Kyrian, still in his bronze mask, stood in the middle of the arena.

No, I cried over the realization. He was to be the sun to my moon, the sulfur to my quicksilver, the masculinity to my femininity. My eyes wide, my guts twisting from the betrayal, I looked toward Sebastien for salvation. He pushed his chin forward. Go on, he seemed to encourage.

Kyrian wasted no time in approaching me. His arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me in close to his chest. My own arms only had one place to go: around Kyrian's shoulders. I was so uncoordinated, it felt like my bones and muscles had been replaced by coal. The orchestra sprung to life to assist us in our performance. Its boisterous melody cleverly contained a darker undertone.

Once he had me in his grip, he turned and spun me furiously. There was not any transition to the rapid, angry movement. It left me no choice but to become submissive to his power and energy. My feet automatically followed his lead; he was so sure-footed that it was all I could do to keep upright. It was like he had rehearsed a dance I didn’t know any of the steps to. I stumbled to keep up with him. Kyrian was surprisingly experienced and was able to circumvent the error's consequence by forcing me into a twirl before bending me over his arm. There was so much momentum behind it that one of my legs lifted five feet off the ground. For the couple of seconds my back was braced against his arm, I attempted to catch my breath. I hadn't caught it before he threw me upwards and waltzed across the floor. It made me lightheaded.

It occurred to me he was the predator, and I was the prey.

Being this close to him, I could smell his earthy scent. I could feel his sturdy arms around my body, guiding me, and his breath against my cheek and neck. His breath was audible against my ear. I could taste his sweat that had formed as he exerted himself. I could peer into his copper eyes, something I had never done before. I had grown so accustomed to his invisibility that seeing him now in person was bizarre—even if his face was still concealed by that bronze mask.

Then our dance changed. It might have been because of my conscious slowly realizing whom I was dancing with, and the surge of resistance that came with it. I was ashamed of allowing him to pull me in whichever direction he wanted. Or it might have been because of his own surge of fury exploding out of the cage he'd locked in. Or it might have been a combination of both. The tension between us was boiling to a feverish pitch. Words didn't need to be exchanged for us to remember the mutual hatred between us.

I was a skilled enough dancer to assume the lead at the next opportune moment. That insurgency caused Kyrian to stumble. I felt the pressure of his hands against my lower back as he momentarily relied on me to find his balance again. I heard his surprised inhale of breath.

My pride was quickly extinguished a few steps after I gained domination. Kyrian released his hold on me, and milliseconds later, his hands were pushing against my shoulders, thus sending me teetering backwards. I wobbled in my heels. My abs strained against the force of gravity that threatened to send me sprawling to the ground. I maintained my balance long enough for Kyrian to grab ahold of me again. In the effort to work against the momentum against me and keep me off-balanced, he spun me around. I instinctively lifted my legs up so that they were parallel to the ground. There was nothing to do in this position to regain power.

I waited, and the moment he stopped spinning, I acted. I tore out of his arms, spun around his back, and instinctively knew that he would be waiting when I reached his other side. His arms grabbed me, but before he could assume control, I already had it.

For seconds, or minutes, it was a battle for control between us. Both of us desired to lead, and it could have ended up with toes being stepped on, but our shared experience and ability to predict the other's move almost made it seem like it was choreographed. Our bodies were wired to the furious melodies the orchestra produced, and in turn, the orchestra was connected to what we were feeling right at that moment. Rage and loathing exploded between us. Loving, tender gazes had no place in this dance where murderous glares and snarls reigned. Gracefulness was exchanged for forcefulness. It was a fight masquerading as a dance. This was not supposed to be appealing; it was war.

Kyrian threw me in between his legs, and I slid across the floor before springing up. My ballet arabesques and developpes were more like roundhouse kicks and jumping front kicks in Kyrian's direction. He disguised his blocks with feigned grace as he yanked me in. I was skilled enough to relax into the resulting spin and then the lift putting me above his head. My body was sensing his every movement and prepared retaliation. It was how I knew he would let me fall from that lift above his head. I was able to execute a backflip and land on both of my feet. Yet, the momentum didn't release me, and I struggled to maintain my grace by executing several more backflips. I landed against the pillar with my hand curling around a decorative bo staff that had been a part of an abstract decoration. Instinctively, I withdrew the staff from its vase.

Even though it had been years since I had handled one of my favorite weapons, my body responded, and the muscle memory twitched into place. It reacted to that smoothness in my grip. I paused after I eased into a sideways leaning squat stance my body knew quite well from Galileo's lessons. The staff was elevated above my head and parallel to the ground. The facade of our dance was over; that sense of propriety had shattered between us. Our hatred was escalated to the point that it ripped the curtains of the facade down to reveal what this dance really was. It was our souls attempting to conquer the other.

Kyrian stood a couple of yards away from me. He was wary as he waited for me to finish the fight. His feet were separated in a warrior's stance. His jaw was set, his eyes were narrowed. The move was mine to make.

I erupted into a sprint. At the pivotal moment, I dug the staff into the ground and leapt up. My forward momentum kept propelling me forward. It was my intention to slam into Kyrian's chest heel first. At the last moment, he pivoted away. As soon as I landed on my feet, I brought my staff up before me to defend my most vital organs. Kyrian's retreat had put him within reach of another piece of decoration using the staffs as its principal component. Not to be unarmed against me, Kyrian yanked one staff from the vase. From the smooth way he brought it in front of himself, I knew he had been trained in the art. This time, it was he who moved first, prepared with a combination of moves that I had to fend quickly against.

The staffs added another dimension to our battle. We weren't attempting to harm another, not in front of the masquerade spectators. It was more like a battle for supremacy. At first, our staffs slammed against each other in the deadly combination of assault and defense until one of us could outmaneuver the other and pose the staff's point directly at a vital point of the body, such as the throat, head, and knees. It was a declaration of skill, and I was forced to admit that Kyrian had been well-trained; he could keep up with me.

At one point, we warily circled each other. The adrenaline in my body was making me aware of things I probably wouldn't have been aware of before. My knees were slightly bent as I side-stepped along in an invisible arc. The smoothness of the staff in my hands. The intense focus both of us had; neither of our gazes shifting away. We were at an impasse.

Kyrian swung the staff around in a variance of a form; he was still far enough away from me that none of his strikes were meant to connect. His steps took him around the arc of an invisible circle; I moved in sync with him and kept to the opposite side of the circle. When he spun his staff around in quick rotations, I was careful to keep my eyes focused on his core and not allow myself to be distracted by the staff.

He made an ostentatious show when he suddenly jumped high into the air. His precision was great enough for him to slam the point of the staff against the ground. It bounced right up into his waiting grip. The movement brought him into striking range, and I was ready with my staff raised above my head to defend against his as it was brought down against my skull. My arms vibrated from the shock of the strike. The staff held firm. Stunned, I stared at him. Had I not blocked, that powerful strike would have given me a concussion.

Kyrian retreated to the other side of our battle circle after his blocked strike. He caught my wide-eye gaze and shrugged, as if to say, I knew you'd protect yourself.

I brought my staff down to my side. I knew this game. It was one of both intimidation and performance, and Kyrian had just finished his side of it. I waited until the music had started a new verse before I started. My staff flipped into my opposite hand before I started moving. It had been years, but my body still remembered the form's graceful movements. I spun the bo around. When I was near enough, Kyrian defended against my strikes. One, two, three strikes, letting him get accustomed to the quick pattern before I feinted. I guided the staff to the back of his extended elbow and forced it forward.

The ground vibrated underneath my feet as he flung himself into a somersault from the momentum.

I backed away as he maneuvered himself into a lunge position, facing me with a glare.

It was my turn to shrug to say, You'll be fine.

Our staffs collided once more.

It was probably difficult to tell who was blocking and who was striking; we were moving too fast around one another and all our moves blended into the next one. Somehow, the orchestra's music complimented our battle, and it produced musical riffs that mirrored our fury. The only pauses in our fight came when Kyrian maneuvered his staff in such a way that he used it as leverage against mine. It became a battle of strength that I ultimately lost. He forced me down to my knees. My arms were quivering from the amount of force he was using against me; my jaw was locked in a grimace. I stared up into his eyes, which I could see through the cutouts in his mask. There was not any pity residing in his gaze.

However, he released the pressure against my staff and took a step back. Neither of us had to say it: he had won that competition. Agitated and grunting, I shot to my feet. I bit my bottom lip to erase the grimace and humiliation of my defeat. To release the tension that still lingered in my arms, I rolled my shoulders. I inhaled one last time before I seized dominancy. I would not hold back, as he hadn't. I rushed at him. When I was about two feet away, Kyrian's staff came to sweep my feet out from underneath me. I jumped just in time to avoid it banging against my ankles. Once again, our staffs met in a battle of fury, creating our own music. This time, my grimace was from determination.

I was so connected to Kyrian and his movements that I sensed when he was about to sweep me off my feet again. This time, I allowed his staff to connect against my ankles and work with gravity to propel me to the ground. As soon as I was there, I twisted onto my back, wrapped my legs around his, and yanked. His staff clattered against the ground as he was brought down. I detangled my legs from his, sat up, and sprung into a lunge—all in a fury of motion.

The tip of my staff pressed against Kyrian's throat as those wide copper eyes stared up at me with wonder.

A burst of applause erupted from the staged audience. It was enough to disrupt my focus, and I stumbled back. The audience became a blur of faces. The ballroom amplified their applause. It burned my ears. My face was flushed from my shame and the exertion of battle. The quick realization hung in my mind: I had allowed my emotions to control me and thus ruined the tradition behind this dance.

Reluctantly, I released my hold on my staff and allowed it to clatter against the ground. I sought retreat from the stares following me. The gathered mass by the service hallway divided into two as I rushed towards escape. They gave me a wide berth, as if I was dangerous. I waited for Sebastien to call my name, to demand that I stop so that he could remonstrate me in front of everyone. There was nothing, and I got to the service hallway unmolested. I went directly towards one of the windows, placed my hands on either side of the sill, and hung my head. My breathing was still erratic, as was my heartbeat.

"You're just going to run out of there after you lost control?"

My spine straightened with discord. It was a voice that I did not want to hear. "If I had lost control, you'd be dead," I growled. Turning around, I saw him there with his masked face. Kyrian was blocking the route back into the ballroom. Alone with him, overwhelmed by my shame, he was a bit intimidating. His costume designer hadn't spared any expense.

"Why didn't you? You've killed enough people by now that my death shouldn't matter to you. London. Berlin. Wasn't it Beijing just last night?"

"Did you come out here for any other reason other than to try to make me feel more ashamed than I already do about everything?" I inquired with a snarl. "If you hate me so much, then why did you even come here in the first place, knowing I would be here? We both know that you don't have the power to terminate me, and the people who do are standing in the way. They want me alive for some reason and will not allow anyone to assassinate me—even if it is made to look like an accident. So why didn't you just maintain your distance tonight and go on like I didn't exist?" As I spoke, my voice became more heated with passion. Every muscle in my body was rigid, as if I had just been struck by a million bolts of electricity. I locked eyes with Kyrian as I advanced on him. There was a swirl of hatred and disgust residing in his gaze, along with something else I couldn't quite place.

Kyrian's body trembled with fury. Before he could answer my inquiries, someone else intervened. "Is everything all right?" Jay's shadow appeared in the ballroom's wide doorway, backlit by the bright candlelight coming from the ballroom. He took another step into the hallway, and the shadows disappeared from around him.

The seraph tossed him a snarl, pivoted, and rushed through the doorway Jay had just vacated. I watched him disappear into the shadows.

"Well, he’s a very nice guy," Jay commented sarcastically. "How are you? Are you okay?" His hand landed on my shoulder, meant to help me relax. However, it did the opposite. It wasn't the time to comfort me.

"I don't like him," I snarled.

Jay removed his hand from my shoulder as if it burnt him. "Really? I would have thought otherwise." Jay was not teasing.

"Why would you say that?"

Jay shrugged and looked away, unwilling to meet my gaze. "There is tension between you two."

"How observant you are," I insulted. "He thinks he's better than everyone else because he's the prodigal son and can't make any mistakes. I'd love to go and shove his face into horse shit so he'll be brought down to our level."

"No, it isn't that." Jay shook his head. I stared at Jay, incredulous, waiting for him to explain himself. "It just seemed like you were a couple of seconds away from tearing each other's clothes off and fornicating right there on the dance floor."

I blinked in disbelief. This time, he was not afraid to meet and hold my gaze with the challenge. "I don't know what you think you saw, but I despise him, and that would never happen in a million years," I hissed.

"Have you seen the way you two interact with each other?" Jay challenged. "It didn’t seem like it. There's passion there. Too much, I think." Jay shifted on his feet and turned to look back into the ballroom.

Incredulous, I asked, "Are you jealous?" Jay's eyes shot to the archway separating the ballroom and service hallway in confirmation. "Why would you be jealous of him? He means nothing to me, Jay. If I never see him again, it would be the greatest thing in the world. You mean more to me. Sixteen years of friendship isn't something I'm going to forget."

"He rescued you from the jail. He can keep up with you. He's a seraph prince," Jay muttered. He didn't need to say the rest of what he was thinking. I left you in your cell. I would have let you spend the rest of your life in prison. I'm nothing. Just a messenger.

"He's a fuckturd," I responded quickly, earning a smile from Jay. His body language relaxed, and he slowly turned towards me again. Still, I didn't want to finish the evening dealing with his constant peculiar emotional state. Whatever opinions I had were silenced in the effort to calm whatever insecurities Jay was carrying around. My hand slipped down his arm until I met his hand and intertwined my fingers in his. "Want to see if we can find any tequila or something?" I suggested. If I had to ask Cassiah to raid the shelves for me, I would.

Jay's face brightened at the suggestion. I let him lead me out of the hallway. A couple of glances were thrown in our direction. The masquerade guests had returned to enjoying themselves now that the performances were finished. The dance floor was filled to the brim with dancers while even more guests were socializing around the perimeter of the room. I let out a sigh of relief over no longer being in the spotlight.

We had just passed through the threshold and paused to scope out the floor when a rowdy mass of four masked guests bumped into us roughly. Jay and I were ripped apart. For seconds, it was a jumbled mess of crimsons, satin, ostentatious headpieces and masks, and elbows. I was lost in the pandemonium. I was pushed backwards off-balance, and teetering against gravity and my high heels, I was caught by a pair of powerful arms. Breathless, I stared up at the enchantingly beautiful green eyes. For seconds, I was captivated by the charm and intimacy in his gaze. My heartbeat spiked against my chest.

Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

The spell was broken when I felt the tension of my necklace's chain against the back of my neck before the chain suddenly snapped. I caught a glance of a hand encircling the sapphire gem as it was pulling away. The owner of that hand was spinning around and darting into the service hallway, the train of her crimson satin dress following her on the floor. The man who had grabbed and balanced me released me before darting after her and the two others.

I wobbled on my feet, still reeling from what had just happened. Suddenly, my chest felt light, and I missed the pressure of the sapphire gem resting against it. Jay squeezed my upper arm. He had scratches running across his face and some reddening near his eye, as if he had been hit during the scuffle. His eyes searched me for any visible injuries, just as I searched for more on him. "Did they hurt you?" he forcibly inquired when he didn't see anything.

I shook my head, scrambling for breath. "They took the necklace."

By this point, Sebastien was hurrying to us. From the concern in his expression to the soldiers that were assembling behind him, he had seen exactly what happened. The soldiers brushed past us and over the threshold into the hallway. I could hear the patter of their feet chasing after the thieves. Sebastien stayed with us. He examined me, assessing the damage done during the mugging. I quickly advised him about the necklace.

Sebastien's expression darkened. "They'll get it back. They know this castle better than the thieves, who will be arrested and charged for this."

"Why would they come after me?" I asked. "There are a lot of other jewels being flaunted around here tonight." One in particular rested on a woman's finger and consisted of a seven-carat diamond that was very difficult to miss with the way she had been throwing her hand around.

"You weren't exactly keeping a low profile out there," Jay muttered, earning my glare.

Sebastien ignored him. "It's a very important piece. I didn't think anyone here would know its significance and be stupid enough to steal it right off you. Did you recognize them?"

I frowned over the question. Everything had happened too quickly that I didn't have the opportunity to assess very much. Now, however, I couldn't shake the feeling of that odd familiarity I got from all four of them. I tried to focus on the flashes of the mugging my memory retained; all my mind did was return me to that memory of being held by one of the male parties as he prevented me from falling. I was forced to tell Sebastien that I didn't recognize the perpetrators and admitted to not feeling confident about my memory. Sebastien looked disappointed by my honesty.

Sebastien encouraged Jay and me to enjoy the rest of the event as he ushered us away from the hallway. It was impossible to do as he suggested, and I found my gaze tracking him down often. Whatever he was doing, it was not enjoying the masquerade himself. He lingered on the perimeter of the ballroom and had several private discussions with Spymaster Rixsyn and Archangel Emerson. At one point during the night, the spymaster returned to Sebastien and pressed something into the chancellor's hand. From the glimpses of blue I could see shining through the gaps in Sebastien's fingers, I knew they had retrieved the sapphire. However, Sebastien didn't look pleased, even though his property had been returned. I could only assume that the perpetrators had escaped arrest.

The masquerade fell on the longest night of the year, and thus lasted from sunset to sunrise. It had been one arduous endurance marathon, lasting for about fourteen hours. Exhaustion had sneakingly cast its net over the festivities. The dancing had stopped hours ago, and more people had taken to slouching around the tables. The attendants had switched to distributing coffee right around the time that the dancing had trickled off. Those who had consumed too much alcohol had passed out; there were several bodies slumped over tables or huddled in a corner somewhere.

Jay and I were reclining on the bottom steps of the staircase together when Sebastien approached us. "Do you mind if I talk to Briara for a couple of minutes?" Sebastien's inquiry was just a polite facade. All of us knew it. There was no way that Jay would deny the chancellor anything. He quickly scrambled to a standing position and muttered something about grabbing some coffee for us before scurrying away. With a sigh, I pushed myself to my feet.

"Did you get the necklace back?" I questioned.

"I did," Sebastien confirmed, his tone grim. "It's locked back in the vault in my office, where no one will be able to steal it."

My arms crossed in front of my body, and I shifted on my feet. "I apologize for being so vulnerable that the offenders thought I would make suitable prey." I knew better. "I'm also sorry for making a mockery of the performance." I knew better with that, too; I had been taught how to control my emotions, how to compartmentalize.

Sebastien glanced at me with surprise. "You didn't make a mockery of it; you did exactly what you needed to do. The female and male are supposed to be belligerent towards each other, and thus explode together. Tonight’s performance was one of the best we've seen for some time." I stared at him, bewildered. I had almost pulverized Kyrian's windpipe with the staff. Sebastien went on. "As for the theft, it's not your fault," Sebastien said grimly. "I wish I knew if the perpetrators understood exactly what they were taking when they took it. It scares me wondering if the Resistance has that knowledge."

"You think they were here tonight, the Resistance?"

Sebastien's gaze was distant as he assessed the ballroom and its loitering guests. "I think there is a mole in the government." Sebastien breathed in deeply and then released the breath. "Yet, that isn't what I wanted to speak to you about." He dug into his pocket quickly before producing a small black velvet bag. He unceremoniously handed the bag to me. Manipulating the outside, I felt three small, pliable oblong entities lingering at the bottom. My gaze questioning, Sebastien explained, "Happy Birthday. I hope there is enough in there to send you to the sanctuary. I want you to see if you can find a solution to your problem, especially with what happened yesterday in Beijing."

My first thought wasn't on destroying the praesidium, it was that with Sebastien's little gift, I could finally see Hawk again. I kept my elation concealed, however, under the dark cloud that came with the gift's purpose. If my theory was correct, and Hawk was the praesidium, then I would have to destroy Hawk to prevent more massacres. Standing there, masquerading as Adriana Penderyn, I realized I didn't know if I was quite ready for that. My hand curled over the velvet bag. "Thank you" was all I said.

"It isn't much, but I hope it will get you there to do what you need to."

"And if I need to go there more than once?" I questioned against the hitch in my throat.

"I hope you don't have to." Sebastien's tone was already layered with his adamant refusal. "Take time over the winter break to do what you need to do."

About twenty minutes before the sun was about to rise, people grabbed their jackets and headed out onto the veranda to find a spot to observe the phenomenon. The ambience was more subdued because of the exhaustion everyone was experiencing. Couples snuggled with each other as they gazed over the descending arrondissements of Astraera. Jay stood close enough behind me that I could feel his warmth. Despite his talk of wanting to take me out on a date and our sexual rendezvous, he didn't try to pull me into him and wrap his arms around me. Still, his stance was protective enough that it radiated a warning to everyone else to stay away. There was no need; I hadn't seen Kyrian since he had stormed out of the hallway. In that little bubble Jay created, we watched as the sun peeked out of the horizon. I smiled as the guests cheered over the first sign of daylight and the purpling skies.

The skies were turning bright baby blue, and the sun had crusted the mountaintop when we dissembled. There was a mass exodus towards the grand staircase. I told Jay that I had invited Cassiah and Macaila back to my apartment and suggested he find his peers on the force and celebrate with them. Disappointment flared across Jay's expression. It was a blessing he left without arguing. I drifted towards the doors to the kitchen.

The ballroom was fairly empty by the time the attendants were dismissed. They filed out of the kitchen in twos and threes, until finally, Cass and Macaila shuffled out. I pushed off the wall I had been leaning against and waited for them to emerge. Cass was a couple of steps ahead of Macaila, who slowed down as if she was reluctant. Yet, the antagonism that had been there at the beginning of the festivities had disappeared. Either she was feeling the effects of exhaustion from the long night, or Cassiah had reminded her I was not the enemy.

"You didn't have to wait; you've had a long night." Cassiah told me as he approached. One of his eyebrows lifted; apparently, I had been the topic of discussion amongst the attendants. If not for my performance, then for being the mugging victim.

"Not any longer than yours," I countered. My gaze shifted towards Macaila. Hers met mine with unveiled embarrassment and shame. It made my heart twist just from seeing it.

"You looked very pretty tonight," Macaila commented.

I smiled thinly. "It's the dress. I'll let you try it on when we get to my apartment."

"Now?" Macaila’s eyes illuminated brightly.

"Of course. It beats walking all the way back to your homes," I pointed out. Cassiah and Macaila exchanged a look. I held up my ultimate trump card: a bag of food and bottle of vodka. "I've managed to save some of the food tonight, and you both can sleep in my bed. I'll take the couch."

Macaila's wide and eager eyes confirmed what I had thought: that the attendants were not allowed to sample the food. "How did you get that?" she asked.

"Let's just say kindness can achieve a lot," I confided. It hadn't been too difficult to ask the kitchen manager for a couple of large servings of everything she still had leftover. "So does that mean my bribe worked and you're coming back with me?" I smiled.

"I'm in. I've been famished for hours!" Cass exclaimed.

Macaila nodded. "Absolutely."

This was the first time I had ever invited someone back to my apartments. I wasn't even sure if it was allowed. The soldiers stationed along the way gave us a curious passing look; even though Macaila and Cass had changed out of their uniforms, their regular clothing still projected they were outsiders. From the way their gazes scanned around them as we walked through the castle, I figured this was the first time they had been this far into the castle. Whatever exhaustion hovered around them from working the entire night dissipated into excitement and a bounce was added to their gait. Their voices echoed in the hallways.

I laughed at them when we reached my apartment and they ran through it, testing all the upgrades they had only dreamt about. Macaila sprawled out on my bed, immediately falling in love with the down comforter and feathered mattress. The bed couldn't contain her for long, and she was in the bathroom, hitting all the buttons. She was amazed with the plenitude of options available for a simple shower, and it wasn't long before she was in the shower, experimenting with the various options. I changed into a simple pair of pajamas and laid out my dress on the bed for her to try on after she was done.

Cassiah was more interested in the erions throughout the front room and the entertainment options they provided. Born into the seventeenth arrondissement, he seemed more amazed with the living conditions than Macaila, as if this was the first time he was ever experiencing them. Again, I was filled with pity, and moved to tell him he could stay here whenever he wanted.

Cass turned his back to me and pretended to be tinkering with one of the erion contraptions. "I appreciate it," he muttered. "But I could never leave my family there while I'm here, mooching off you." He paused, and I sensed that there was more he wanted to say. I kept silent and waited. In the background, Macaila's shower offered a consistency of sound. Finally, the silence prompted Cass to speak. "It's funny. I consider myself a capitalist. I believe hard work should be rewarded and the lazy should suffer. I believe you reap what you sow." Cassiah tried to keep his voice noncommittal and emotionless to suffocate the inherent fury in him. He pressed a random button on erion remote. We were joined by four transparent three-dimensional people who played us no heed. The erion's bodies were lifelike and engaged in a scripted comedic performance around the entire front room—like we were in the middle of the show. The mute button was activated; we couldn't hear anything they were saying. Cassiah followed the performance with his gaze, but I knew he was just avoiding meeting my own.

"The government here pretends to have a capitalist structure," Cassiah declared with an eye roll. "If they really did, then I could have some hope of reaching this level of grandeur in my life if I worked hard enough and took the right path. They like to say it is still possible for an outer ring man like myself to achieve it." Cassiah shook his head in disbelief. This was the first time I had ever heard him express dissent or say something as rebellious as he was now. I had hoped to achieve complete trust with Cass and Macaila to infiltrate the Resistance and felt this was another sign I was on the correct path. "It's all faery dust and stardust, though. Propaganda, illusions. My father worked his entire life away. He graduated the Academia as quickly as he could, almost burning himself out. He thought it was important for him to enter the workforce as quickly as he could and navigate his way up the structure. He earned promotion after promotion. On paper, he got large pay raises—it should have been enough to move us out of the seventeenth, right?"

Since Cassiah shot me a questioning look, I felt compelled to answer around the blockage in my throat. "It should."

Cassiah emitted another bitter snort. "No. See, that's how they keep the weak oppressed and suffering in poverty. The more you make, the more they tax you. You may appear to be making more in theory, and then you realize that any excess you make on top of your original pay rate is stolen by taxes and back taxes. If my father had been allowed to keep even a small percentage of the excess he had started to make, we would have been able to move out of the seventeenth. He's worked himself into a frail body that can no longer keep up with his previous workload and responsibility. We relied on him; and now half of the time, we can't even make ends meet. It's criminal what the government is doing."

"Cassiah." Macaila's hushed and disapproving voice came from the doorway leading to the bedroom. Both Cassiah and I turned towards her. "This is not the time."

Cassiah, always the epitome of nonchalance, turned back to the buttons on the remote. He pressed the one that connected to the erions again. The images disappeared. The button did nothing to erase the tension in the air. Macail’as face was constricted with it. Cassiah remained muted on the matter, and I knew Macaila would not allow the discussion to continue any further.

"You look better in the dress than I do," I commented with a nod at her. The statement was genuine. Her warm sepia-colored skin contrasted with the dress better than my own.

Macaila performed a twirl, complete with her arms lifted. The tiny skirt twirled around her hips. When she finished the spin, she shook her hips back and forth. "I feel like a cheerleader at the caelsphaera games." She laughed a little.

"You can have it," I told her spontaneously.

Macaila's eyes widened. "No. I couldn't take it from you. Wouldn't the chancellor get angry if you gave it away?"

I shrugged. "I doubt he'll even remember it's supposed to be in my closet. It was commissioned for this one event specifically. You'll get more thrill from it than I would. Besides, you earned it tonight."

"They paid us," Cassiah confided. His arms crossed as he leaned against the table.

"Probably not enough," I argued. I could still easily recall the inebriated patrons and their rowdy behavior throughout the night. Some of it was inappropriate, especially when it was directed at the attendants. I perked up, remembering the food I had brought back for them. "You two have to eat. Sit." I directed them to the table. Cassiah was more than eager to jump at the invitation. He was already pulling open the sack where I had stashed the food. Macaila was more hesitant.

"I should change," she said. I followed her into my room to get her a set of pajamas. As I was digging through the dresser drawers to find a matching set, Macaila lingered behind me. "I feel awful now," she started.

Frowning, I glanced over my shoulder. "Why's that?"

"Here you are, making this awful night into a wonderful one for me with the dress and food, and it's your birthday. I didn't even get you a gift."

I found a matching set of pajamas, straightened, and shoved the drawer shut. "What are you talking about?" I inquired.

Motioning with her chin, Macaila gestured to one of the nightstands. Except for the book I was currently reading and a glass of water at night, I generally kept the surface clear. Now, however, there was a small iridescent gift box with a black bow sitting on the table that had not been there this afternoon. A simple tag was attached to the bow. Even from where I was standing, I could read Happy Birthday written across the tag in rich black ink. Frowning, I wondered who the sender was. Besides Cassiah and Macaila, only Jay and Sebastien knew my birthday had been the previous day. My two friends had been unable to get me anything, and Sebastien had already gifted me the ketamine pills. It seemed implausible that Jay would have left me this. Even though he had the financial means now, he would have wanted to see my facial expression as I opened it. If he even remembered—he hadn't mentioned it for the entire night and he had hardly ever left me alone.

I stared at it sitting on my nightstand as if it contained a beautifully wrapped explosive.

"I take it you don't know who it is from?" Macaila observed as she changed out of the dress.

I shook my head. "No."

"Maybe it's from that seraph you danced with," she giggled.

My eyes darted to the ceiling, and I inhaled deeply through my nose. "Why does everyone believe that something is going on with Kyrian?"

"I could feel the sparks from where I stood when you two were beating up on each other, Bria," Macaila claimed. From the other room, Cassiah agreed with her through a mouth of food. "I bet that if either of you had pyra as an affinity, you would have set the ballroom right on fire."

"He wouldn't appreciate that," I muttered darkly.

"Still, I wouldn't hesitate to unbutton his shirt and pants and be his naughty slave for a night. I'd lick his chest, right up to his pecks, and show him how naughty Amhersts are. Though I usually don't go for his type, so I'll leave it to you to do all the licking!" Macaila giggled.

"Mac!" I exclaimed as a blush inflamed my face. "Go and eat." I pushed her out of the room. Seconds later, I heard Macaila screaming excitedly over what I had smuggled out for them. With my friends distracted, I grabbed the gift. My hand was trembling slightly as I undid the ribbon and let it fall to the mattress. It was soon followed by the lid and box. There was a velvet box nestled inside of the paper one. Perplexed, I popped it open. Pinned inside by the satiny pillows was an iridescent diamond. I gently yanked the silver chain out of the box and held the necklace up where it could dangle in front of my eyes. It reflected the bedroom's light into rainbows as if it was a prism.

My breath hitched in my throat.

I recognized the necklace. It was the one from the sanctuary.

I still clutched the velvet box in my hand and looking down, I saw that there was a note just inside of the top portion.

So you will always and forever have a piece of the sanctuary with you.

Happy Birthday, Shadowfire.

-Hawk.

I nearly dropped both the necklace and box at the sight of Hawk's name. Disbelief rushed through me. It had been so long since I had seen my friend from the sanctuary. Although I pined for him, the thought of his existence was tainted by Sebastien’s theory. I remained alone in my bedroom while my friends' laughter could be heard from the other room.

"Bria!" Cassiah called out, as if my thoughts reminded him of me. "What are you doing in there? Get your ass out here!"

"Shh!" Macaila demanded. "She just got a present from her beau!"

"Her beau? That soldier guy?"

"Please, do you think he has the intelligence to get her a present? No, I meant the seraph! Hey, Bria, do you know your erions have recording and transmitting capabilities? You can probably be quite naughty with it..." Macaila's laugh echoed in the room.

I heard a small smack and Cass hissing Macaila's name.

After I placed the necklace back into the box and placed it on my dresser, I moved to stand in the doorway and looked out at my friends. Seeing them laughing and bantering over the feast of food and bottle of vodka in the middle of the reactivated erion, I was overjoyed. That joy was soon overwhelmed with a rush of shock as I realized something.

The reason why the sapphire thieves had seemed familiar was because two of them had reminded me of Cassiah and Macaila.

Yet, that wasn't possible. Was it?