The house was too loud.

Someone in the triclinium, barely two rooms down from Darius’ room where he was hiding, was bellowing music on a loud horn. People shouted their applause, euphoric and drunk. The vibrations from dancing were so immense that they managed to pulse through the concrete floors and rattle the bookshelf by Darius’ bed. It felt like a nail was being driven into his temple.

Darius’ concentration broke. Then, the Spell-Thread twisting itself between his thumb and index finger snapped, causing the spindle to clatter to the floor and the bone whorl at the top to roll away toward the door. The glowing light from the woolen thread faded, leaving only the terracotta oil lamp by Darius’ bed and the pot of Moon-Grass hanging above him to light his room.

Glowering darkly, Darius muttered to himself as he collected his spindle, wanting very much to throw it at either his little brother, the cause of the party, or his father for throwing it in the first place. Stuffing shame down his throat, Darius settle on his father. Fabien was barely seven- non of this was his fault. I didn’t get a party when I became an omega. Why does Fabien get a stupid party? Just because the Gods made him an alpha?

He was especially angry that the party was forbidden to him, for some inexplicable reason that his father, Marcus, had come up with barely a few hours ago, and had not been given to Darius. It wasn’t like other Omegas wouldn’t be there. No, Dad’s just being stupid and weird.

“Not that he cares that everyone is going to be asking where I am tomorrow, and that Fabien is going to be hurt,” said Darius, to the empty room, in a furious mutter. Any other party he would have been grateful to skip. The quiet, secluded areas of the home were much preferred over the chaotic cacophony of mixed conversations that the party was certain to be. But Fabien would be upset and confused by Darius’ absence, and that wasn’t something he ever wanted.

With that in mind, and a bitter rebellion growing in the pit of his stomach, Darius decided the best course of action would be to find somewhere away from the absolute chaos taking place outside his door. So he shoved the spindle into his satchel, settling it carefully around the weaving cards and his half-finished tunic that the Spell-Thread was for, then exited his room. He wandered through the smaller, private area of his home until arriving at the atrium, where the majority of the guests were gathered.

Nervously, Darius wove through the throng of people, nodding and smiling at several cousins, several whom he barely knew, waving and shouting greetings at him while hurriedly looking for Fabien. Where is he? Did he fall asleep already? Damn it…

Pinching his nose, he stepped over a man who had passed out near the triclinium. In there, he could see Marcus chatting amiably with a tall, pale man a few years older than Darius. But to his sudden regret, Marcus saw him too. He crossed his arms carefully, doing his best to avoid smudging the moongrass paint on his arms. It was colored light green in the lit triclinium, covering his arms and face in swirling vines and birds. In the more shadowy areas of their home the paint would glow an eerie blue.

“Darius, come here,” said Marcus, waving Darius over. He smiled, but it was pinched. “This is Lothar Berger, Senator Lyceas Berger’s second oldest child.”

Lothar's eyes caught Darius and he stopped. They were blue, like the glaciers that stretched over Bantine's wings, feeding her ice cold rivers. He felt his lungs seize, like he had just plunged into one, but instead of freezing, Darius’ face burned as his cheeks flushed red from blood quickening under his skin. Lothar was handsome. Stunningly so.

“Third,” said Lothar, easily. He panted slightly as he spoke, as if he’d just been dancing. Small beads of sweat dripped down his temple, and his richly dyed silk tunic looked disheveled. “Technically my sister is seven minutes older than me. But don’t let her know I admitted that- she’d never let me live it down. Ava never ceases to make it sound like she was walking and talking by the time I was born, instead of screaming and shitting herself.”

“What brings you here?” said Marcus, the pinched and cordial expression tightening the more Lothar talked. “I’ve never had the honor of hosting a patrician before. And now I get to host three in one night!”

“Yes, well, I need a painter for the walls inside my ship,” said Lothar, not taking his eyes off of Darius as he spoke, save for a microscopic flicker of confusion in his eyes. He grinned, then pulled his fingers through his long, thick, black hair, which made Darius think of a horse’s mane with the way it frizzed at the ends. Then he finally looked at Marcus, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I saw the new murals at the bar several streets down this afternoon, and the owner told me you did them. I guess they had to rebuild a few walls after an earthquake last year? I gotta say- they’re fantastic. I want you painting our ships.”

“And there will be more work to come,” said a tall man standing near Darius; his uncle, named Menon.

Darius gaped, surprised to see his uncle. Menon was like a ghost story to him most days. Albino, with one eye and half a nose, he was a paranoid and neurotic recluse who, as far as Darius knew, rarely ventured outside the walls of his home. What the man did for work, Darius wasn’t certain, though he believed taxes were involved. It would probably explain how he got disfigured. People don’t like taxes. Someone probably just got pissed off and took it out on him.

“We've had at least three earthquakes this week. Everyone is leaving the city, saying that Bantine's about to blow her top. I’m planning to leave in just a few days here, once I’ve taken care of a few… Ah… important documents. I would have left by now, but I didn’t want to leave without my sister and her children.”

Marcus scoffed, “Everyone is getting worked up over nothing. If the dragon was going to wake up, she'd have done it by now. Chutwater has always had earthquakes. They’re nothing new,”

Lothar didn’t look convinced. Alarm flashed over his face and he stood back on his heels uneasily. “Three? In the last week? Like, earthquakes you can feel? Or the little ones you can only pick up with a seismograph? ‘Cause the little ones happen all the fucking time. But the bigger ones aren’t as common,”

“The ones you feel,” said Darius, frowning. But he pushed away the anxiety brewing inside him It’ll be fine. Dad’s not worried.

“...Right,” said Lothar, slowly. He shrugged, the smiled and gave Marcus a short nod. “Well, good to know. I’m leaving by tomorrow evening, so I guess I’ll just… enjoy the calm while it lasts,”

Menon smiled, though because he only had half a nose, it gave off the feeling of a skeleton that had just heard a funny joke. “You might even get a bit of a ride while you’re in town, with how often the quakes have been coming.”

Marcus laughed, waving his hand at Menon, hushing him. “I’m flattered, but I’m a painter! I know nothing about ship building.”

“Oh, you don’t have to build them. This is for decoration, of course. The ships are built. We’re refurnishing them now. Though father’s tastes are… questionable at best. Depraved and disgusting at worst. The solarium in particular,” said Lothar, spitting a cherry pit into a bowl on the floor, shuddering in revulsion. “Emmory! Bring me another glass of wine!”

A boy about Darius’ age, with wild hair that was a shocking shade of red groaned. He was huddled in the corner with several pots of moongrass, rubbing his temple, and looked to be in pain. He was wearing green silk, which looked as expensive, if not more so than the clothes Lothar was wearing, which made Darius think ‘Emmory’ was one of Lothar’s relatives. From the cut of his tunic, Darius was surprised to see that he was an omega.

“I’m not your servant. Get it yourself, asshole,”

“Ugh, just do it, stupid,”

“Why should I?”

“Because I’m older. Now just do, would you?”

“You didn’t say the magic word,”

“Fine- Emmory, would you please be so kind as to get me some more fucking wine,” said Lothar, dispassionately.

Emmory rolled his eyes, not moving from his position. He inspected the back of his hand. “Hmph. That nice and all, but it’s not the magic word,”

“Are you five years old-?”

“Are you a lazy dick-?”

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“Emmy, please,”

“Darius, I told you to stay in your room,” hissed Marcus, in a low tone as Emmory smirked and filled Lothar’s wine, finally swayed. “A party is no place for an omega. Especially this one. Go back to your room and do something to entertain yourself,”

“Why? You’ve let me be at parties before. Forced me to be at parties before. And besides- it’s too loud. I can’t can’t focus on anything. Even in my room. All I was doing was going up to the garden roof. No one else will be up there.”

“Fine,” hissed Marcus, letting go of his painful grip on Darius’ arm. “I had Irini take Fabien up there. But stay away from Senator Alard. I mean it. I don’t like the rumors I’ve heard about him.”

“When can we leave? My head hurts,” said Emmory, in a complaining tone as he passed Lothar a glass of wine.

“When the party is over. Just loosen up and have some fun- it might help.” Lothar took the glass, rolling his eyes, then continued talking to Marcus. “You’d have to move to Berger’s Landing for a time, of course. But you’d be well compensated. I’ll secure you housing, and ensure everything is taken care of here, as well.”

Emmory glowered, then stomped his foot as he turned to let out a huff. Darius approached slowly, trying not to trip over the numerous guests sprawled over couches or dancing to the loud music. An unhappy guest. Perfect. Feeling his father’s tight grip on his arm, Darius saw the opportunity and wasn’t going to pass it up.

“Dad, I could take him up to the roof with me. By Etris’ altar. It’ll be quiet up there.”

Instantly, Darius felt Marcus’ grip loosen, and saw a muscle in his jaw relax. Is Lothar and Emmory being here making that anxious? Wait… Didn’t he say they were patricians?

Twenty-six families, in total equaling a few thousand civilians, the patricians were the ruling class of Fairghe Ora. Having their favor might lead to greatness for a person, but that could just as easily lead to their ruin should the relationship turn south. Wise people learned to stay far away from dealings with Fairghe Ora’s elite.

“Gods, yes,” muttered Emmory, in an exhausted way.

“I’m sorry for my brother’s constitution. He’s normally in a more talkative mood,” said Lothar, apologetically, “I figured he’d be able to entertain people with endless information about the various mating ritual flights of rocs,”

“No one wanted to listen,” said Emmory, his face sour. “Not even about dire rocs,”

“That’s because they went extinct twenty thousand years ago,” said Lothar, taking a long swig of his wine. His eyes stayed fixed on Marcus, suddenly darkening. “Say… I couldn’t help but overhear- Did you say that Senator Alard is here? At this random party for a newly awakened alpha?”

“Darius, get him some tea for his head, too,” said Marcus, patting Darius on the back apologetically. He nodded to Lothar, his chest puffing out with pride. “Yes. Heard about my slave, Sentia, and the skill she has with her flute- she’s warming up in the kitchen right now. He wanted to hear her play himself. Do you know him?”

“Oh, yes, I know him. My sister, Ava- Father let him marry her. Is he here now?” asked Lothar, sipping his wine, a steely glint in his eyes that promised only violence. “I should bring him a drink, what with him being family. Emmory, stay with Darius on the roof.”

“But I want to say hello- Ava might be here, too,” said Emmory, who was now looking much happier.

“She won’t be. From the letters she’s snuck out of their lovely villa, our dearest fath- excuse me, brother-in-law likes to keep her locked in the bed chambers.” said Lothar, with a cheery smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Forgive me. It’s so easy to get confused, what with the age difference,”

Lothar wrapped his arm around Marcus’ shoulder, who looked as if he’d rather be anywhere else on the planet. “He’s a very charming man, and a close friend of my father’s. Now, he might try to buy your slave from you; let me tell you all the reasons why you shouldn’t do that, starting with the fact that, like all of my father's friends, Senator Alard is a man who is deprived of any and all morals.”

Neither of them needing any further convincing, Emmory and Darius walked quickly out of the triclinium and into the packed hallway. Buy Sentia? But Darius didn’t spend time reflecting on the possibility. Sentia was both Fabien’s nurse and Marcus’ muse, and he knew that Marcus liked her too much to ever consider the possibility of selling her.

"I really wish he wouldn't bad-mouth Father in public like he does," said Emmory, crossing his arms moodily as they walked.

"Will he get in trouble?"

"Yes, and then I'll have to feel sorry for him when Father beats him," said Emmory, his odd green eyes shimmering wetly. He frowned, took a deep breath, then cleared his throat before saying. “Actually, forget I said anything. Why wouldn’t anybody be up on the roof?”

“Etris’ altar is up there,” said Darius, leading Emmory into the kitchen. When they found it swarming with guests, Emmory shook his head hard, shuddering.

“Etris?”

“Yeah,” Darius pointed at the violet moon as they stepped into the garden, floating in the sky next to Selene. “Etris,”

“Oh, that’s Artemis on Berger’s Landing.”

“Oh, here Etris is a the roc king,”

“Artemis has a roc she flies around on, and wraps herself and Selene in shadows to hide from the massive sea serpent who wants to eat them and the rest of the world,” said Emmory, in an excited, breathy way. “My nana says it has red eyes that glow like the fires of hell, and jumps out of the water to swallow entire ships whole,”

Darius took Emmory’s hand when he tripped on the steep, uneven steps of the narrow, sectioned off staircase that led to a small altar and another garden on the roof. Darius’ younger brother, Fabien, was already up there, curled up in a thick woolen quilt and snoring lightly. When Darius and Emmory approached, he sat up, his brown eyes wide and surprised. He grinned, displaying the open space where one of his top front milk teeth had been until just a few days ago.

“Dari?”

“Go back to sleep, Fab,” said Darius, sitting near Fabien on a pile of cushions and blankets that hid a crack in the floor from the massive earthquake last year. Several pots of moongrass gave the space a blue glow.

“Mmm,” Fabien settled back down, then went back to sleep. Within barely a minute he had begun snoring once again.

“Are you cold at all?” asked Darius, lighting and oil lamp near the altar, and pulling his spindle out of his satchel. He could feel the crack under the blankets, and remembered vividly how Fabien had screamed in laughter after the earthquake, requesting for it to happen again, and Marcus scolding him furiously. “There are some more blankets up here,”

“I’m fine,” said Emmory, pulling his dark green wool cloak close to him, then lying back to gaze into the black night sky. Etris shone heavy, blue, and full in the night, the moon’s light blocking out all but the brightest of the stars. Selene hung in the sky nearby, a pale silver sliver. If Darius squinted, he could see winding golden rivers on her dotted surface.

“Can I ask you something personal?”

“Sure,”

“Why is your hair red?” said Darius, hoping he wasn’t being rude.

“My hair?”

“I’ve never seen anyone with red hair before,”

“I dunno,” said Emmory, shrugging, “Mom has red hair. She comes from Rostithar, and Grandmother was from Achete Island. Mom says lots of people on Achete Island have red hair,” Emmory sent a huff of hair at his bangs, which were falling in front of his eyes, “Though… I suppose none of my siblings have red hair… And Lothar’s the only one with blue eyes- he got them from his mom- we have different mom’s. My mom is Dad’s third wife. Gaius and Ava both look like Dad,”

“Achete Island?”

“Yeah, it’s north of Ursus Island. They just joined Fairghe Ora,” Emmory squinted at Darius, “Can I ask you something personal?”

“Sure,”

“Why do you have purple eyes?”

“I got them from my mom, too,” said Darius, laughing a little. “She’s from Coppergift. She says a lot of people in Coppergift have purple eyes.”

“What’s the homework you have to do?”

“Master Caeso, my teacher, wants me to read a papyrus scroll on the history on Mt. Bantine,” said Darius, pointing to the massive shadow of the nearby volcano. “She’s Vatya’s daughter,”

“The sea goddess? Do you mean Aena?”

“No, Vatya,”

“Yeah, Asos’ daughter? That’s Aena,”

“Weird,”

“Yeah, I guess whoever founded Chutwater forgot her name,” said Emmory, snickering.

“Chutwater is older than Berger’s Landing,” Dariu moved nearer to the moongrass pots, then began working on his Spell-Thread. “Uncle Menon told me that. Which means Vatya must be her original name,”

“Hmph,” Emmory huffed, blowing his curly red bangs out of his face. He watched Darius closely, with slightly unnerving intensity. “You’re still saying her name wrong,”

Darius was about to respond and ask how Chutwater could possibly be saying Vatya’s name the wrong way if they were older, when from the corner of his eye he saw a figure move by the staircase behind them. Irini, his mother, held a tray containing bread, cheese, and a pot of tea. A pale pink veil was draped around head, giving her the picturesque air of a proper omega wife for a middle class plebeian family. Or it would have, had Irini’s cheeks not been flushed from too much wine, and the bright green pigment painted on the lids of her eyes been badly smudged. The kohl that lined her eyes was all but faded.

“Marcus told me you boys were up here,” said Irini, her words slurred, but light and playful. She was in a good mood, Darius noted, which was a rarity. It was infectious, and tension that he didn’t realize he was holding in his shoulders began to fade. “Are you three doing okay?” She turned to Emmory, pushing the teapot toward him, “I heard you had a headache. Do you like chamomile?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you,”

Irini giggled and her veil slipped off of her head. She let it stay where it landed, then giggled good naturedly again, “How are you three doing up here. Are you warm enough?”

“Yeah,” said Darius, nibbling at the bread, “When is the party going to be over?”

“Who knows. But it’s probably better that you’re up here. If I had known just how wild it was going to get, I’d have sent you and Fabien to your Uncle’s house for the night. But it's good that Menon came instead! I get so worried about him,” said Irini, sighing hugely. But a bright beam still lit up her face, “But guess what? Lothar just commissioned your father for a huge job in Berger’s Landing! Isn’t that exciting? I only hope I can somehow bring my grape vines- I remember Daddy planting them when I was Fabien’s age…”

“Oh…” Darius wasn’t sure how to respond when Irini pouted in the direction of the grape vines she was so proud of and tended obsessively, or if it needed one.

“I wish you could have met him, Dari. He would have absolutely adored you,” said Irini, wistfully, her eyes watery. Now Darius was certain she wanted comfort, like from a friend. He scooted closer, then squeezed her hand.

“If he gets distracted because of Senator Alard, I'll remind him,” said Emmory, with a huge sigh. He glared away from Darius and Irini. “He… doesn’t like him. Neither do I. You should probably avoid him, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, you’re so kind. I’ll be sure to steer clear- I’m done for the night, anyways,” said Irini, reaching over to pinch Emmory’s cheeks with another giggle. Then she left, humming quietly as she walked floatily away towards her garden.

“Did your mom really get that drunk off of one glass?” said Emmory, bewildered.

“Yeah… She usually drinks it watered down till it’s basically wine-flavored water, but when Dad throws a party…”

“Gaius is like that, too,” said Emmory, snorting loudly, “I’m less of a lightweight than he is.” He pulled a leather bag out of his tunic pocket, “Want to play some marbles?”

Darius set his spindle down, a flurry of excitement bubbling up inside. In the distance, he could hear Sentia playing her flute, as she so loved to do. Lothar spoke loudly, practically shouting his admiration. He could see Marcus fretting over Irini in her unveiled state, who was beaming as she pulled her husband into a dance. He relented, laughing and spinning her around by the flowering grapevines. Everyone else is having fun. Why shouldn’t I? Not that spinning isn’t fun… But fun with other people?

It was a rare occasion. Darius couldn’t, he wouldn’t, let it slip past him.

“Sure,”