Forty days after the imperial ambassador’s murder.

Estate of House Trianos, Tower of Records in the oversurface of Radaar, 3423 AA.

Seyleen watched the last House head leave Trianos’ side in a hurry, elbowing the other guests as he waded through the crowd. That’ll keep him busy for a while. She continued towards her quarry.

Trianos stood rooted in place, blinking at his departing acquaintance – the way Seyleen had seen him do when he was locked in complete perplexity. Realisation dawned on his face as soon as he saw her approaching him. A wide smile graced his face.

“Sey, my dear, it’s good to see you after so long,” he said. “Was the departure of my guests part of your machinations?”

“It is good to see you as well, Uncle. And yes, yes, it was.”

He laughed. “Kentor would be proud of you.”

She managed a half smile, but her vacant gaze turned towards the ground. Staring at the shadowed crevice between two stone tiles, she thought back on her father. She had acted the perfect highborn at this party, but that was not who she was – not the goal she pursued. Would he truly be proud?

Trianos placed his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry about your loss. Kentor didn’t deserve to die like that.”

She nodded.

“You are not alone. Never forget that.” He glanced behind her. “At the very least, you’ll always have him on your side.”

She swivelled her head, looking over her shoulder.

Wicker stood some distance away, further away than he had during her previous conversations with the highborn – a show of trust in Trianos. Her inability to use the Gift demanded her bodyguard be close by to intervene should anything happen. Not likely, given that even the highborn feared the High Law, though she appreciated his dedication.

She smiled. Yes, Wicker would always stand on her side.

Turning to Trianos, she said, “Uncle, about my father… I need to know what happened.”

“Sey…” He removed his hand. “Ascendants’ grace, don’t dig into this. Let the professionals handle it.”

“The professionals had had five, almost six weeks and they’ve done nothing. I have to know. Please. What happened after he returned from Ascion?”

Trianos let out an exasperated sigh, rueful and frustrated. “I don’t know. Kentor cloistered himself in his home at the time. He never returned my calls and whenever I visited, he wasn’t there.” He stared into her eyes for several seconds, searching for something – he would only find unwavering determination. He nodded to himself, then grudgingly said, “If you really won’t give up, you should talk to Olmeen. I believe those two met up once or twice.”

“Is he here?”

“He’s late,” Trianos said through gritted teeth. “Like he always is.”

“Then it will have to wait. What happened before father’s trip?”

His eyes went upwards and veered to the left, peering into some memory. “Nothing out of the ordinary. A slight business dispute.” The fingers of his right hand curled towards the palm, wanting to form a fist, then they jolted to a stop, and relaxed once more. “You know how heated those can get at times, and then you forget about them a day later.”

Seyleen’s brow rose a millimetre. Anger? The thought and its implications scattered goosebumps over her arms. She looked up at Trianos’ face where a smile and the wrinkles around his eyes veiled the truth. Was that hint of anger simply all that got through?

Why lie? Was he trying to protect her somehow? The anger didn’t attest to that.

Cold sweat dampened her back. Was he involved somehow? She’d not been on Radaar for too long. How much had she missed? Considering the nature of the highborn, it shouldn’t be a surprise that alliances break, that friendships break – if friendships ever existed beyond the small talk, the occasional meetup, the kind words, and the innocence of childhood. What made Trianos and her father any different? Her heart said, Everything. Her mind’s answer sliced through her like a hot knife, Nothing. By the Ascendants, is Uncle really involved? Does Dal’wan know?

“Sey?” Trianos asked.

She flinched. Half a second of butterflies rampaging in her stomach and she could think again. Void take me. She took a deep breath, held it, then exhaled slowly, making a show of breaking free of the turmoil in her mind. “Apologies, Uncle. The fatigue from everything that’s happened finally caught up to me and—”

“Cass!” a little girl’s voice cut through the clamour of the party.

Seyleen snapped her head around, turning to look at the girl running towards Wicker. There was no chance she would ever mistake that voice. It belonged to Teal: Wicker’s sister, and the youngest of the Lendrin House.

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Wicker crouched down to talk to her. She hugged him, making him freeze, and whispered something in his ear. Arms held awkwardly in the air, Wicker hesitated at first, but then returned her hug.

Seyleen had heard most of the story from her father, but simply seeing their interactions was enough to fill in the blanks. Over the years she had had plenty of chances to do that. Unlike Wicker’s other siblings, Teal displayed genuine affection towards him. Her face always brightened when she was with her brother. But if she’s here, then…

Teal pulled away, tilted her head downwards, stared up at him, and said something – the way a child shyly pleaded for something they knew they couldn’t have. Wicker shook his head. His sister’s expression turned rueful.

Two people approached the pair of siblings – Kiel and Mara Lendrin. They were the first and second-born, with Kiel being the official heir. They shot out two sentences each.

Judging by the darkening expressions on Wicker and Teal’s faces, whatever they had said was nothing good. I can’t let this go on. Seyleen took a step towards them.

Trianos grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks. “Don’t do this, Seyleen. You should know what your intervention will do.”

Of course she did. A highborn going to a mere guard’s aid? Everything she’d achieved tonight would evaporate. Anyone that might have considered an alliance with her would back away. And why in the void would I care?

She wrenched her arm free, turned away from Trianos, and headed towards Wicker. Everything was still peaceful; she could salvage the situation. Calling a favour from one of the highborn she had the most dirt on could work as well. Perhaps she could even—

Wicker slapped Kiel’s arm away, pulling his sister away from the other man.

A shudder bulleted through Seyleen, an overture to the loud thumping of her heart. She froze mid-step, her mind going blank.

***

Conscious thought returned. She hastened her steps.

A ripple of silence passed through the nearby knots of highborn, their gazes turning towards the dispute. A drone of whispers rose next, but it was quiet enough for Seyleen to catch Kiel’s words.

“Insolent wretch! How dare you touch the future head!”

Wicker returned his brother’s fury with a steely gaze. “For a highborn, you sure lack every virtue but have vices aplenty. At least find a scrap of dignity to hold onto.”

Before Kiel could erupt, Mara placed her hand on his arm, subduing his anger. “I see you’ve lost none of that spite over the years, Cass,” she said. “However, you ought to mind your words more. You are no longer one of us.”

“That doesn’t make me blind to the things you do.”

Mara placed a finger on her cheek. “No, but it should make you mute.”

Stepping in-between Wicker and his elder siblings, Seyleen said, “Then I’ll speak in his stead. Two highborn ganging up on a guard? How pathetic can you be?”

“Lady Mannock.” Mara smiled. “It was a token of our respect to you that two of us condescended to speak to a mere guard. The Great House Mannock deserves as much, wouldn’t you agree?”

The void-born woman. If Mara believed herself capable of victory, the woman had another thing coming. “Indeed. Although, I’m afraid Sir Lendrin’s behaviour does little to support your claim. You ought to keep a tighter leash on him.”

A semblance of anger crossed Mara’s lips. Glancing at the guests that had formed an intrigued circle around them, she schooled her expression, then brought her signature fake smile back on display. “Perhaps, but I do hope you have not forgotten the true scope of our little game.”

Seyleen bit back a curse. The damned woman was right. The highborn watching this battle of words were the most important. Their judging gazes gave off palpable oppression, a tightening noose around Seyleen’s neck. She had to sway their opinion somehow, but she needed something to tip the scales in her favour first. But what?

“Two Great Houses clashing, and no one invited me? I feel hurt.” Dal’wan stepped out of the circle of onlookers. “No matter how prestigious House Mannock is, two on one is a little unfair, is it not?”

Another ripple of silence passed through the crowd.

Seyleen clenched her hand into a victorious fist. Thank you.

Lips pursed, Mara barely kept herself from quivering in anger. “I’ve heard much of the great Seyleen Mannock, but it seems she always requires someone else to fight her battles for her. Well, what else could one expect from a mere shadow of who her father was?”

A pause. “I would answer,” Seyleen said, “but, unfortunately, no matter the answer I provide, you will remain as you are. A figurehead of outdated notions. So firmly clinging to the past that you are incapable of accepting a novel concept. To one so limited, what could my words offer but mere sound?”

Chatter broke out among the crowd of observers, followed by approving nods at Seyleen and sneers at Mara, emphasised by the occasional chuckle. The inciting remark had propelled most of the highborn to switch to Seyleen’s side; some of the others it had caused to vacillate between the two sides.

It was disgusting – all of it. And so am I. For her part, it was a callous reduction of individuals, some of whom she had spoken with, to yes-no lights, numbers that summed up how her future would look. If she lost, she’d need to go into hiding in the undersurface, and her House would fall into ruin first and obscurity second. If she won, she’d have time until House Lendrin sought revenge.

For the moment, she was winning.

Kiel’s fist trembled, his anger spilling for all to see. Unlike before, Mara didn’t calm him down, standing where she was, seething. She stared murder at Seyleen.

Kiel mumbled something. He raised his stare from the ground and fixed Seyleen’s gaze. “A duel. I challenge you to a duel.”

The initial shock stole the meaning of Kiel’s words. Their echo reverberated in Seyleen’s head, labouring to achieve coherency. Understanding came with a gust of chilly night wind. A duel… Any highborn could challenge another to a duel. It was a bloody tradition of settling conflicts and it was usually a deathmatch. But I can’t fight, so that means…

“You can’t!” Dal’wan said. “A non-adept cannot compete in a duel.”

“Then her guard will replace her!” Kiel said. “My brother was once a Lendrin. The rules allow it.”

“That’s a stretch and you very well know it!” Dal’wan said.

The chatter of the crowd rose to a roar, but a single voice rent it, silencing everyone – Tiegwin’s.

She said, “So? Tradition is as much as we allow it to be. Novel concepts” – she glanced towards Seyleen, smirking – “ought to be introduced every now and again.”

Seyleen opened her mouth but snapped it shut a second later. A cold wave of trepidation washed over her. Wasn’t Tiegwin on her side? Insufferable as she is at times, the woman’s nothing but fair. She already helped me with Adrac tonight. There’s no reason for… A tingle of dread rounded her spine, a single word blaring in her mind: debt. The void-forsaken debt!

“I look forward to it, dear,” Tiegwin said. “With how much you trust the man, I can only imagine his skills will be an awe-inspiring sight. A battle of the decade. The perfect overture to the upcoming war.”

Colour drained from Seyleen’s face. Wicker could never win against a fully trained highborn. If he fights, he’ll… Dread melted her knees, but she remained standing. Darkness choked her sight.