“Mouse,” an imperious voice rang out. Sabelyn gestured him over.

Mouse frowned, ears twitching in irritation. For a long moment, he contemplated becoming temporarily deaf, but his traitorous ears had already betrayed him. Swallowing his pride, he trotted over to Sabelyn and her floozies, the picture of a good little henchman. Sabelyn’s floozies murmured among each other as they approached, eyeing him over. All human, all beautiful, but none as beautiful as Sabelyn, they complimented Sabelyn perfectly.

One of the girls, red hair in a tight updo, chuckled disdainfully, not bothering to hide her grin behind her fan. Another with a dusky complexion and voluptuous figure clicked her tongue and raised one eyebrow, looking him up and down like a prize cow. The final two were brunettes, faces a neat pair. The first had a thin figure and a long face, while the second was round in both face and figure.

“May I help you?” Mouse asked, sweeping his eyes up and down the flunkies in return. Dismissively, he glanced away. The best of you might have me beat, but you couldn’t compare to the ugliest moon elf woman, let alone my sister.

The voluptuous woman grimaced. Subtler, the redhead’s brows furrowed, and she raised her fan over her mouth.

Sabelyn gestured him closer. “You promised to help me attract the Emperor’s attention?”

He nodded.

“Ask him to dance.”

Mouse blinked. How does that help Sabelyn? Asking him to dance helps me. I don’t want to catch the Emperor’s eye, why would I do that?

She drew herself up imperiously. “So?”

Well, whatever. He started to bow. Halfway through, he remembered himself and swapped to a curtsey. Rising, he wasted no time and strode directly for the dais.

A hand snapped out of the crowd and caught his arm. Eleda shook her head gently. “Don’t. It’s impolite to approach a man sitting on the sidelines. She only wants you to drag him off the dais so she can ask him to dance without acting rude.”

“You know human habits better than a human?” he snapped, yanking his arm free. Internally, a light snapped on. So that’s why girls never asked me to dance. What utter nonsense.

Eleda flinched. “I didn’t mean to insult—”

“Let me handle my own affairs.” He glared fiercely and stomped off, and even managed a glimmer of tear in his eye.

The sun elf watched him go, her brows furrowed with concern.

I’m such a fine actor. I ought to open a troupe when I get home. Pleased with himself, he strutted toward the dais, unable to hide the smug grin on his face. Asking for a dance is rude? Then let me be the first in line.

The king barely spared him a look, too busy drinking in the beauties around them. To the contrary, the Mage-Emperor sat up and set down his wine at Mouse’s approach.

Despite the press of bodies in the ballroom, a gap remained between the dancers and the dais. Back straight, eyes straight ahead, Mouse strode into the gap. A hush fell over the crowd. Even the musicians hesitated, song quieting into silence. Dozens of eyes bored into Mouse’s back. Even the king dragged his eyes over to the interloper, a faint look of confusion on his face.

This close, the Mage-Emperor’s youth became all the more apparent. Not a single line marred his face. The chandelier overhead and the colored sunlight warming his face from behind only served to accentuate the pudge on his face and the faint trace of peach fuzz on his chin.

A child, still. A baby. And so much on his shoulders. A faint thread of sympathy warmed the depths of his heart.

He banished it. So much power and money, maybe. Nothing worth wasting sympathy on.

In the utter silence, Mouse curtseyed. “Your Majesty, may I ask for this dance?”

The Mage-Emperor narrowed his eyes. He gestured idly with one hand. Light accumulated in his hand, painful to look at. Power thrummed in the air, almost palpable.

Mouse squinted, pupils narrowed to cat-slits. His heart raced, thudding painfully against his ribs. A simple gesture gathers that much power? Even if I tried for hours, I couldn’t summon half as much.

Then: Fuck, all I did was ask you for a dance! Is it worth killing over? Is it really?

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

A flick of the fingers. A ball of light flew at Mouse, crackling in the air.

Instinctively, he raised both hands in a shield. Silvery moonlight coalesced around him. Against magic that powerful, it might as well have been a cobweb. The instant the ball brushed it, his shield shattered. Backlash burst up his arms in twining, aching chill, as new silvery frost-marks branded into his forearms. Mouse barely felt the pain. He twisted his arms and cast a second shield, but too late. The ball was already inside his shield.

Light smashed into his forehead. He tensed, waiting for the pain to hit. After a few seconds of nothing, he slowly opened his eyes.

Shadow fell over the world and cut the light to half. Bright noon sunlight shone as weakly as twilight’s dying sun. The whole world dimmed as if he wore smoked glass lenses. Is this what it’s like to be a ghost? Mouse wondered. He put a hand to the heart still hammering in his chest. Or… am I not dead?

“Lower your shield?” a gentle voice requested.

He turned to find the Mage-Emperor beside him. Mouse nearly jumped out of his skin. When did he get there?

The shield fell, more from his negligence than any dismissal on Mouse’s part. A hand took his, and the Mage-Emperor guided him to the dance floor. Dazed, Mouse followed. Somewhere in the near distance, the musicians struck up another song. All around them, couples jolted back to life. Occasionally, the women shot him jealous glances. Too dazed to notice, Mouse let himself be swept across the floor. The Emperor dragged him away at speed, as if he feared the dais.

“I apologize. I should have warned you. I only wanted to help,” the Mage-Emperor said. He finally drew to a halt and put his arms around Mouse, swaying into a dance step.

“Help?” Mouse stammered. He staggered after the Emperor. Instincts bored into him from years of dancing demanded he put his hand on the small of the Emperor’s back and take the lead.

No! He furrowed his brows and focused, forcing himself to follow the Emperor. Leading the Emperor in a dance in front of the whole court? He might as well kneel and beg for someone to remove his head. Their feet collided. Tense, Mouse mumbled an apology.

Mindless of the mistake, the Emperor swept him on. “Is the light less painful now? I noticed you passed out earlier, and I thought the sun might be a bit bright for you down here. The scholars tell me the sun doesn’t rise for half the year in your kingdom. Is that true?”

Mouse nodded, agreeing to everything at once, too dazed to respond more clearly. That was an illusory spell? That? My shield couldn’t hold against it, and it had no offensive power? He gulped. He could kill me with a thought. Hell, he could murder this entire ballroom with a gesture. No wonder the humans crowned the Mage-Emperor above their own king. Who wanted to take on a powerhouse like that? Easier to put him on a pedestal, where everyone could keep an eye on him.

As the song sped up, the Emperor’s footwork wandered. Rather than worry about following, Mouse turned his attention to dodging his partner’s wild steps. Combat-trained reflexes fell short of the mark more than once, and the Emperor’s chaotic feet clashed with his own. The slippers he wore did nothing to protect his toes, and Mouse winced more than once as his poor feet were crushed under the Emperor’s gold shoes. The Emperor barely noticed.

“I’m glad you invited me. It was boring, sitting by the king the whole time while everyone else danced.”

Then why didn’t you get up? Mouse complained silently. Externally, he put on a smile. “I’m glad your Majesty found it pleasant.”

The Mage-Emperor visibly flinched. “There’s no need for that. Call me Felix.”

“You don’t like your title?” Mouse guessed.

Felix shook his head. “I was born a commoner. I’m still not used to all the hubbub.”

Taken by surprise, Mouse blinked, then nodded silently. I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s been two hundred years since the last one. With human lifespans, there’s almost no chance he’s a direct descendant, and it wouldn’t be surprising if he wasn’t related at all.

Magical affinity often skipped generations, or ignored bloodlines entirely. An ancestral great mage guaranteed nothing about one’s own ability. Mouse lived the reality: the real Moussaesa was a powerful mage, blessed by the Moon Goddess, but Mouse himself had almost no magic, and relied on his skill with the sword and bow and knowledge of poisons instead. Naturally, something as rare as a Mage-Emperor would be born outside the nobility more often than not, by proportions alone, if nothing else.

Felix stomped on his foot again. Mouse flinched. “Your Majesty, have you danced before?”

A guilty expression crossed the Mage-Emperor’s face.

Mouse sighed. “Your elegance is beyond measure, Your Majesty, but perhaps you could hone your grace—”

“I need dancing lessons,” Felix guessed, interrupting him.

“I would never…” Mouse muttered, half-heartedly. He dodged yet another stomp with an awkward sideways sway.

A low, malicious giggle sounded from nearby. He didn’t have to look to know it was Sabelyn. They spun again, and he passed by her so close their shoulders brushed.

“I thought elves were elegant,” she whispered, her eyes alight with dark amusement.

Eyes narrowing subtly, Mouse smiled to himself. She wanted to dance, did she? I hope you enjoy the Emperor’s dancing skills half as much as I did.

“Ah! You smiled,” Felix said, grinning himself.

“I always smile, Your Majesty.”

“But not like this. Not earnestly.”

Who could smile earnestly in this pit of vipers? Mouse nodded, figuring himself the larger man for avoiding a meaningless argument.

Felix’s eyes drooped, and his grin vanished. “And now you’re faking it again.”

“How has Your Majesty found tonight? This dance, the company…” Mouse asked, abruptly changing the subject.

“It’s… overwhelming. I’m barely even familiar with the court, and already…” Felix gulped.

Mouse nodded slightly. Court here was much more grandiose than court back home. Though he was less uncomfortable than Felix seemed to be, he understood the Emperor’s hesitation. “Don’t worry. You’ll figure it out before long.”

The song ended. Mouse attempted to part, but Felix held on to his hand. “We haven’t gotten to know each other, and you’re leaving already?”

Someone behind Mouse coughed.

“Your Majesty, so many worthy ladies desire your attention. I could not be so rude.” He curtseyed and retreated, nearly colliding with Sabelyn as she rushed forward. In a moment, he retreated to the wall, and the dance floor came alive once more.