EPILOGUE

Emily…

Nicholas still couldn’t believe she had allowed Sicca to leave his family’s chambers. She had a sword, and that surprised him. He knew she had been ready to use it.

He had spent the last few hours near to quaking as he thought piles of guards would break down the door and arrest him at any time.

But they hadn’t come.

And Emily had said nothing more about his involvement with Sicca. In fact, it seemed like she had been pretending she had never seen anything.

With a heavy sigh of relief, Nicholas stared out his windows at the bright plumes of colorful fireworks. It was surprising.

Our enemies sleep only a few chambers away, and yet we have fireworks.

With a heavy heart, he watched the fireworks, wishing Sicca could be there with him. But he also had hope—hope for what was to come.

Why they were all here now, Gabriela didn’t know. But Emperor Justin, along with the Lucian empress, seemed to think this new parley would be different.

I don’t see how.

She dragged the fine-grain sharpening stone against the edge of her rapier, honing it—sharpening it for what could come to pass.

It would not surprise Gabriela if screaming erupted in the halls in the middle of the night—if Lucian soldiers and nobility came through, cutting and blasting their war through the Florencian corridors with blade and magic.

She was ready.

After finishing with her blade, she oiled it, glancing at the mirror sheen of polished steel in the light of the glow rock lamps.

Then she sheathed her weapon.

Tomorrow is the big day.

I wonder if mother and father are sleeping soundly?

Her eyes wandered to their bedchamber doors. Her own chambers were sumptuous enough, with a huge bed, a large washroom and plenty of space for her to practice her sword craft in the mornings.

Maximilian Silvanus…

What was he like?

No.

What would he ­be like when she finally met him for the first time? Smiling mischievously, she couldn’t wait.

In a darkened room, Maximilian Silvanus slept soundly. Though he had felt apprehensive about this parley, he was not afraid.

He and Duke Dante Lorintos of Florencia would do everything in their power to keep things from, breaking out. Perhaps it was idealistic of him, but Max had thought to himself, if we would do such a thing of our own accord, then surely others want peace as well.

If the parley fell through—which they all had in the past, then the Lucians and Florencias could go on killing one another as they ever had.

After leaving the House of Gates.

But something was different about this parley. Max had hoped—had prayed that that difference was not born on the whims of two fools leading entire empires when the true rulers had died in a horrible melee of blades and magic, only to leave the two empires in inept hands.

Treason, he had thought.

Laughing, he chased Pavala Larinni through the gardens as suddenly something exploded. Pavala screamed, turned to Drenna with a look of fright as a whine shot through the air.

The explosion of bright colors caused them both to jump, but as the fireworks lit the gardens with every single hue of color, they both began to laugh.

“How wonderful!” Pavala said.

“Is it not?” Drenna asked.

“Oh! And look!”

“Indeed, I have never seen such beautiful displays in my life.”

They weren’t just fireworks. They were infused with special magic that caused them to move in the sky. One, a giant bird of orange and red, flapped its wings, it’s many tail feathers swirling about.

It then cried out, filling the sky with its calls before exploding into a plume of bright colors and cascading flourishes.

“Oh, Drenna,” Pavala said. She clasped her hands. “Dance with me!”

“Dance?”

“Yes!” she said excitedly. Then she grabbed his hands and took him along for a marry go around the founts—their cascading waters taking on the many colors of the fireworks exploding through the sky.

“Is this not amazing?!” she asked.

“It is!” he said. “I can only hope that my good friend Maximilian Silvanus is enjoying himself half as much right now!”

“Majesty,” Brasioni said. “Should you not sleep?”

Bransioni, ever the loyal emperor’s man, came and refilled his glass of red wine. Normally Albion did not drink this late into the evening, but he was having trouble sleeping.

And he knew why.

“I cannot,” Albion said. “This may very well be the end of Florencia. Or the start of a glorious new era. I cannot say which.”

“May the gods by ever in your favor, my lord emperor.”

“Hmm,” Albion noised as he swirled his glass of wine. He was sitting in a luxurious high-backed chair upholstered with silk as he drank his wine and watched the fire crackle.

It was slightly too warm for a fire, and so he had his windows opened. Something Bransioni complained about, but Albion had ignored.

“Were the gods in my favor when my father and mother were killed, leaving the throne to me?”

“I do not rightly know,” Bransioni said. “But the gods do work in mysterious ways of which we cannot fathom. That I believe.”

“Perhaps it is so,” Albion said.

If everything goes the way he and Empress Zanna wanted, they would be married soon. Albion had never imagined in all his years that he may marry a Lucian. Hells, he had never imagined becoming the emperor of Florencia!

It had seemed like a dream then.

And it seems like a dream now…

Everything had been planned meticulously. Those plans were being laid out and enacted even now.

Zanna stood in her study, a large cascade of windows before her, the walls filled with books. The shelves were so high, a ladder was needed to get to the books even in the middle rows.

Everything was cast in bright plumes of light as the fireworks exploded outside.

There is much more to do, she thought. If I fail, bloodshed will be inevitable, and Empress Zanna Caelestinius of Lucia will forever be remembered as the Empress of Fools.

Gods, she hated this. The waiting. The watching. Counting the moments for some hothead lord to do something stupid.

And the Florencians have not even begun to intermingle with her own people yet.

Am I making a mistake? A terrible, terrible mistake?

Swallowing hard, she glanced about her study, but no one was there with her—not a soul. In the gardens, she could see a young man and woman dancing merrily about the fountains.

At least there were some who were happy.

Perhaps that boded well for what was to come. It was a shame one of those two young nobles wasn’t a Florencian, secretly stealing a moment of forbidden love with a Lucian.

She almost laughed out loud as a thought came to her. Perhaps she and Emperor Albion Justin should take up that behavior.

To lead by example.

Of course, this is a purely foolish thought inside the head of a fool who should not even be Empress of Lucia.

Sighing heavily, Zanna began pacing the study as she worried incessantly about what would happen the very next day.

And after that, too.

I wonder if Albion feels the same way as I do on this matter?

Having hidden most of his displeasure before, Zaan Blackwater was now hissing with fury at his small entourage of servants and sycophants.

He tossed a bottle of wine across the chamber.

“Do not waste the good wine,” Nero said lightly.

“This is all a waste of time!”

One of the servants actually had the gall to approach Zaan. “My lord, Blackwater, please.”

“Silence, you fool!”

The servant lowered his gaze. What was he, the new master of servants his man had hired? His demure posture at Zaan’s outburst made him even more angry.

I’ll have him sent to the front lines when we get back.

And then his rage took him again.

“I should bring my armies back and conquer all of these lands—show them how to rule an empire. I can’t believe this is happening.”

The fireworks exploding outside both distracted and annoyed him.

“This whole situation reeks of treachery—an assassination plot just waiting to happen. Do you not think so, Nero?”

Nero Angelo, his narrow eyes even narrower now that the night had got on, puffed on his pipe. “I agree with you completely. My armies are not so strong as your own, but I am mightily impressed with your exploits. Forget these fools. Once this is over, let us conquer new lands. We can rule together—our own empires, Zaan!”

“Yes,” he said, smiling. Then he couldn’t help himself. Zaan started cackling like a mad villain. “We will play along, Nero. Until we can leave. But you must prepare your house immediately. No dawdling, my friend.”

“Of course not. Do I look like one to dawdle?”

Zaan looked at him.

Actually, yes.

Of course, he did not say that. Nero Angelo was one of the new Dukes who fell on his side of thinking. The rest of them were either too old, too stupid or too dead to put their attentions else ware other than the centuries –long feud between Florencia and Lucia.

And then when I don’t need you anymore, Duke Nero Angelo thought, I’ll cut you off. Or perhaps I’ll even take what’s yours and make it mine.

He laughed.

“What is funny? Zaan asked.

Nero puffed on his pipe. “We are surrounded by fools.”

“Indeed,” Zaan said. “Indeed we are.”

Nero chuckled.

“Edward!”

“Yes, love?”

“Come in here. The fireworks are spectacular.”

Tori’s husband came into the room. “My goodness,” he said. “You weren’t exaggerating.”

“Do I ever?”

He gave her a sidelong glance.

“Where is Sicca?” she asked.

Glancing about, he said, “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her for some time.”

“Perhaps she’s still in one of the ballrooms. I do believe she has friends here?”

“Oh?”

“Indeed,” Tori said. “That Umini girl?”

He shrugged.

“You really should pay more attention to your daughter and take an active interest in her life.”

“You are right,” he said.

But of course, she knew that nothing would change. Edward Glass was a proactively productive man, which meant that he was often not at home. The Glass holdings had nearly quadrupled since Tori had married Lord Glass.

I can respect that.

And so she never complained too much.

The door closed and Tori turned to find Sicca coming into the room. She smoothed her skirts and tried to look as nonchalant as possible, but nothing escaped Tori Glass.

Smiling, she said, “Sicca, you little sneak. Where have you been?”

“Oh,” she said, shrugging. “Nowhere. Just out enjoying the evening.”

“I’m sure,” Tori said. “Come here. You’re missing these lovely fireworks.”

She joined them. “Wow.”

“Perhaps we should go out into the gardens?” Edward suggested as he put an arm around Sicca’s shoulders.

Tori nodded. “Why, what a wonderful idea, Lord Glass. Sicca, what do you think?”

Pausing for a moment, she finally nodded.

“Then let’s go!” Edward said with a smile.

“I can’t believe the Lucians are in the same building,” Tori said. “I feel this is more of a party than a parley.”

“Wait until tomorrow,” Edward said. “Kylar,” he called.

The servant came into the chamber. “Yes, my lord?”

“We’re going out. Prepare our jackets.”

Roseangela stalked into the large chamber where she had her knights assembled. All in all, she had thirty-two knights.

“All right, everyone. Listen up!”

Her knights stopped their chatter, eating and drinking. She glanced about, looking them in the eyes. Most of them were enjoying themselves immensely at this parley gathering.

If it can even be called a parley…

All was silent, save for the crackling fire. Most of the knights of House Martin wore ceremonial armor covered with their finest jackets.

“I see that you are all enjoying yourselves. And normally, I would encourage such behavior. Do not mistake me. I am not telling you that you cannot take part in the festivities of this parley event. But I also want you to stay on your guard.”

She lifted her arm and pointed a finger in the general direction of the Florencian side of the House of Gates. “The other side of this mansion is filled with Florencian nobility, knights and mages. We all know there are many long-standing grudges between us. Tempers are running hot, and something is bound to go wrong at some point. I thank the gods that there were no incidents today. But tomorrow things will be different. Our lady Empress Caelestinius and Emperor Justin expect us all to intermingle tomorrow.”

There were some chuckles in the crowd.

“Exactly!” she said, pointing a finger at them. “You think that’s ludicrous? I will tell you right now that there are crafty lords and ladies in our noble ranks—and the same exists with the Florencians—individuals who will attempt to salt old wounds to stir up trouble. I say all this to say… be on your guard tomorrow. We must prevent trouble, and gods forbid any of it coming from within my ranks! Do you all understand me?”

“Yes!” they said in unison.

“Good!” Roseangela said. “Now I want you all to go to sleep.”

Some of the men made crestfallen noises.

“None of that. There will be time aplenty to enjoy yourself, but tomorrow, I want you all on your best behavior, and at your best physically.”

She turned around and opened the door to leave. Before exiting, she looked back at her knights. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, my lady!” one knight called, then a general outpouring came at her.

Roseangela smiled, then closed the door.

Sicca had scampered off somewhere only a little while ago. She was certain her niece was watching the fireworks as they exploded out over the skies.

From where she was, in a dark recess of shadows due to the lateness of the hour, Hecate could still see the flashes of colorful lights on the ballroom floor near the windows on the other side of the massive chamber.

The dancing had since ceased and most of the nobles had gone off toward their own chambers, though some still lingered as they coalesced in small groups talking, laughing, and of course, drinking.

Hecate wanted to saunter out into the ballroom. But she did not. Something inside her always made her stop. She was a reclusive woman by nature and often though she thought she wanted companionship and company, when she got it, she quickly tired.

She loved her niece, Sicca, but the young girl could be very yappy at times.

Putting her mind from past annoyances, she watched the nobles from afar as most of them went to the windows to watch the massive display of fireworks.

“I didn’t see you on the ballroom floor,” a man from behind said.

Without getting up from where she was leaning against the wall, Hecate turned her head so the man was in view. He was young, handsome—and clearly rich.

“I don’t care to dance,” she said simply.

“Is it that you’re too good for the rest of us?” he asked.

She tried to make out his features more clearly. She could see that he was good looking, blonde, but mostly he was encased in shadow, much the way she was. Except her attire was all in various blacks and dark greys, while he wore a white coat and trousers with blue highlights.

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“Or perhaps,” he added musingly, “you’re not… good enough?”

He grinned.

“If you are flirting with me, you have failed.”

“Flirting?” he asked, and sauntered over, his gate somewhat unstable.

He’s drunk.

“Flirting?” He smiled impishly. “Perhaps I was insulting you—even if I have no idea who you are.”

“The niece of the Grand Duchess.”

He looked at her, then his eyes widened. “Truly?”

“If I were, do you think I would be skulking in these shadows, you fool?”

“Be careful.”

“Or what? You will insult me again? Be gone, drunkard.”

“You can’t talk to me like that!” he snapped.

“Why not?”

“I am Lord Luca Aurelius and I will not be insulted by the likes of someone with an unrecognizable face in this palace.”

“I don’t recognize you.”

“What?” he growled.

“Luca,” a voice said sweetly. It was musical and playful all at once.

He turned toward the woman who had approached them from the ballroom floor. She was beautiful, wearing the most alluring dress Hecate had ever seen, full of dark green and blue silks and covered in fur. In her hand, she held a white mask with red slashes, it’s likeness that of a fox.

Hecate stood up straight.

“My apologies,” the woman said, then she giggled. “Luca, deer. Do not get angry.”

“This woman was insulting me!”

“Oh,” she said, playfully swatting the air. “Surely you’ve had a bit much to drink and didn’t realize she meant nothing by what she said?” She turned to Hecate. “Isn’t that right, dear girl?”

“If you wish,” Hecate said.

“See?” the woman asked. Turning back to Hecate, she said, “I’m Lady Kaisorra Ano. It’s nice to meet you, dear. Perhaps we will meet again during this”—she gestured emphatically—“’parley.’” She laughed.

“Indeed,” Hecate said.

Luca glanced at her, gave Hecate a dirty look.

“Come along,” Lady Ano said, and put out an arm. Luca took it and escorted the noble lady away from there.

Hecate sighed heavily. Her heart was beating very hard. Why was she so frightened? Why did she invite things like this to happen to her, and then not be able to deal with them internally?

Outwardly she was calm, but inside…

She left her shadow and stalked through the corridors toward her chambers as bright lights flashed outside while loud explosions and pops rolled across the sky.

As he escorted Lady Ano through the halls, he turned slightly back toward the direction of the ballroom and let his teeth show.

Who was that bitch?

If Luca ever saw her again, perhaps he would try to befriend her. So then later he could humiliate her in front of a hundred people.

“What are you smiling about?”

“What?” he asked, distracted. “Oh—it’s nothing.”

“Contemplating revenge, are we?”

Cocking his head in surprise, he smiled. ”How do you know?”

“I have my gifts,” she said. “Vengeance is something I hold to as well.”

“Really?”

“Of course, deer. Now let’s go to the west balcony. I want to enjoy the fireworks.”

“All right.”

They passed a couple in the hall who jerked apart as they realized Luca and Lady Ano were approaching. The woman had her back to the wall, the man leaning over her. Now, their lips no longer locked together, they whispered as if acting completely natural, but their shifty eyes made Luca want to vomit.

He gave them a dirty look.

Then he stumbled.

“Be careful,” Luca, Lady Ano said. “You might fall and hurt yourself.”

“I’m fine.”

Lady Ano chuckled. “Indeed.”

“Wow!” A woman in a red kimono with white-gold hair exclaimed. “They just keep going, Lucius.”

“It is a marvel,” the man named Lucius said.

Duke Papero Braigo watched the fireworks from the balcony above, listening to the conversation between the lord and lady.

Papero was an intensely curious man, but also one of opportunity. It was surprising what you could learn about a person just listening to their small talk when they thought no one else was nearby.

That was why Papero was always careful about what he said in public, but especially when he thought he was not being overheard by someone else.

And as these thoughts came to him, all the while the distracting conflagration of fireworks in the sky, someone—a presence at least, watched him from above.

I can sense you.

Whoever was watching him was no noble lord of lady. Perhaps one of the servants? No. The curiosity and malicious, yet restrained intent, could not have been a servant.

Papero had no enemies among the commoners.

At least none that he knew of, and he was pretty sure he had none. But even had he enemies not of the nobility, what would be the chance?

Whoever was watching Papero had no idea that he was aware of his presence. Papero turned slowly and put his back to the marble railing and listened to the conversation below.

A normal person would never be able to make out the different voices and the words amidst fireworks popping off in the sky. But Papero was no normal person.

In order to seem completely normal, he reached and rubbed the back of his neck, then craned his head back as if he had a small ache that he was massaging.

That’s when he saw who was watching him.

It was a figure, clad all in black, wearing a hideous mask.

He did not react as that figure pulled back into the shadows. With nowhere to hide except inside that nook, the figure was probably still watching him as he smiled like a fool, as if he were simply daydreaming.

In this case, it was past midnight now.

That man…

He had not been Florencian.

And there is no way that was a Lucian assassin. Very interesting.

Turning back around, he glanced out over the grounds and listened.

“I don’t know if I can hold my temper around those Lucian dogs! What if I should become incensed because of a cruel joke or an ill jest at my expense in front of dozens of people?”

“I will be there,” the woman said.

“Will you, Angelica?”

Angelica…

Yes, Papero thought. Angelica Bronte of Florencia.

A sensible woman.

That figure in the dark receded. He must have slipped by while Papero wasn’t watching—using that opportunity while he thought he hadn’t been discovered.

Whoever that man was, his intentions were ill indeed.

Very interesting.

It would never work. Empress Caelestinius was a dreamer—a fool. And so was that Emperor Justin, it seemed. It was quite unfortunate that Zanna was higher up in the noble line of succession than Kaisorra.

But not by a lot.

If she and her sister died, Kaisorra would be next in line. Almost. So close. A part of her wanted to hiss in fury—had hissed in fury upon learning of the Battle of the Dead Emperors.

Why could not all of the Caelstinius line have perished on that day?

She was sinking into one of those moods again. Instead of doing that, she put on a smile and ordered her servant to bring her some brandy as she watched the fireworks. They were quite lovely.

Tomorrow, she would enjoy herself.

Oh indeed.

The proceedings were sure to be full of juicy moments of anger and emotion. Perhaps violence would even break out?

But apparently Zanna and Emperor Justin had that all worked out. There were many distractions planned to keep the two noble societies from killing one another.

But will those distractions work?

Kaisorra smiled.

I will be ready if something breaks out. I will not be drawn into a bloodbath, to be remembered like that of the Dead Emperors.

Perhaps Kaisorra would have her turn to reign soon.

Had she been the Empress of Lucia, this parley foolery would not be taking place. Or… Perhaps it would. Perhaps her knights and mages would be lying in wait, to strike the Florencians down in their beds?

“Luca!” she called. “Do you have the wine, my love?”

“Yes, yes. I have it here.”

“You’re not still angry about what that little dour black rose said to you, are you?”

“What? No, of course not,” he said, shrugging with a face. “Where are the damn servants when you need them?”

Kaisorra laughed, a low melodic tinkle. “Never you mind about the servants. We want privacy now, anyway.”

“Yes!” He smiled. “How could I have forgotten?”

Dante knew—knew—that there were both lords and ladies among the two sides who wanted nothing more than a bloodbath. Their seething hatred ruled their hearts.

At times, Dante felt much the same.

Until he chose to disconnect from it all—to escape it through adventure so that he would not go mad. As a Duke of Florencia, he was high within the line of succession, and in a way, it was his duty to remain close by, to preserve the integrity of the royal throne should anything ever happen.

And yet he had left, had gone out on adventures. He had become the captain of his very own ship. At first, he had doubted what he had chosen to do, and yet he was happy to be away.

In time, he grew to love the life he led.

But he still cared for Florencia.

And he was not unfeeling toward the Lucians and their own plights, many of which were brought on by Florencia, and many others brought down upon themselves.

Dante turned in his bed once again.

The fireworks seemed to never stop. Not that he minded them. He quite enjoyed the colorful spectacle. But much weighed on his mind.

At least he had somewhat of a tenuous ally in Lord Silvanus.

As much as they were both sworn to fight the other, they had a common goal—to preserve life and to prevent a potential bloodbath.

I only wish I had more time to convene a council of Florencian and Lucian lords and ladies to ensure me and Silvanus’ aims for peace.

If there were other lords and ladies with similar goals, he wanted to meet them, Lucian or Florencian.

It was in the interest of both empires to maintain peace, and if their rulers wanted those things, then it behooved the nobilities on both sides to enact such aims independent of their royal superiors.

Dante closed his eyes.

He did not sleep well.

Moaning, Emily trudged into her washroom where she had prepared herself a steaming hot bath. She needed to soak, to massage away the day’s hurts.

Gods, I’ve never worked so hard in my life!

She slipped her clothes off and stepped into the tub of hot water as fireworks exploded outside, casting soft plumes across her curtains. At first the water was too hot, but now, as the sensation of warmth traveled across her skin, she prickled with gooseflesh and shivered with delight.

She moaned again at how wonderful and relaxing it felt. She reached up and massaged the base of her scalp just above her neck as she closed her eyes.

Today, she had caught the young lord Nicholas Ardovani with a Florencian girl. The thought made her smile. But at the same time, she feared for them—for their forbidden love.

If the gods willed it, then this parley would go smoothly.

Perhaps they will be allowed to be together?

It was probably a fantasy.

Even though Emily was one to hope, she was not without a sense of realism and pragmatism. She was a maid, but she worked in the House of Gates, and so she was also a warrior.

She would fight if it ever came to that.

That was sensible.

Only time would tell what would happen. Even she did not know the true nature of this parley, but she felt something was amiss.

Despite the summertime, the night air was cool and she had the window cracked open to allow in the fresh night air.

Even in the tub, she could smell the grass and the dew forming on the thick greenery of the gardens.

She opened her eyes, the water feeling only lukewarm now.

She had fallen asleep in the tub.

Rats.

Before she caught a chill, she got out, dried off with a towel of thick linen and slipped into her bed, ready for another day of hard work, and if need be, fighting with sword and sorcery.

Despite her efforts, she had enjoyed herself immensely today. When there were so many nobles at the House of Gates, the place felt alive and exciting.

And now there was also an air of tension and danger. She wasn’t used to that. It had been decades since the last altercation with the Florencians in this place.

Pulling the covers up to her neck, Emily breathed in deeply.

All will be fine.

There are many who think as I do, who will fight, not for themselves, but for the greater good. There are too many innocents here right now—women and children who do not wield swords or magic, who have no place in a bloody battle.

With her eyes closed, she realized she hadn’t drifted off to sleep easily like most nights. But she had certainly drifted off in the tub!

Why is it that when I want to sleep, I can’t?

With a bottle of exquisite wine in each hand, Leonardo chased Luna out of the House of Gates, both of them laughing as they ran unsteadily past the servants and guards.

“Come back here!” he called.

Luna turned, gave him an impish smile as she beckoned him with one finger. “You’ll have to catch me!”

They both laughed.

Then he lunged forward.

Luna screamed and ran.

Slippers crunching over the gravel walkway, Luna evaded him by circumnavigating the white marble fountain. But when he got close, she broke off and ran between the statue busts posted intermittently between the lampposts.

“You can’t run forever!” He slowed, tipped one of the bottles up and took a drink, spilling some of the wine over his cravat.

“You’ll never catch me like that.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Certainly not!” She backed away, smiling mischievously at him.

Then it’s time to change my tactics.

He tossed away both bottles of wine onto the grass. “You better run.”

Luna laughed, turned and did as he bid her.

It didn’t take long for Leonardo to catch her, as she ran in her skirts, hiking them up to above her ankles, she was quite slow. But it was the chase most of all that Leonardo enjoyed.

He grabbed her by the waste. “Got you!”

They fell into the grass. Luna screamed as they fought playfully and laughed. And then the fireworks screeched into the air and exploded.

“Oh—goodness!” Luna said.

“It’s just fireworks.”

“Can’t you see the magic?”

“I am magic.”

She laughed at his stupid statement. Then she turned her head to look at him and flinched slightly when she found his face right next to hers.

He leaned in for a kiss.

But then—frustratingly—she pulled away and got up. Luna glanced about. “This isn’t right.”

Damn!

“We need to be somewhere more suitable—more romantic.”

His spirits rose.

She seemed to spot something. “There!” she said, pointing. “Come, Leo!” She ran down a pathway through the gardens. It crossed over the cobbled road and went out into a field.

It was a gazebo.

Following her, she was about to step inside when Leonardo grabbed her. She looked at him as he turned her about half way between forceful and playful.

Then he leaned in for a kiss.

Their lips touched—then she pulled from his grasp. “No,” she said. “I’m not ready, Leo.”

He followed her into the gazebo.

“Do not be afraid,” he said to her back. He went up behind her, his fingers traveling over her waste and around her stomach as he leaned in toward the side of her neck and kissed her there.

She reacted to his touch in a way that, had they been standing in front of a mirror, he would have seen her smiling.

Kissing her again and again, she said, “Oh, Leo.”

He travelled up her neck and onto her jawline. She turned around and he kissed her then. When he pulled away, she smiled, then leaned in and kissed him again, a peck of a kiss.

It’s a start, he thought.

The next time their lips met, he thrust his tongue out. She met him with hers, but then she mumbled something and pulled away. “No.”

He laughed, leaned in for another kiss, but she put her palms against his chest. Inwardly he snarled in frustration. “Too fast.”

He grabbed her from behind and pulled her forward, put his lips to hers. She pushed on him harder, squirmed and wriggled. “Leo! I said no!”

“Dammit!”

She backed away.

He followed.

“I don’t want to see you anymore tonight. Not when you’re like this.”

“Like what?” he snapped.

Luna shook her head. “No. You’re drunk. This isn’t you.”

He moved forward, but she turned and ran outside the back of the gazebo and out into the grass.

“You damn wench!” he hissed, and chased her. Leonardo was about to grab her by the shoulder when Luna hit something.

She cried out and fell on her backside.

What in the bloody hells?

“Owe!” she cried, rubbing her forehead.

There had been something… magical in the air.

Leonardo stepped past her, reached out with his hand, expecting something to bite him. Then his fingers touched an invisible barrier, the magic there rippling and luminescent.

“What—what is it?” Luna asked, still on her backside.

“I… don’t know,” he said, completely baffled and somewhat alarmed both at once. Something inside him forewarned him that this was not good.

“Goodnight.”

Angelica Bronte smiled. “Goodnight, Lucius.”

With a final nod, he closed his chamber doors, leaving her standing in the corridor amidst the glow rock lamps. There were no guards here, so she was completely alone. She stared at his door for a moment.

Finally she signed.

They were good friends, Angelica and Lucius. She knew him well, and she was worried about him. Lucius had a temper and a deep seated hatred for the Lucians, through no fault of his own.

He had lost friends and family to the conflict.

It was normal to be bitter.

He’s a deeply feeling man, though. He’s more biter and resentful than most on this matter.

Angelica just hoped he didn’t do anything brash tomorrow. That was why she had determined, both internally, and verbally, that she would stay close to Lucius during all of this.

To help him should he lose control.

The fireworks were still going off in the distance. Angelica could barely hear them now as she turned and strode toward her own chambers, which weren’t far.

Perhaps it would have been wise for Emperor Justin to allow some lords and ladies to abstain from coming to this parley.

But that had not been the case.

One does not refuse her emperor. If that happened, you would be branded a traitor, excommunicated and your lands and titles stripped—perhaps even put in prison.

During war time, measures were harsh—and with Florencia and Lucia, it was always war time.

Angelica reached her chamber doors and went into her rooms.

She wanted to sneak back to his chambers. Wanted to so bad.

Sicca glass stood in front of her window, the curtains drawn and the windows opened. As the fireworks cracked whined and exploded with colorful plumes and magical aesthetics, she placed a hand in front of her and looked at the moon with one eye. She moved her hand over the first moon, then away, then over.

She stopped and watched the fireworks with a heavy heart.

They were beautiful—more beautiful than she could ever experience them during any time in her life. They made Sicca think of Nicholas. And yet she cared not for the fireworks—only for him.

Part of her knew these feelings were silly.

And yet, they were all she cared about as her heart beat faster when she thought of her Lucian love. She was deeply worried they would never be together.

It was surprisingly easy to keep up correspondence, even with a Lucian. The two empires still traded and shared information, despite constantly bickering, fighting and going to war with one another.

It almost seemed like a sport.

That made Sicca angry and she clenched her fists.

Should I go to him?

It was a bad idea.

The Lucians were surely retiring to their chambers now. All would be quiet. Which meant less distractions to help conceal her if she should be spotted.

Even with her magicks, she still risked being caught—just like she had by that maid with the sword. Sicca was still uncertain if she intended to tell someone about them.

But a part of her knew that girl would not.

If she snuck into Nicholas’ chambers, his family would be nearby—and if she got caught, that would be the end of them together.

She would stay in her rooms.

Rustling came from the bed. “A long day awaits tomorrow,” her sister, Heliosa said.

“I know,” Sicca said quietly.

“Come back to bed and sleep.”

“In a moment.”

Heliosa said nothing else.

After a little while, Sicca said, “What if you should fall in love with a Lucian lord?”

“What?”

“Tomorrow. We are to ‘intermingle’ as you well know, sister. What if you should be taken with a strapping Lucian lord?”

“Ha!” Heliosa scoffed. “Impossible. They’re all devils. We will probably kill each other tomorrow.”

“But what if…?”

“It’s not possible. I mean… it’s impossible that it could work out.”

“You could run away?”

“And be penniless? I’d kill him myself to keep from becoming poor. Now come to bed or you will regret it. There will be no Lucian lord for you, if you find yourself a wilted flower in the morning.”

Sicca accidentally let out a pained giggle, but stifled herself. Then she didn’t say anything for a while.

“Well, sister?”

Sicca glanced back toward the bed, then turned back to the window. In a quiet tone, she relented. “In a bit. I want to watch the fireworks for a while longer.”

“Um, my lord?”

“What is it, Hans?”

“There is—“ he cleared his throat—“there is one Damien Ash and some other nobles who are making a fuss in the grounds.”

The fireworks had died down now, and all was quiet.

Lord Adrian October knew what this was about. But Damien Ash? He was a particularly young and aggressive lord. He was well prepared to go out and meet them, but why did it have to be Damien Ash?

Adrian got up from his plate of food. “Very well.”

When he got outside, Damien Ash and a small gathering of his hangers-on, including Lady Portia and some other lesser nobles were forming in a group.

“There’s a barrier around the entire House of Gates! You don’t believe me? Go out and touch it as I have!”

“Can this be true?” Lady Portia said, her hands held together over her chest. “Oh, Lord October, you’ve come.”

“Indeed he has,” Damien said.

Looking at them, he said, “How can I assist you?”

“You are the Empress’ confident,” Lord Ash said. “I—no we—demand to know why a barrier has been erected over the House of Gates! Is this some trick to ensnare the Florencians? Or is it them that has cast this magic over us?”

“I assure you, that what you have experienced is no trick by either side. I also ask you to remain calm, Lord Ash.”

“Calm? I can’t leave the grounds, and I want to know why, General!”

“It is as our illustrious empress has decreed.”

“What?”

“How can this be?” Portia asked. “Why would she do such a thing?”

“Not without good reason,” Adrian said. “You will all learn of it tomorrow, as she—along with Emperor Justin, will be informing the entirety of the guests the following day.”

“What?” Lord Ash snapped. His face was going red now. “Is this some traitorous collusion with the Florencians?”

With a quick thrust of his arm and a pointed finger, Adrian said, “That’s treasonous talk and I warn you to be careful, Lord Ash.”

Ash snarled, but said nothing.

At least the vicious little fool knows when to keep his mouth shut.

“You are not to cause a commotion,” Adrian said. “These are the orders of Her Majesty the Empress.”

“And why not?” Lord Ash barked. “Am I not free to speak now?”

“Be careful, Lord Ash, or I will have you forcibly locked within your chambers.”

“Is that so?” Ash asked with a malicious grin, his eyes darting toward his hangers-on. “I have a large entourage, October.”

“It is so,” Adrian said. Weather Lord Ash was implying violence or not, Adrian stood his ground, unafraid. With the Lucian army here under his command, along with many mages and other nobles who would come to his aid, he was unafraid of Lord Ash’s tenuous threat.

“Go!” Adrian commanded. “All of you. Retire to your chambers.”

Lady Portia nodded and walked back toward the entrance while Lord Ash and his sycophants held their ground.

“Disobeying my command is tantamount to disobeying Her Majesty. I ask you to think carefully about your next action… or inaction.”

Slowly the group melted as Lord Ash’s underlings slunk away to do as Adrian had bid.

Finally Lord Ash made a loud noise between disgust and contempt. “Fine, Lord October. You win this time. But don’t think this is the end of this.”

He stalked back to the entrance as he held eye contact with Adrian, who followed him with his gaze until Lord Ash disappeared inside of the House of Gates.

With a sigh, he strode back inside.

With a contented smile, Soriana looked at herself in the mirror, cupped the undersides of her full breasts and pushed them up. Her new corset had nearly killer her, but at least it had made her look stunning.

But even now there were red markings on her skin. They would be gone before she went to sleep. She put on a house dress and sauntered out of her chambers.

“Well,” she said. “That was a very interesting evening.”

“Indeed,” Brassian said from the sofa. “You missed half of the fireworks, sister.”

“This… ‘parley’ Empress Caelestinius has planned for us has just begun. There will be more, I assure you.”

“If you say so,” he said, then lifted his brandy up to his lips. He was still wearing all of his formal clothes and he had a sheen of sweat on his forehead.

“Did you just come back?”

“I did. The fireworks were much better from outside.”

“Where is mother and father?”

“Retired to their chambers, no doubt. It’s past midnight.”

She joined him on the sofa. In the hearth, a tiny fire crackled there, more for aestheticism rather than actual warmth. The night was cool, but not chilly enough to require a fire.

Regardless, Soriana enjoyed it. She glanced at the windows and called the servant before telling him to close them. She didn’t want someone from outside seeing them up here.

“I should change and get ready for bed.”

“Indeed,” Soriana said. “So what do you think will happen tomorrow?”

As he got up, Brassian laughed. “A lot of contention in the air. That is what I think will happen. If it doesn’t lead to some kind of bloodshed. But I hear the Empress and Emperor Justin have all kinds of distractions in store for us so we don’t do that.”

Oh gods…

She couldn’t help but smile with amusement at the very idea. “It seems… desperate.”

Brassian shrugged. “We will see, sister. We will see. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Soriana spent some time staring into the fire. She had actually quite enjoyed the day. She wished this ball or parley, or whatever it was, could continue, but after the Florencians were put into the mix…

Brassian was probably right.

With a heavy sigh that was not devoid of some frustration, she got up and headed to her chambers and her bed.

What would happen tomorrow? And the day after that? And on and on?

I’m… afraid of what I might do.

But fear was not Lucius’s only emotion. He was furious. Near to snarling, he sat in front of his fireplace and honed his blade. If it came to violence, he would be ready.

On the sofa behind him, he had his rune-etched armor. It would deflect a blade attack, and possibly a magical one as well. But of course, that depended on the power of the magic.

Despite his anger and fear, his eyes were beginning to feel gritty. He needed to sleep. He should sleep, so that he was as prepared as he could be tomorrow.

But Lucius knew that even if he got into his bed, he would lay there, tired, but unable to drift off into unconsciousness. He had always had trouble sleeping.

From their chambers Lady Cassandra Constantine could see that bedraggled Duke Papero Braigo wandering about in the gardens. He seemed to enjoy the outdoors.

Then again, it almost seemed to Cassandra as if he were searching for something.

She was in her shift, and he had looked up at the House of Gates, but Cassandra kept the heavy curtains closed, only peeking out at the night fireworks. But now that they were almost all done, she only looked at the moon, and of course, that strange man she had met.

He seemed kind to her, mysterious even.

The day had been wonderful. There were so many beautiful ladies, bedecked in their finest dresses. The men too wore fabulous garments. There had been a feast and dancing, and even some children.

Cassandra did not think this event was one to bring children to, and yet the ball had been abnormally festive. This parley was nothing like the political function she thought it would be.

I should have brought finer clothes.

But it wasn’t her fault. Even her own parents and their friends were somewhat confused. They had expected some of the fine dining and even the dancing, but apparently what had been planned from the highest royal courts of both nations, was for both nobilities from Florencia and Lucia to come together and to…

To what?

Enjoy each other’s company? That didn’t seem likely, though had the Lucians not come, Cassandra would have called it a success so far. But tomorrow was supposed to be the big day.

It was announced, quietly, to all the lords and ladies in the form of decorative letters with the Empress’ personal seal, delivered by the maids from that strange High House Society.

Cassandra understood that the maids were all noble born ladies and that their weapons were not only decorative. She never knew that before—even though stories about the House of Gates were not unknown to her.

Duke Braigo disappeared behind some ornamental shrubs on the other side of the grounds, far from the House.

What was he doing out there?

It was so odd to Cassandra. Maybe that’s why she wanted to learn more about him. But she would probably not get another chance to speak with him. He was a duke, far above her noble stature.

With a heavy yawn, she threw up her arms and stretched, her gaze instinctually going to where the large four-poster bed was. Her parents were in their own chamber across from hers, and aunt Hecate on the other side of the hall.

She climbed into her bed, both excited and apprehensive about the next day. She would have to meet and speak with Lucians.

They’re the enemy.

Ever since her birth, and long before, the Lucians had ever been their enemy. What did the emperor think he was doing? And the empress of Lucia?

Could it be a trick—a trap of some sort?

Or did they truly want a lasting peace between the two empires?

Only time would tell.

As these thoughts roiled within the young lady’s mind, Cassandra slowly drifted to sleep.