More than a dozen princesses of every imaginable race twirled on the floor. Gawain lurched around, trampling a befuddled partner. Her opposite in every way, Eleda glided across the floor, deigning to dance with some human noble. The dwarf sat by the buffet table, chomping down on fine food with a satisfied smile, and no one disturbed her. Sabelyn twirled with the Mage-Emperor, her eyes alight with desire—for the power he commanded, at least, if not the Emperor himself. The fae princess sat by the wall, surrounded by a circle of fae underlings who offered her morsels of food and sips of drink, enamored by her mere presence.

Mouse caught a drink from a passing tray and took a sip, peering over the rim at the fae princess. She’d get along well with Sabelyn.

Princesses he hadn’t met yet loitered here and there around the ballroom, some dancing, some standing.. Just past the fae, a princess with purple skin, generous curves, and horns that arced high over her head whispered in the ear of a wiry princess with a full body coat of grayish fur that bristled around her cuffs and neckline, wolf ears, and a long wolf tail.

A demon and a beastfolk. Demons had only recently joined the alliance on this side of the Barrier, and lived in the south. In the long, bumpy carriage ride here, old Dayander had leaned over and mumbled in his ear, “The orcs left the alliance, but the demons took their place, shameless creatures that they are.”

The rest of the lesson had been lost to the rattling of the carriage, but he remembered the odd vehemence in Dayander’s voice. Looking at her now, he didn’t understand the old moon elf’s problem. Shameless? Standing here, watching her converse quietly with the beastfolk princess, he couldn’t see it. Compared to Gawain, she was practically a saint. His eyes wandered to the low cut of her collar and the high slit on her skirt, revealing a shapely purple leg. Maybe he can’t handle a little skin.

The demoness caught him looking and pursed her lips at him, twitching her skirt aside to give him a better look at her long legs. Mouse blushed and averted his eyes, nodding apologetically. He turned to the other princess instead, desperately wishing the blush away.

He knew plenty about beastfolk, in comparison to demons. They lived in the north, neighbors of the moon elves. Many races looked down upon them as lesser creatures, half-animal savages, but he knew them as brave and vicious warriors, men and women both.

Leaning a shoulder against the wall, he continued to scan the room, slowly sipping a mild wine. A slender princess even shorter than the dwarf sat on the top of one of the tables and chatted animatedly with a man with odd patchworked green-pale-gray skin, while a tall, pale woman with dark hair and pronounced canines watched, eyes half-slitted. A lady with traces of scales around her eyes and sloping horns that swept back from her forehead watched the Mage-Emperor silently, utterly still, almost like a predator stalking prey. A half-dozen other women of noble bearing wandered around, some whose races he couldn’t recognize, some whom he couldn’t tell apart from the human noble-ladies. Content to watch the dancers swirl, Mouse lounged in the shadow of a pillar, only daring the ballroom to score a fresh goblet of wine.

The sun dipped slowly below the horizon, lighting the stained glass in warm tones, then not at all. Without the glaring sunlight, the room’s beauty came out. Mouse lifted his head and found crystal chandeliers high above, candlelight refracting over the partygoers. The dimmer light made the room more intimate. More importantly, it deepened the pillar’s shadow. Pleased with his hiding spot, Mouse picked at some food, drank fine wine, and enjoyed the music.

A human suddenly lurched into his vision. Taken aback, Mouse looked the man up and down. Dressed in finery and bright colors, his breath reeked of alcohol, and his eyes blurred. His limbs were slender, but not particularly muscular, speaking of a training more to do with books than martial skill. He bowed dramatically, flinging flouncy cuffs around as he did. “My lady, could I have the honor of a dance?”

Mouse gave him a disgusted look. A worthless man. Hands soft, limbs weak, a softness to his torso. He had never hunted. Never fought on the battlefield. Uncalloused, thin fingers told of a life of only pleasure, not even the weight of thought or paperwork on his back. Dancing with the Mage-Emperor was one thing, but this man? This pathetic fop, who lived only for pleasure? His eye twitched. In his mind’s eye, he threw the man over his shoulder and retreated to his homeland, diplomacy be damned.

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He glanced over the man’s shoulder and found Sabelyn staring at him. Their eyes met, and she gave a light laugh and twirled away, eyes glistening malevolently. Mouse’s brows furrowed. You bitch.

If Sabelyn had something to do with it, then this was almost certainly a trap. But how? It could be a trap to accept his invitation, but, equally, it could be a trap to decline it. Uncertain, he couldn’t refuse the nobleman, and so he inclined his head slightly and allowed the man to lead him onto the floor.

Ignorant of his hesitance, the man smiled at him. He put a hand on Mouse’s back and took his hand with the other. Though the stance was proper, there was something improper in the way his whole hand pressed into the small of Mouse’s back.

Mouse’s skin crawled. I should have turned him away.

“When I saw you dancing with his Majesty, I couldn’t resist seeking you out for a dance of my own. You have rare nobility and elegance. The softness of your cheek, the silver light in your eye…I’ve never seen a woman so lovely.”

And you still haven’t. Mouse nodded, still silent.

“If only I could hear your lovely voice,” the man sighed.

“You haven’t introduced yourself,” Mouse replied coldly.

Rather than growing discouraged, the man’s face lit up at the response. “You can call me Reginald. Between friends, that’s how I’m called.”

“Are we friends?” Mouse asked.

“I would like to be. Or perhaps… even more?” Reginald suggested. The hand on Mouse’s back wandered downward.

Mouse reached back and pulled Reginald’s hand firmly on his back. “I would not dare.”

Reginald’s face fell. “Not even friends?”

“If I can avoid it.”

“What a waste. A beauty like you would do well with friends like me.” Reginald swept his eyes down Mouse’s figure, smile decidedly lecherous. He pressed Mouse closer to him, leaning toward the moon elf’s face.

Exerting some force, Mouse maneuvered his hips away from the man’s grip and slipped out of his hold. He pressed the back of his hand to his forehead melodramatically. “Dancing is a bit much for me. I think it best I rest.”

Reginald blinked, eyes wide, suddenly the image of concern. He put an arm around Mouse’s shoulders and guided him off the floor. “How could I have forgotten? You fainted during the introduction, did you not? Rest, rest.”

At the wall, Mouse glanced at him. He’d hoped Reginald would leave, but the man hovered. He gestured, and a servant materialized, carrying a pair of wine glasses on a tray. He held one out to Mouse. “I haven’t heard your name yet.”

Seeing Reginald settle in, Mouse internally sighed. He took the wine glass and swirled it, sniffing the bouquet. “By the graces of His Majesty the Mage-Emperor and Her Highness Sabelyn, I have been bestowed the name ‘Mouse.’”

Reginald chuckled. He gestured with his cup. “Is court this grand where you’re from?”

“No, not hardly,” Mouse admitted.

“No? What is it like?”

Mouse pressed his lips together, thoughtful. He sipped the wine and almost grimaced as fruity tones exploded on his tongue, almost rotten in their ripeness, overly saccharine. Is his tongue completely rotten from chasing pleasure all day? What a powerful flavor. “Quieter. More somber. As close as we are to the Barrier, there is never true peace. Massed darkfoes cannot pass the Barrier, but small groups constantly slip through where it thins. When a single corrupted could blight an entire town, we must maintain constant vigilance. Even nobles and royals learn to fight from their youth. Merrymaking like this is rare, and when it happens, there is a solemnity to it that never fades entirely to the background.”

“How fascinating,” Reginald said distractedly, watching the dancefloor.

Icy pain crawled up Mouse’s arms. Taking advantage of Reginald’s disinterest, Mouse rubbed his hands down his forearms. The damn backlash. It hadn’t hurt too much at first, but now that the moment had passed, the pain sunk into his arms with a ferocity.

At that moment, Reginald turned around and caught his pained expression. “Are you okay?”

Mouse scowled and downed the wine. “Forgive me, but I am exhausted. I think I’ll have to…”

The world wobbled around him. Mouse staggered and put a hand on the wall.

Reginald caught him. He tried to wrench free, but there was no strength in his limbs. “Let me take you back to your room. I’ll fetch a doctor…”

Mouse rolled his tongue around his mouth as Reginald led him away, tasting the remnant of the wine. A faint but familiar metal tang emerged from under the overpowering fruity flavor. His stomach sunk with embarrassment. I can’t believe I fell for a human’s trick! Such a basic poison… elder brother would never stop laughing if he knew.

The world spun around him, and even those thoughts dissolved into nothingness. Meaningless blobs of color rushed into and out of focus. Sound boiled up one moment, then dropped to a whisper the next. He stumbled into the wall and propped his shoulder against it. Weak hands clawed for a grip, for anything to hold onto, even as the world went soft and shapeless around him. I have to… have to…

Everything faded away. Mouse's eyes went blank.