Myra’s relatives all had a certain fashion of good breeding and inherent snobbery about them. A flock of birds plumed in fine clothing, strong perfumes, and large hats. Everyone congregated in the foyer as I met person...after person...after person.

Yes, here he is. Lady Rowena, it is your honor to meet the Lord of Posh and White Gloves. His vast wealth is only rivaled by his wrinkles, and several chins. He is followed closely by the immaculate, the immeasurable, and most esteemed Lady of Idle Prattle. Her talents include the ruination of good names and endless hours of talking about absolutely nothing...

Face. After face. After face.

Gods. Maybe I had died in Purgatory after all and gone to foulest pit in all the hells.

Levi and Dash collectively told a joke to the legion of suits and dresses, which was followed by pleasant laughter from everyone. Levi looked like he was in his element, effortlessly handling every person and answering each question with disarming wit. He knew when to listen, when to laugh, and when to tell a story that somehow related to everyone.

The waiting staff had indeed arrived a whole thirteen minutes before the party started. After a few awkward moments, they drifted through the crowd with food and drink. Nobody would be wanting for anything tonight. The music was on point too, as the band seemed to sense when the crowd needed something calm and innocuous, or if they needed something fast and familiar.

Music that felt like home. Music that made you feel alive.

At last, the greetings were done, and I had now managed to go an entire thirty minutes without screwing up. Sighing with relief, I went to toward the side bar, my glass entirely too empty of contents. That sigh turned to a grunt as I saw the people packed around Zachariah, whose hands moved effortlessly as he mixed drink after drink. The showoff seemed keen to entertain the nobles as he flipped bottles in circles only to have their necks land perfectly in his graceful fingers. He juggled glasses with one hand as he poured with the other, all while listening to the people's orders. He may have refused my coin, but there was no doubt he would be making some tips tonight.

Looking mournfully at my glass, I thought about finding a corner to observe the crowd until I felt Dash’s presence beside me. He grinned with white teeth as he canted his head, his arms folded behind his back. He indicated Zachariah's bar.

“Well then miss Maid of Honor, shall we steal away to see what other spirits are to be had in this house? Since our other option is to wait an eternity for a decent drink?” he leaned toward me conspiratorially, “I hear Lord Beaufoutone has a particularly wonderful oak-aged whiskey stashed in the men’s parlor with unparalleled cigars. He has offered them, and a few gents and I are interested in gathering there."

I gave him a skeptical look.

“Are you, a well-bred gentleman, inviting an unmarried lady to the men’s parlor? Without a chaperone?” I asked. He looked at me evenly, though there was no missing the flicker of challenge in his eyes.

“Levi has told me stories about you. He said you make any dull affair quite exciting," he offered his arm to me, "Was he wrong?”

I hesitated, looking at Myra and Levi. They were fully engaged in a conversation with a wizened old man in a gray suit. He had several burn marks on his hands and I noticed he was missing an eyebrow. I recognized him as the lead councilman of the city of Gear's End.

"I really shouldn't leave Myra unattended," I said, stepping away from Dash.

"Surely it will be easier to keep an eye on her from a bird's-eye view," he countered, making me pause again. He had a point. I shook my head again, retreating another step.

"I shouldn't. The Matron would have my head if I was caught alone in a room full of gentlemen."

“Are you saying you can’t handle us?” he asked, a glimmer in his eyes. He didn't lower offered his arm.

Gods, I hate being challenged.

I looked at him for a moment, fully intent on telling a firm no. Then, I looked back over my shoulder at Myra and Levi. They looked happy. Happier than I had ever seen either of them apart. The Gear's End councilman was fully engrossed in their conversation, and they were surrounded by several others. Suddenly, my father was there. Or, maybe he he had been there all along and I simply didn't recognize him while wearing a smile. I saw him nod at Levi and then focus solely on Myra. I went still at the look in his eyes. It was something I had never there seen before.

Pride.

I took Dash’s arm, which felt like it was made of marble under his suit coat.

“I’m more concerned you all can’t handle me,” I replied to him as we walked up the staircase. He let out a laugh and stood a bit taller.

“I can only hope so."

The men’s parlor smelled of lacquered wood and cigar smoke in a way I liked. It was a masculine smell in a dark but comfortably furnished room. It was one of the rooms which could overlook the ballroom area. The walls were paneled with dark wood, and it had a large rug decorating the floor. A billiards table was off to the side and a bar stood sentinel near the door. Dash had been right. I had a perfect view of both the crowd and Myra from here.

Three men sat in plush chairs, positioned conveniently near a fireplace, as we entered. One grinned openly when he saw us.

“Ah Monsieure Eastmark, I see you ‘ave brought a piece of color into our sea of black?” asked the smiling one, his face adorned with glistening turquoise scales off his temples. His fingers had a small, yet graceful webbing between them, and his eyes were a deep sea green with blue at the center.

Like sea water after a storm.

I also didn't miss the Three Seas accent as he spoke. He was clearly a Umifolk, a special type of werebeast race from that region. It was said they were as comfortable on land as they were in the water, and fierce warriors to boot.

He and the two others went to stand upon seeing me with Dash, but I waved them to stay seated. Dash cleared his throat and nodded my way.

“Gentlemen, this is the good Lady Rowena McAlister, the--”

“Anyone worth their gossip knows who this lady is, Eastmark,” one of the them said, cutting Dash off. He had sandy hair and a lean build. He was human, but he held himself like the king of the hells sitting atop his throne as the world burned around him. His immaculate suit was cut loosely, as if he wanted to be ready to shed it at any moment for a lover's tryst.

And Holy Gods, even I could see he was handsome. He was a vision of male beauty, right down to his gray eyes flecked with a piercing green.

I tore my gaze away, looking toward the small bar off to the side with a bottle containing my favorite color of liquid.

“Good evening, Gentlemen. Don’t mind me. I’m just here for a drink,” I said, and they all chuckled.

“What, our company does not interest you?” the sandy-haired man asked. I pointed a single finger at the bar.

“Not as much as that,” I said and the man shook his head in mock disapproval.

“Oh, such a blow to my pride. However shall I recover?” he asked. His posture was relaxed, and his voice had a Burland accent like Dash’s. I showed him my sharpshooter grin.

“I have a felling that you will somehow,” I said dryly.

I poured my drink as the sweet smell of oak and spice hit me. All three of the men had cigars and I immediately sensed the compliment of the flavor.

As if answering my thought, Dash held out a cigar for me, and indicated the Umifolk who had spoken before.

“Miss McAlister, I'd like to introduce Monsieur Noel Trebouche of the Three Seas. His family owns and operates Horizon Sails Trading Company in your southern isles,” he said, and Noel responded with a pleasant smile and small lift of his glass in acknowledgement.

“And Mister Lucien Beecher. He owns Ironwork Railways along with my family in Burland,” he explained further, indicating the man with sandy hair. He responded in kind by raising his glass to me.

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“And finally, the silent one over here is Wilhelm Steiner, whose family owns most overseas coal production and distribution,” Dash finished, indicating the man in the last chair. I felt my brows lift at the man's size. While I suspected Dash to have some behemoth in him, this man simply had to. The chair could barely hold his significant bulk. Where Lucien was lean and graceful, this man was a mountain. His muscles were simply too large to be allowed. He had precious little neck, and a jawline that look like it could crack a boulder. He didn't respond to Dash's introduction, but instead stared at me like a bear looking at a mouse.

Recovering, I saluted the men with my drink.

“It would seem I’m in no average company, Gentlemen. After hearing all that, I have but one important question,” I said gravely, and Dash raised his brows at me.

“Vat question eez that?” asked Steiner, a frown etching his otherwise impassive face. I smiled at all of them.

“Is there food in here too?”

Steiner rose then, and approached me. His frown became more severe. The overburdened floorboards creaked with each of his steps. His hands were large enough to crack my skull like an egg, and his cigar was held between his teeth as he glared down at me. Just as my hands itched toward my pistols, he tossed his head back and laughed.

“Aha yes, I like dis von!” he chuckled and opened his coat. He pulled out a personal cigar sealed in a paper with wax.

“Try this von instead,” Steiner said abruptly, “Eez from my country, Fulgary. Eez better.”

I looked at his outstretched hand, and realized the cigar looked like a matchstick in his weathered palm. A palm full of callouses.

Laughing a bit, I took it gratefully and used a cutter on the bar to begin it. As I looked around I ran the cigar under my nose subtly. I smelled nothing but the flavor. Being in a more dangerous profession had taught me to always be on the lookout for poison if you didn’t know the source of what you were taking in.

There was nothing. No strong scents to block out a potential toxins, and no abnormal herbs in the bound cigar.

I looked around for matches and Noel immediately stood and held out his lighter. With a flourish, he ignited it. I began the cigar and puffed out the cloud. My lungs hated it at first, but I refused to cough. Steiner’s eyes didn't leave me until I nodded at him in approval. Now that the initial robust flavor had worn off, I tasted the smoke cutting the more bitter notes of the whiskey, leaving only a smooth finish.

Steiner clapped me on the shoulder, and it took all my strength to not be tossed to the other side of the room. After that, things seemed to relax considerably. The men continued their conversation, and I quietly drifted to the doorway. From there, I looked down on the ballroom, and saw Myra and Levi at the center, conversing amiably to the large group around them. From this higher vantage point, I could see the flow of the crowd. I listened to the conversation as the men in the parlor spoke, my eyes never leaving the guests below.

“…promises to be quite the scandal with the McAlister’s and Beaufoutonte’s partnering solely. They are sure to be a large producer of revenue for one another.”

“Yes. Especially with Lord Beaufoutonte buying up all zhe production companies.”

“It would seem that all the upper class in this country shall be armed to the teeth from now on,” said Lucien, an edge to his voice, “What is McAlister Pistol Company worth now? One million? Two? Ten?”

“Levi hasn’t told me the recent numbers,” Dash said evenly, “But the company promises nothing but growth in the next few years, pending continuation of their momentum of the simplistic designs of the pistol and depending on production costs. They will be cutting into our steel supply though.”

“I am unworried,” Lucien said, “This partnership cannot possibly work to the benefit of both companies long term. Sure, it will work shortly, but I give it a year maximum. Beaufoutonte has nothing to gain from this other than marrying his daughter to a new family so they don't have to pay for her now,” he finished, though out of the corner of my eye I saw him glance at me as if he had forgotten I was there.

“Meaning no offense to your friend, my lady,” he said, pretense dripping from each word.

“I do not know, my friend. Monopoly of a process allows for further growth of a market if managed correctly. And zhat promises to ‘appen with zhis marriage and merger. Competing companies both in zhe metal mines and weapon market will feel zhis,” Noel remarked, then looked at me evenly.

“And what of you Madmousielle? What do you zhink of zhis situation? Inquiring minds want to know,” he asked, his eyes open and genuine. I took a moment to answer, surprised that he would care about my opinion.

Lucien let out a derisive snort.

"Yes, by all means. What does the woman determined to start another war with the Elemancers think about the matter?" he said, picking a piece of dust off his immaculate suit. I stifled the urge to tell his pompous ass right where he could shove his own opinion, and then looked back at Noel to answer.

“McAlister Pistol Company is worth approximately thirteen million right now with the expansion of their productions based on what I've heard,” I replied, flecking my eyes at Lucien at the end. My father had always drilled the company’s statistics, and how to calculate them, into me since I was a teenager.

After all, he had wanted me to be the one to inherit the company. Levi had never held it against me that he was the inheritor by default, but my father had taken it very hard that I was still determined to be a healer.

Shaking the thought off, I continued my reply.

“However, our strength is not in selling to the rich, Mister Beecher. I must correct you in that respect. It is actually in selling to the middle class.”

Beecher seemed amused and gave me a sardonic smile which felt slightly patronizing. He didn’t answer, but waved his hand at me to continue. I pulled in a breath to keep myself in check.

“Our strength lies in our ability to mass produce good quality guns which don’t threaten to blow up in the users hand, and do it at a reasonable price. The ability to protect one's self should not solely belong to soldiers and the rich--”

“Don’t pretend the production is noble, My Lady. Guns cost money. Money that your family benefits from. Let us be frank-” cut in Lucien, swirling his glass, “Your father has built an empire of wealth with the common people’s obsession with violence based on his own impatience with his humbling begins as a second-rate tinkering shop.”

He looked at me pointedly.

“The obsession with violence extends to his daughter, if rumor is to be believed. Your recent," he paused, looking up theatrically as if trying to decide the right word, "interaction with the Elemancer envoy is evidence of this."

I made to reply, but I couldn't think of any retort that didn't sound childish. Lucien sighed and bowed his head mockingly at me.

"Truly, I must commend your father on his success,” he said, every word dripping with venom. Dash and the others shifted uncomfortably.

“Mate, there is no need for aggression,” Dash said softly.

“No,” I cut in, “Let him finish. It’s good to know where we stand.”

“Ah yes,” said Lucien, shooting me another patronizing smile, “I knew you had some intelligence. Pretense seldom does us any good, does it?”

He chuckled and took a long pull on his cigar. The smoke came out of his mouth like a dragon when he spoke again, his eyes seeming to glow.

“Your father has created an admirable system. He produces weapons that the people, rich or poor it seems, use in times of fear. His daughter, meaning you, creates the fear wherever she goes. Then there's the son who waits in the wings to inherit it all,” he reclined in his chair comfortably, “Brilliant.”

Dash shifted in his chair, and glanced my way. He opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated.

“Thinking to come to her rescue, are we Eastmark?” Lucien asked as he stretched his neck and rested his cheek on his hand. A muscle in Dash's jaw feathered for a moment before he chuckled.

Dash stood and went to the bar. He grabbed the bottle, and refilled my glass.

“Why no, I just noticed Lady Rowena’s glass was getting a bit dry. I’m sure she is quite capable of putting your arrogant ass in it’s place by herself,” he put the bottle back and glanced at Lucien, imitating his slightly higher tenor voice, “If rumor is to be believed.”

Dash turned his back to Lucien, catching my gaze. He grinned and waved his hand for me to continue. I sipped again, enjoying the warmth of the drink, then gave Lucian my best sharpshooter stare.

“Believe what you wish, Mister Beecher. I don’t need to explain myself to a man whose company is kept afloat solely by his friend's financial support, and only specializes in pissing contests,” I said, dragging on the cigar again. I tilted my head back and blew out a perfect smoke circle.

Dash clapped my shoulder. I looked at him and saw he was grinning even wider now. Noel was smiling as well and Steiner seemed thoughtful.

“Charming,” Lucien said, chuckling, “I must say, you Westerners do have a habit of simply doing things with no regard for the consequences to rest of the market,” he continued, tapping ash into a tray. I lifted a brow at him.

Dash cleared his throat.

“Forgive Lucien, Lady Rowena” said Dash, his calm and friendly tone neatly undermining any tension, “He was raised in one of the oldest dukedoms in Burland. They were quite offended by the economic success in the Settled West. You have hit the nail on the head, my lady.”

Lucien shrugged and breathed out another cloud of smoke.

“Old blood and habits, I’m afraid,” he said, a small smile curling his lips. Something flickered in his gaze then. I wasn’t quite sure what to call it, but my thoughts were interrupted as Dash clapped his hands together in a motion of finality.

“Billiards anyone? Can any of you beat our dear Lucien? Or will the devil win again?” Dash asked and Noel rose to his feet with Steiner. Lucien shook his head.

“I’ve told you my trick. I calculate the angle of the shot, along with the technique of striking the ball-” he began to explain but Noel cut across him.

“Your strain your brain far too much for a game which is meant to 'elp a man relax,” he said as he grabbed a cue and chalk.

I took a moment to check back downstairs as they set up the game. My eyes drifted to the dance floor, which was starting to be in full swing. It looked like everyone had finally arrived. The Matron and Lord Beaufoutonte would be starting toasts and their procession soon. Waiting staff, dressed in starched white shirts and ties with aprons, wandered in the crowd with trays loaded with another course of drinks and food.

Then something caught my attention.

Addie stood in the corner, holding a tea tray. As I looked further, I saw her posture was stiff and nervous. Her tray was shaking under the tea mugs.

I left the room while the men were distracted, placing my glass and cigar back on the bar. I made my way down the stairs and walked straight toward Addie.

She met my eyes and shook her head at me.

I stopped, confused. I kept my eyes on hers, and saw they were wide with fear. As I continued to look at her, a waiter passed. Addie looked from me, then to the waiter, and then back to me. Her eyes grew wider.

Following the silent cue, I looked more closely at the waiter. Upon closer inspection, I saw his hair was tousled unevenly. There was a thin layer of dust at his neck and on his shirt. I walked the room so as to appear casual, but saw Addie’s eyes never left me.

Slowly, she adjusted her arms under the tray she was holding and touched a finger to her forearm. Still a bit confused, I looked back at the waiter and focused on his arms. He turned to serve a guest and lowered the tray. His sleeves were pushed up, revealing surprisingly muscular forearms. I saw his exposed skin, and my heart stopped yet again.

A mountain cat brand was burned into his skin.

Now that I knew where to look, I glanced at the other waiters and saw that each one had an identical mark. Several of the maids had it too. Cold dread spread from my stomach and out to my fingertips, which were now itching for my pistols more than ever.

The Pumas were here.