, someone controlling its neck to direct a stream of blue liquid from its belly, through its jaws, and into his glass. Waiters also circle the area with trays, quietly approaching groups of people to offer them refreshments.

  I rub at the ring currently sitting on my right index finger. Since this isn’t dinner in the Golden Hall, being poisoned is a possibility, and even I can see how many opportunities there are for someone to slip something into a drink here. As a result, Nicholas insisted on me using the poison detector – since I haven’t yet tested out how well I can deal with poisons in this new world, I didn’t argue. It hasn’t activated yet, but I’ve been drinking and eating sparingly. It’s not like I have much appetite.

  “Lord Markus?” I hold in my sigh with more than a little effort. I turn to see that a young-looking lady dressed in leaf-green robes with brown embroidery has approached me and is bowing deeply with her hands pressed together against her chest. Thanks to Nicholas’ etiquette training, I’m able to interpret that she’s part of a Lesser House, but not the heir. So, in this room, she’s at the bottom of the hierarchy, if the waiters themselves are discounted.

  “Yes?” I ask, forcing my irritation back. I’m pretty sure I know why she’s here.

  “Sera Lisana, of House Bloom.” She giggles slightly, the sound grating to my ears. “I just wanted to say how masterful your performance was in the duel today.”

  I struggle not to yawn. Even the first time I heard a similar comment, it was blatantly false flattery. Funnily enough, all of those who have been so effusive in their praise have been young women – all non-heirs.

  Nicholas’ comments on betrothals play in my head again. Heir to a Great House, I would be considered quite a catch. Maybe someone else would be flattered at the attention; I’m not. They’re not actually interested in me after all.

  I’ve received plenty of attention from some young men too, but I suspect that’s more in the pursuit of creating a positive connection between me and them, perhaps preceding an alliance of some sort. There have been many more heirs in that group. Interestingly, after Nicholas urged me to leave his side, I haven’t been approached by many House Lords and Ladies – I guess because, Great House or not, I’m still just an heir.

  The rest of our conversation goes on in a similarly inane vein, the girl sending looks off towards the woman dressed in similar colours who seems to be doing her best not to appear to be paying attention. The puppetmaster, I comment sardonically to myself. More than half the young women who have approached me have had their mothers nearby.

  I need a break.

  I manage to evade being trapped into taking the girl for a dance and make my escape towards the gardens. On my way, I snag a fluted glass of the green-tinged liquid that I recognise from the dinners I’ve spent in the Golden Hall. The citrus and jasmine-scented breeze keeps the room from becoming too hot, but it still manages to be stifling. Or maybe that’s just the people.

  Sipping from the glass of what tastes like fruity wine, I step through the gilded golden archways and into the far quieter magnificence of the garden. I know I shouldn’t go too far – the whole point of me attending the ball at all is to establish an image of a ‘proper’ heir and to gather information, but a few minutes’ break can’t hurt.

  I pass through an archway formed by the hedges around and into a garden which looks more like an arbour out of Eden than something earthly. Nodding blooms surround the base of venerable trees, their trunks knotted and twisted with age, their canopies pruned to perfection.

  Sitting on a perfectly positioned bench, I take a moment just to breathe. I understand why Nicholas called the calming draught a ‘blanket’ – it feels just like that. I can still feel the shape of the worry, fear, and urgency that lie beneath my seeming calm, but they’re distant. Unreachable. They don’t affect me much.

  I’m not emotionless – I can still feel irritated and amused, but even those lesser emotions are fleeting and less impactful. Controlling my reactions has been significantly easier for me tonight than ever before, that’s for sure.

  But that doesn’t mean I’ve lost sight of why I’m here. Taking a moment, I reach out to my Bound.

  Seen anything?

  That human you told us to watch for met with the human you fought, Bastet tells me.

  What? Torrent met with Fell? I ask, sitting up straight. I wonder if I misread the Fell heir’s level of threat – I had been sure he didn’t intend on remaining my enemy, but if he’s plotting with Torrent again….

  Backed him against a wall. Posturing worse than two males of my kind who each want to be the one to mate, Bastet confirms. The conversation might not have been voluntary on Fell’s part, then.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  What did they talk about?

  It was too far for me to hear – they were speaking quietly. But the younger one seemed frightened when he walked past us shortly after.

  Could Torrent be threatening Valence to do something? Or is he threatening retribution for revealing his name to me? I should try to speak with Fell before the end of the night – see if I can get a better idea of where his mind is right now.

  Have you seen Torrent speaking to anyone else? Or anything else interesting?

  No. Only lots of humans passing into the hall, and a few exiting, summarises Bastet for me.

  That figures.

  And none of them have been talking about any nefarious schemes? I check – if Torrent was willing to threaten Valence not far from the main door, maybe others might have been open about their own plans.

  Does wanting to mate with you count? Lathani asks curiously. Because several I’ve heard wanted to do that.

  I grimace.

  No, it doesn't count, I reluctantly tell her – uncomfortable, yes. Nefarious, no. Not unless they’re planning on…mating with me and then killing me or something.

  Only one of them intended that, Lathani tells me helpfully.

  Wonderful, I say to myself, intentionally not projecting it to the rest of my companions. Well, I continue, this time speaking to them, just keep watching and listening, please.

  After the chorus of agreement from the group hiding out near the main doors into the ballroom, I pull back from my connection with them.

  “A lovely night tonight, is it not?”

  The voice purring from far too close sends a jolt through me that’s sharp enough to pierce the blanket of calm from the draught. I open the eyes that I hadn’t realised I’d closed and see the distinct form of Lord Torrent standing only three paces away from me, half-hidden by the shadow of a tree. Speak of the devil. The gardens are lit by fairy lights strewn all over the surrounding foliage, but their light is far dimmer than the orbs within the ballroom. There are more shadows than anything else, something Lord Torrent is taking full advantage of.

  Suspicion and fiery anger curdle together in my stomach; the potion allows me to recognise their presence without giving into their impulses. Still, if I’m lucky, he’ll give me an excuse to beat the truth out of him – my instincts are screaming at me that he’s the one behind all of this.

  “Lord Torrent,” I greet. The dislike that makes my lip threaten to curl is unaffected by the potion. But in the absence of anger boiling inside me as it usually does, I’m able to force the niceties through. Still, I use the requirement to greet the higher-ranking lord with a bow as my excuse to stand up. I’d really rather not be sitting while this lord stands.

  He gives me the barest head-tilt – barely enough to meet the local standards of politeness.

  “Heir Titanbend,” He pronounces my House’s name with such distaste, I might have thought it tasted of manure in his mouth. “Congratulations on your performance in the duel today. It was…fascinating.”

  “Do you have any tips for the future?” I ask him politely, fixing my face into a mask. Even if my instincts are wrong and he’s not behind the kidnapping of my Bound, he’s certainly guilty of throwing another heir at me with the encouragement to make the duel lethal. And apparently threatening him only a short while ago. I don’t particularly like Valence as a person, but the way he was used as a disposable tool doesn’t speak well of Torrent either. “I would dearly like to make future performances just as enlightening.”

  His lips curl a touch, showing what he thinks of my riposte.

  “One tip in particular from experience. Do not become so dependent on living tools that you are unable to fight well without them. They are so unreliable – even if they don’t fail you, they have their own will, and can be…mislaid. Or worse, they can perish without any warning at all.”

  His tone is airy, but anger roars to life in my belly, its heat almost overwhelming despite the ‘blanket’ muffling it. Is this a confession?

  A moment later, I clamp down on it. I can be angry – later. I’m grateful once again for the calming draught. Nicholas was right – there’s no chance I would succeed in this if I didn’t have that distance between me and my emotions. The initial surge dealt with, I engage my brain.

  It could be a confession, but even if it is, it’s innocuous enough that I cannot be sure. A barb at a Tamer’s dependence on Bonded and no more. I need more.

  “I am not in the habit of mislaying my Bonded – or letting them perish without consequence,” I warn, my own words just as innocuous as Torrent’s were.

  “Is that so?” Torrent’s tone is flawlessly conversational. “I hope that you continue to find yourself so lucky in this new world. It is full of dangers, you see. Some you expect…some you don’t.”

  I grin at him, showing my teeth.

  “I’ve become good at spotting dangers, thank you for your concern.”

  “Oh, I’m sure, but you are, excuse me for saying this, in an unfamiliar world. I fear that you may not yet be sure of exactly where your limits lie, tempted by the power and privilege of your new station. I would hate for you to step too far into the pool before you are ready and be drowned by the current.”

  “I’m not worried – I’m a pretty strong swimmer, Lord Torrent.”

  His eyes search my face for a moment more, a hint of a frown that I can thank Animal Empathy for helping me to spot. I’m not responding how he wants. Good.

  That’s the only pleasure I can take in the situation, though. What are his words about? Were my Bound kidnapped because I called Torrent out in the duel? But how come they were being followed three days ago, then? Or are the two incidents not actually linked? In a way, that’s even more worrying because it would mean I have two wealthy enemies.

  “It is clear that you are not ready to hear my warning,” he tells me after a moment, his voice taking on a weary fatherly tone that makes me want to stab him. Hard. He shakes his head sorrowfully. “I hope that you will hear it before it is too late and you have lost too much. I shall bid you goodnight for now, Heir Titanbend.” He nods at me and turns to leave.

  “Goodnight, Lord Torrent,” I respond with a bow regardless – I won’t give him any excuse to accuse me of impropriety.

  He steps towards the verdant archway, then pauses and half-turns towards me.

  “Oh, Heir Titanbend, I almost forgot. If you ever happen to misplace something – or someone – consider coming to me. I have a reputation for being able to find things others cannot. I would be willing to aid you.” From the side, I see his lips curl into a wolfish grin that gleams whitely in the fairy lights. “For the right price, of course.”

  I’m frozen on my spot, less by fear and more by the struggle with my immediate urge to leap forward to wipe that smile off his face, and preferably remove his head from his neck at the same time.

  That bastard!

  By the time I regain control of myself, Torrent is gone.

  here!

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