“Miss Ma? I know some dances from your native land. We could-”

“No.”

“You’re the Axesnapper, right? I was wondering if-”

“No.”

“Surely you could be so kind as to-”

“No.”

Using quick steps and lowered eyes, Mei raced ahead of the smiles and stares and of the knot of Tuquese making their way sedately around the room. It was unfair. The two with Momin were shielded from these ridiculous invitations by the spy’s gregarious manner while all Mei had were her feet and her growing desire to brandish her dagger to stave them off. Although, given how the Sourans were looking at her, she wasn’t sure that would work.

Dodging Empire and invitation, Mei had completed a circuit of the room when a prim voice said, “Axesnapper, I see that young Kalan has abandoned you this evening.”

“No.” Then Mei heard Dean Bruce’s words. “He’s at the Gray Tower. My brother is guarding him.”

When the dean chuckled at this, Mei knew she’d made a mistake.

“Still, someone must escort the escort.” The dean took in Mei’s hair and face, her dagger and dress. “I’ve been told that you’re friends with young Gallus and the youngest Lucchesi daughter.”

Around them, people spotted Mei, started to come up to her, and then shied away when they saw Dean Bruce. Good. Mei needed to get something out of this.

“Who told you?” she asked.

The dean smiled. “Gossip flies swiftly, Miss Ma, particularly at the Magisterium.”

“Right.” Mei turned away. “Have a good evening.”

“If you don’t have other plans,” the dean caught up to her, “I have the right to stand right next to the stage. Would you like to watch their Offering from there? They’d be able to see you most clearly.”

Somewhere in that tantalizing bait was a hook. The dance invitations had been unbaited hooks, easily dodged, but this one Mei found harder to refuse because she did want to support her friends and having to stand next to Dean Bruce didn’t sound like a bad deal except that Mei had a feeling that the dean wanted to collect Mei.

Best make the baited hook disappear. “I’m Tuquese.”

The dean laughed. “No one would dare object to the Axesnapper and the Head Guard of the Indigo Tower showing support for her… friends.”

Which sounded very rational and very hard to refuse and Mei only had a vague feeling, not proof, not certainty. Maybe she should say yes. Maybe she should just run.

“There you are, Mei!” A Souran wearing a shimmering purple tunic and tight leather leggings joined them, his jeweled eyebrows sparkling as he said, “I was wondering where you were.”

The voice was familiar, but it took a substitution of leather and jewels for jacket and a badge before Mei could say, “Charlie?”

“The very same.” The clearly off-duty scrytive grinned. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you stumped before. Ah, Dean Bruce.” A deep bow was offered to the dean. “Good evening. I hope you’re enjoying the Harvest Ball?”

Bruce’s nose wrinkled. “Miss Ma and I were talking, Mister…?”

“This one is no mister, my dear dean.” Another Souran, this one wearing a white shirt open to his navel, slipped his arm over Charlie’s shoulders. “This is Senior Scrytive Charles Vogt.”

“I see.” Dean Bruce’s eyes ranged over Charlie’s outfit. “I’m surprised that the High Judge allows her employees to dress so… suggestively.”

“This is the Harvest Ball, not an office function, and,” Charlie smiled a shark’s grin, “I suggest you stop what you’re doing.”

The dean’s face went blank. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Dean Bruce,” the scytive lowered his voice, “I know that Academy graduates are proficient at reading between the lines. As such, Magisterium deans must be masters at it.”

Mei looked between dean and scrytive. Whatever Charlie was implying, it was making the dean scowl like a fisherman whose line has snapped.

“It seems that you’re occupied, Miss Ma.” The dean bowed. “Do tell me if you’ve decided to accept my invitation. I’ll be in the Grand Ballroom. Have a good evening.”

When the dean was gone, Charlie grabbed Mei’s shoulders and looked her over. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Mei let out a breath. “I’m fine.”

“Where are your friends?”

“Busy.”

Charlie’s eyes searched Mei’s. “And your brother?”

“Guarding Dwayne…” Mei pulled back. “Why? Are you looking for him?”

“No, it’s just...” Charlie sighed. “Wagner and I went to the house Orlaith Jung pointed us to and there was nothing there. And he never showed up-”

“Charlie, are you working?” The other Souran leaned against the scrytive. “Because you said you wouldn’t.”

“Yes, I did say that. We’ll talk later, Mei.” He winced. “And now I’m being rude. Jens, this is my friend Mei.” Despite her concerns, Mei’s heart warmed at this. “Mei, this is Count Jens Houseknecht, my-”

“Lover.”

Charlie gaped at Jens. “S-sorry?”

“Oh, we can say it in front of your friends.” Jens’s lips slid close to Charlie’s ear. “After all, I’m going back to your cute little apartment later.”

The scrtytive’s face went red. “Jens!”

The count laughed. “It’s such fun to fluster you. So, Mei,” he turned to her, “what are you doing alone?”

Mei glanced at the people waiting for their chance to approach. “I don’t want to dance.”

“Why? Are you shy or-”

“Jens,” said Charlie. “She doesn’t want to… dance.”

Jens blinked, frowned and then said, “Oh, I understand. In that case, it must be so hard, being the talk of the evening I mean.”

Mei frowned. “Why am I ‘the talk?’”

“Ooo, I like that. ‘The Talk.’ I’m stealing that.”

Charlie gave her a look. “You know why, Mei the Axesnapper.”

“Oh, it’s not just that,” said Jens. “Here she is, wearing a Lucchesi original, eating Bradford food, guarding Her Majesty’s assets. Obviously, she wants to be Souran, which makes her-” He caught sight of Mei’s expression. “I know you don’t, not really, but the ones Mrs. Momin brings to these functions are always so controlled, so polite, so dull. Especially these new ones.”

“What new ones?” Mei’s stomach growled, her hunger now longer suppressed by unwanted invitations.

“I’ll grab us some food,” said Charlie.

“Oh, just get a plate for her. I’m not hungry. So, no one’s seen those two,” he gestured at the Tuquese contingent, “before. Their paperwork claims they’re here for ‘diplomatic training’, but I heard that they’re looking for someone.”

The young woman’s every step had zero sway and the young man’s massive shoulders weren’t from doing paperwork. Whoever they were looking for, and Mei knew who, they’d better run.

“Do you know anything else about them?”

Jens shrugged. “They’re either cousins or siblings. They refer to each other as ‘sister’ and ‘brother’,” he used the Tuquese words, “although the boy is very formal about it.”

Mei stared at Jens. “You know Tuquese?”

“Of course he does,” Charlie placed a full plate of food in her hands. “He’s assigned to Ti Mei as part of the Souran diplomatic contingent. It’s a prerequisite for the job.”

“No, it’s not.” Jens accepted a goblet from Charlie. “It’s a hobby that keeps me from dying of boredom. The most excitement we’ve ever had happened a couple months ago when the Jade Lotus decided to search our quadrant for fugitives.”

One of the fugitives Mei paused mid-bite of cabbage. “What happened after that?”

“Nothing. They left, without even a brief explanation as to why they’d practically invaded the place mind you, we filed a complaint, and nothing resumed happening.” Jens gestured to the Tuquese. “I don’t think they found what they were looking for though.”

“Jens,” Charlie had guided them to an empty table so that Mei could put her plate down, “if I’m not allowed to work, neither are you.”

“She asked. I answered.” Jens smiled at Mei. “At any rate, you are a refreshing change of pace, and you look cute in that dress.”

Mei swallowed. “I’m not cute.”

Jens stared. “You didn’t just say that.”

Mei frowned. “What?”

“Cups, how’d you make it this far?”

“I walked?”

Charlie snorted. “She’s not wrong.”

Jens mock-glared at him. “You’re not helping.” He turned back to Mei. “I have a question that you don’t have to answer. May I ask it?”

Mei nodded.

“When you look at someone, anyone, do you want to be… intimate with them?”

Mei frowned. “Intimate? What does that mean?”

“It means private, personal, close,” answered Charlie.

Mei chewed on the question. “I like spending time with my close friends.”

Charlie groaned. “Not quite what we mean.”

“Let’s skip past inneundo.” Jens switched to highly formal and stiff Tuquese. “Honored Mei, have you ever desired to have sexual intercourse with someone?”

“No.”

And suddenly, the invitations, Huan’s comments about catching eyes, even one of the hooks in Dean Bruce’s invitation - Mei was sure there were more than one - made sense. “Oh.”

Jens relaxed. “Oh, good,” he said in Souran, “I was worried I’d have to go have Momin translate.”

Thank the heavens he hadn’t resorted to that. “Am I strange?” Mei asked.

“No.” Charlie patted her shoulder. “No more than we are.”

“That’s hardly comforting.” Something high up caught Jens’s eye. “Oh, it looks like the show is about to start.”

Up in the entrance hall rafters, a lithe girl in silver stood between two panther-like boys, one in green, the other lavender. “Citizens and residents of Bradford. I am Delma Lo Duca and these are my brothers, Giona," the boy in green bowed, “and Mattia.” The boy in lavender bowed. “In just a few moments, it will be our and our company’s honor to perform this evening’s entertainment. So please finish your food and drink, settle your affairs,” she winked to a scattering of laughs, “and we’ll begin shortly.”

“The Lo Ducas are famous for wind dancing,” said Charlie to Mei. “You’re in for a treat.”

Good. She needed the distraction.

***

Only a few royal servants saw Magdala rush out from behind the stage and over to the bank of windows and glass doors that opened out onto the North Gardens. There she watched rain blur the impressive array of fall blooms.

Why hadn’t she stuck to the project Dean Bruce had assigned her? For that matter, why hadn’t she declined Bruce’s invitation to the College of Martial Magic in the first place? Doing either would have allowed her to be here at the Harvest Ball with… Well, maybe not “with”, but at least not on the brink of disappointing the dean, embarrassing her mother, or dooming her project partners.

Why had she taken this risk?

Part of her answer had followed her out here. “Magdala?”

“Dwayne.” Wiping her face, she faced her lord uncle’s apprentice. “Did they send you after me?”

Dwayne shook his head. “Not exactly. I don’t think they’ve noticed me going. When I left, Lucchesi was just staring into space, and Fletcher looked like he needed a bucket.” His deep brown eyes searched her face. “Are you okay?”

Magdala turned back to the window. “I’m fine. It’s just another failure. I mean, I just watched our chances crumble into dust, but it’s fine. We’ll just have to go up there and bear it.”

“You said you got it to work before.” Only the warmth in his tone kept her from hearing an accusation. “And besides it’s not practice; it’s an experiment.”

Magdala frowned. “I don’t think Her Majesty will see it that way.”

“Yeah,” some dark thought tried to twist Dwayne’s face, but he dismissed it, “I don’t think she would, but I do know we’ll find the problem.”

Magdala turned away. “It’s me, isn’t it?”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because there are three people casting, and one of them is me.”

“It’s not you.”

“It could be me.”

Dwayne made her face him. “It’s not you.”

How could he say that with no hesitation? “Why not?”

“Because… Because…” Dwayne’s hands flailed at air. “Because it’s just not. You’ve cast spells in burning buildings, under attack from animated dead, even while on the run from a crazy ice barbarian. I think you’re the reason why this could work at all.”

No, you’re-”

“Without you,” Dwayne took her hand, placed it on his chest, “I wouldn’t be here.”

Later, Magdala would wonder how she could bottle this moment: her hand over his heart, his eyes looking into hers. Now, however, she pulled her hand away. “That’s not true. You’d be here without me.”

“Without you, who would have thought to try this experiment in the first place? Without you, who could have convinced Mei to join our expedition to Yumma? Without you, who could have even created the first spells vials that prove Resonance Theory isn’t just some washed up noble mage’s fantasy?” His right hand briefly brushed against the place where he normally wore the bracer she’d given him. “This is happening because of you, not despite you.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Magdala had to ruin this bottle moment too. “But that was all luck.”

“Who cares? Magic doesn’t.”

“What?”

“I don’t think we can get very far without luck.” Dwayne looked out the window. “Director Giordano pointed that out to me, and as much as it pains me, I agree. But it doesn’t just take luck. It also takes the will to take the opportunity and the skill to see it through. Those plus luck are why we’re not here able to try to this amazing thing.”

They had gone through so much to be here, and Magdala wouldn’t give up a single moment of it, even if she could. She smirked. “So me knocking out the Bishop of Walton was luck?”

Dwayne chuckled. “Not good luck I don’t think.”

“No, definitely not.”

When they stopped laughing, they entered another bottle moment, one where he was so close, the shapes of his muscles clear through his tailored suit, his lips just one step away.

Dwayne ruined it by asking her a question.

“Sorry?”

“Do you have any ideas what we could change?” He repeated.

Right, the project. “No.”

“From what you’ve said, you’ve been getting inconsistent results?”

“Yes.” Magdala leaned against the window. “Ever since we decided to have me countdown, our success rate has been about one in two.”

Dwayne tilted his head. “Why did that work?”

“Because now no one goes too early or too late.”

Dwayne raised an eyebrow. “You?”

Magdala slapped his arm. “Not always. Sometimes it was Colin.”

“But usually you, right?” Dwayne was grinning. “That’s why you lead the count.”

Magdala threw a mock glare at him. “Are you calling me high-handed too?”

Dwayne’s his grin hid behind a serious expression. “Who would sling such slander?”

“If you must know,” Magdala’s ears burned, “Francesca and Colin… and Mei.”

Dwayne’s hand barely held in the laughter.

“Ha, ha.” Magdala lifted her nose. “I’ll have you know that most people aren’t as good at joint magic as you and I are.”

“Ah,” Dwayne gulped, “that was, uh, that was different. Rodion talked us through it, remember? He even made us hold the spells like we were in a choir. What?” As if summoned, Rodion had appeared at his elbow. “What is it?”

While the steward whispered in Dwayne’s ear, Magdala recalled the times she’d done joint magic successfully. Both times, she’d been forced to hold her magic as long as possible, even forced to wait for her partners to match her, like a choir getting themselves in tune.

“Does he? Really?” said Dwayne.

It couldn’t be that simple, could it?

“Fine, I’ll go.” Sighing, Dwayne turned back to Magdala. “Looks like the baron has decided that he does have time for me.” His eyebrow raised. “You’ve figured something out.”

Magdala grinned. “I have. Go be with the baron. I think you’ve been helpful enough.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” No, but Dwayne had more to do than help out hapless nQe mages. “I’m sure.”

Dwayne’s lips pressed together. “Okay, then I’ll see you after the Offering.”

As she headed backstage, Magdala frantically put together a plan not for the experiment, she already knew what she was going to do there, but for her project partners, one of whom had been struck dumb and the other sick. By now, Colin’s reaction was expected, but Francesca’s being speechless was very concerning. It meant that self-doubt, a concept normally as foreign to her roommate as the ocean was to a mare, had wormed its way in.

That had to be dealt with first, so when Magdala rejoined her team, she ignored Colin, went straight to her roommate, and said, “You can do this.”

Francesca’s head came up. “I don’t know if-”

“You can. I can prove it.” Magdala grabbed a large azade sphere out of a crate and dropped it into her roommate’s hands. “Here.”

Francesca frowned at the sphere. “Using this?”

“We- we can’t!” Colin jumped to his feet. “We only have two of those left!”

The key here was Francesca. Colin’s hopes and ambitions would eventually override his fears so long as they had a reasonable person to latch on to.

“Do you know what went wrong?” Hope had begun to nip at Francesca’s self-doubt.

“I do,” said Magdala.

Her roommate’s self-doubt tried to find an ally in Magdala, but she’d left hers bottled next to the window. She wouldn’t be going back for it later.

“Okay.” Francesca stood up. “Let’s get into position.”

“Cups,” Colin joined them, the glint in his eyes belying the tone of his voice, “I don’t know why I agreed to this in the first place.”

“To make history. Now,” Magdala held out her hand, “here’s what we’re going to do differently.”

***

“Are you sure that he asked for me?” Dwayne’s chest tightened as he followed Rodion out of the Grand Ballroom. “Magdala really could use my help.”

“I’m sure, my lord.” Rodion picked up speed. “He sent a lackey to get me to tell you to come.”

Then he turned right, away from the Gray Tower and towards the Entrance Hall.

Dwayne frowned. “We’re not going back to the reception?”

“No.”

Dwayne blinked at the curt reply. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, my lord.”

Convincing. “Rodion,” Dwayne caught the steward’s elbow and stopped him, “what’s wrong?”

“My lord. Dwayne.” A smile tried to stay on the steward’s face, but it slipped away. “It’s not my place to say.”

Dwayne’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not your place to say what?”

The phrase “Nothing, my lord” clearly wanted to exit Rodion’s mouth, but the steward strangled them before it could. “Perhaps Baron Thadden’s goals do not align with yours.”

Part of Dwayne was relieved to hear someone else say it out loud. Part of him was furious to hear it the night he’d have to choose who he supported as the next Royal Sorcerer. “I see.”

“Has he made any effort to understand what you want?” asked Rodion.

Dwayne crossed his arms. “He said he’d free Akunna.”

“Did he?”

“Technically, he said he’d ‘manumit’ Akunna, but that means free.”

“In Soura, manumission is the legal process during which a slave is provisionally transferred to a magistrate while a contract is drawn up to decide how much said slave owes their former owner for the trouble of freeing them.”

“What? That’s not what Lord Kalan did with me!”

“What Lord Kalan did,” said Rodion, “was decide to fail to file the necessary paperwork that would have made you his slave then he make you his apprentice and his heir, which are statuses that declare you never were a slave.”

“Still, it’s something.” Of course, if Dwayne were Akunna, this would only make him even angrier. “He’s also offered his connections.”

“To you or to the Royal Sorcerer’s Office?”

Dwayne opened his mouth to say, “of course me,” but then he remembered what Thadden had actually said, “just as the Royal Sorcerer’s offices needs my connections…”

Rodion sighed. “Just keep it in mind.” He resumed leading Dwayne down the corridor. “We shouldn’t be late for the performance.”

With each step, Dwayne’s concerns gnawed at his heart because it wasn’t just this lie of omission. It was also all of Baron Thadden’s promised allies, who were either pompous, condescending, or, in the case of Ziegler, an odious admixture of both. If Dwayne chose Baron Thadden, he’d be choosing Countess Auer and Sir Stelfox despite the fact that meeting them on anything less than a never basis made his stomach turn.

But not choosing the baron meant he’d have to tell the Queen of Soura he’d failed.

“I am Delma Lo Duca and these are my brothers, Giona and Mattia.” They’d reached the Entrance Hall, where three wind Qe mages looked down on them from high up in the rafters. “In just a few moments, it will be our and our company’s honor to perform this evening’s entertainment. So please finish your food and drink, settle your affairs, and we’ll begin shortly.”

That voice. Dwayne stared at the speaker. Her silvery robes failed to conceal a slyph-like physique. That said her brothers were just as lithe. Maybe that was expected of wind dancers.

“My lord, you’re staring.”

With a grimace, Dwayne tore his eyes away. “Sorry, it’s just…” He coughed. “Where’s Thadden?”

Rodion pointed. “There.”

The baron stood in close conversation with Ziegler on the other side of the room. When Thadden spotted Dwayne, he waved him over with a smile.

“My lord,” Rodion bowed, “I’ll go get you a drink.”

“Thanks.”

When Dwayne reached Thadden and Ziegler, the baron asked, “So, what did you and Director Giordano talk about?”

Dwayne blinked. “Is that why you asked for me?”

Ziegler snorted. “Does a master not have a right to his apprentice’s time?”

“We’re in this together.” Thadden placed a hand on Dwayne’s shoulder. “As such, telling me what you and the Director discussed is in your best interests. After all,” his smile slipped for a moment, “he spent nearly all of his time at Her Highness’s reception talking to you.”

“Here’s you drink, my lord.”

“Thank you, Rodion.” Taking the proffered glass from the steward gave Dwayne the opportunity to brush Thadden’s hands off his shoulder. “He just wanted to know what I was doing before coming her.”

“Oh,” Ziegler watched Rodion walk away, “was that all?”

“Now, Andreas,” Thadden’s smile tightened, “who wouldn’t want to know what horrors Lord Kalan put young Kalan through before abandoning him.”

If Thadden had hoped to put Dwayne on edge, he’d succeeded. With effort, Dwayne kept his tone casual. “We also discussed provisional licenses: who they’re going to, how they can be improved, etc.”

Ziegler smirked. “Obviously, they can be improved by making them official.”

Dwayne affected a shrug. “The Director expressed concerns about the quality of the current provisional licensees. He also wondered,” he kept his eyes on Thadden as he lied, “if their sponsors were even capable of discerning true ability.”

Thadden’s nostrils flared. “I am a sponsor, and I can say, without prevarication, that we sponsors possess the highest powers of discernment as our titles, our fortunes, are proof of Cueller’s Blessing. That means we are called to separate the wheat from the chaff, the dross from the gold, the worthy from-”

“Otto,” Ziegler stepped close to Thadden, “is now the best time?”

“It is the only time. He shows no respect for our office. He questions our…” The baron coughed and re-affixed his smile onto his face. “Of course, the Director has only recently taken an interest in the licenses, provisional or otherwise. It’s… understandable that he would have some questions.”

Behind his back, Dwayne’s fist clenched. Thadden must think him naive, a simpleton who only heard the words that were said and not the tone they were said in.

The horrifying thing was that was very nearly true.

“My lord,” Rodion appeared at Dwayne’s elbow, “Miss Ma is wondering if you’d like to watch the performance with her.”

“Go.” Thadden waved Dwayne away before he could react. “We’ll talk after the Mage’s Offering.”

Dwayne raised an eyebrow. “You don’t want to watch the Offering together?”

“I have some… business to attend to.” Thadden’s attention was already upwards. “Last minute concerns. Nothing you should have to worry about.”

“I see. Until then, Baron.”

“Until then, young Kalan.”

As he followed Rodion to Mei and a pair of men in outfits that looked ready to drop the floor at any moment, as he went through the motions of introduction, Dwayne tried to decide what to do about Thadden. He was still deciding when the music started.

***

As the music started, as silver-robed Delma glided down from the rafters with a strange hooked staff in her hands, Mei set aside her concerns for Dwayne. When the toes of the wind dancer’s left foot settled onto a pillar in the center of the room, Delma stretched out her other leg and then lifted it high over her head. Somewhere, she found the momentum to twirl, and, as she did, her leg and arms and neck carved out shape after shape until she dropped her leg, lifted her chest, reached out to the room with her hooked staff. A horn called, and other dancers, posed as if in mid leap, rose up on platforms lined up against the walls. As one, they bounded up to Delma, their white fluffy tails, short black ears, and long straight horns bouncing with each leap as they formed an eager circle around Delma. After gracing her flock with beatific attention, Delma led them in a swooping dance around the room, the music soaring in their wake.

Since meeting Maggie and Dwayne, Mei had seen a lot of awesome magic, but this magic wasn’t in service of magical discovery or of destruction. This magic evoked rolling fields of green grass, sketched in her imagination a happy flock of woolen antelope following their shepherd, and with each impossibly high leap and each impossibly soft landing, Mei found herself in awe.

After one last lap around the room, Delma led her flock back to the center, where she watched them graze and rest and play as the horns gave way to flutes and strings.

Then a drum boomed, and green streamers reached up from beneath the shepherd and her flock, barricading them in as a horde of horrors emerged from below, their scaly skin and claws glittering in the light. At once, Delma defended her flock, setting upon the horrors with her staff, but each time she turned away from an antelope, a horror would snatch it, rip off its fluffy exterior, and reveal a new horror, which turned on its former guardian. Dauntless, Delma fought until the last of her flock had been taken and the whole horde of horrors began to flee from her. Not willing to let them go, Delma chased the horrors, right up to portal seething with green light and streamers.

“Ha ha haaa!”

A hand pushed through the portal and then another and then, with gleeful malice, the jade and viridian face of Giana emerged. In burst of movement, he pounced and snatched at his sister, but he only caught her staff. Sacrificing it, Delma fled, and with a roar of delight, Giana gave chase, matching her leaps with pounces, her darts with gallops. The chase went from the platforms to the pillars and from there up into the air, Delma always just ahead of him, that grin never leaving Giana’s face. Then he pulled out a horn and blew it, its deep growling shaking Mei’s very bones. At once, the restive horrors joined the chase, some surging up into the air, some rushing onto the pillars and platforms, all cuttin off Delma’s every escape save one: the door that led out of the Entrance Hall and out of the Palace. Seeing this, she raced towards it, dodging claws and teeth and Giana’s grasping hands. When she reached it, she took one last sorrowful look at her lost flock and then stepped through.

The horrors boiled after her, but Giana clapped his hands, and they, and the music, stopped. He reached out, grabbed big handfuls of air and pulled. The horrors resisted, tried to follow their former guardian. Once again, Giana reached out and pulled. This time, some of the horrors slid back, but most still faced the door, still longed for Delma. Furious, Giana flung his hands out and green streamers burst out over the horrors, entangling them with his will. The next time he pulled, all the horrors came, all of them faced him, and finally he was in control. Triumphant, Giana led them to the center of the room and raised his stolen staff to the sky. As one, the horrors surged upwards, forming a whirlwind column of scales and claws and teeth. At the top of the column, no the tower, Giana rose into view, sitting on an ornate chair of skulls and bones. He flourished the stolen staff and smirked down at the audience as the music belted out one final dark chord.

Then the lights went out. When they came back on, the dancers were gone.

“Cups, they are not holding back this year,” said Charlie.

“What is the story?” asked Mei.

“Anda and the Beasts of Kasra,” answered Jens. “A folk tale from the early days of the Queendom. Pretty popular around here.”

“Is it?” Mei glanced at Dwayne, who shrugged. “We’ve never heard of it.”

“Neither of you were raised here. Anda is the shepherd. And Kasra,” Charlie gestured up to where Giana’s throne had been. “is the villain. I’ll expect we’ll see Princess Lyna, the mage, and the rest soon enough.”

“Not in this version, I would think,” said Jens.

Charlie frowned. “Why not?”

“No time.”

Once again, the lights dimmed, and a slow somber tune drifted into the room. Delma, as Anda, drifted into the entrance hall, her head bowed, her shoulders slumped. Not looking where she was going, she bumped into a figure in a long russet-colored veil. Desperately, she pointed back the way she’d come, made her case in gestures and sobs, but the veiled only shook their head and stepped away. Anda found more veiled, made her case again and again, and again and again, they rejected her.

Finally, she approached a tall hooded figure. When Anda made her plea to them, dropping down to her knees to beg, they brandished a silver cup and offered it to her. At first, Anda refused, but since the hooded figure offered nothing else, Anda took the thing and drank from it. As she did, the music’s somber tone lifted, and gold dust drifted down upon her on beams of golden light. Engrossing in drinking, Anda didn’t notice this, but the hooded figure did, and before she was done, they’d summoned the veiled and arranged them into two columns of three. When Anda’s cup was empty, the hooded figure took the cup from her hands, pulled her to her feet, and made her face the columns, whose members raised their arms and formed six veiled walls.

“Wait,” said Dwayne, “that looks-”

“Shh!” said Mei.

As the music faded out, the hooded figure placed their hands over Anda’s eyes. Anda shook her head, but the hooded figure insisted and urged her forward. Frustrated and blinded, Anda began to walk forward.

The first pair, she chose the right one, and a pair of flutes sang its fall. The second pair, she chose left, and the strings joined the flutes to praise its fall. At the last pair, she chose right and, to the sound of horns and all the music of the world, the veil fell away to reveal a tall woman in a silver crown and lavender armor: Mattia as Princess Lyna. The princess nodded, and at once, veils were thrown off, and suddenly six knights in the shiniest armor Mei had ever seen stood before Anda.

Astonished, Anda nevertheless remembered herself and dropped to one knee. Once again, the lights went out.

When they came back on, Dwayne said, “That Rite went a lot easier for her.”

“That was the Rite?” Mei asked. “Stepping through veils?”

“More or less.”

“Seems pretty lazy to combine Anda with the mage,” commented Charlie.

“Oh, shush. You know we don’t have time for that.” Jens gave Dwayne a look. “Are you really a Qe mage?”

Dwayne’s features tightened. “I passed the Rite.”

Jens didn’t look convinced. “I see.”

“I have a question.” Dwayne turned to Jens. “Is this about Paecergad?”

Mei stared at Dwayne. “Paecergad?”

“Old history.” Jens gave Dwayne a look. “Paecergad was a Yaniti fort. It stood where Anders is now. Why do you ask?”

“Because,” Dwayne’s eyes glinted, “this seems like a fanciful retelling of what actually happened there.”

Before Jens could reply, the lights dimmed, and the viridian tower roared back into being, its master Kasra sitting at its peak. Below him and at the foot of the tower, russet veiled dancers made the motions of labor under the watchful eye of the horrors. When one of the veiled tried to run, horrors pounced on them and dragged them back. Again and again, the veiled tried to escape and, again and again, they were dragged back by the horrors. Finally, disgusted, Kasra sounded his horn and, as the veiled cowered and the horrors circled, descended from his throne. He walked among the veiled until he found the first rebel and yanked them to their feet, his other hand ready to grab the air and-

A horn sounded, and Anda and Princess Lyna and the knights charged into the hall. Throwing away the veiled, Kasra commanded his horrors to attack. While swords met claws and armor struggled against scales, the princess protected Anda as the latter muttered into the silver cup. Seeing them, Kasra headed straight for them, shrugging off veiled, striking down knights, and finally meeting Princess Lyna’s blade with his stolen staff. At first, it looked like the princess and her sword had the upper hand, but as her outnumbered knights were overwhelmed, Kasra’s horrors joined him, and soon she was too occupied defending herself from the horrors to stop him from advancing on Anda. However, Anda had not stopped her muttering, and before Kasra could strike her down with her staff, she raised the cup, and horns belted out her call.

Gold streamers flooded the room, freeing Princess Lyna and her knights, ripping the horror off the antelope, and pushing Kasra back to his tower. With a roar, Kasra tried to rally, but with his horrors gone, the princess and her knights could hack at him and his tower until there was nothing left. Wailing, he fell to his knees, tried to beg for leniency, but Princess Lyna wrenched Anda’s staff from him and returned it to Anda. The shepherd looked down at her enemy, raised her staff, and brought it down.

As her enemy fell away, Anda took Princess Lyna’s hand then looked up to the ceiling. Around them, the gold streamers gave way to silver and lavender that flowed up under Anda and the princess, carrying them up to the top of a new shining tower crowned with a throne made of air and light, or what Mei suspected was actually well polished aluminum. There, Anda left the princess on the throne and continued her rise up into the rafters, the music rising with her until she was gone.

After a moment of silence, the crowd broke into raucous applause.

Mei joined them. “Is it like this every year?”

Charlie shook his head. “No, the Lo Duca usually only perform at the Sower’s Ball in the spring.” He looked around. “Where’d your friend go?”

Mei looked around. “I don’t know.” Rodion was gone too. “Maybe they wanted to get good spots to see the Offering?”

“Or maybe he didn’t like how Kasra was being treated in this production.” Jens lifted his eyebrows. “Think he’s a descendant?”

Charlie looked shocked. “Jens!”

“I’m just asking.”

As the wind dancers assembled in the center of the room to receive their applause and accolades, Mei’s attention settled on Delma in the center, whose movements during the performance had started to more and more familiar.

Particularly the way she’d landed.

“Mei, are you coming?” asked Charlie.

“Yes.” Mei put her suspicions aside. Maggie was more important now.