“Do you know what that expression means, ‘the whole nine yards’?” Anla asked as she looked out the window of the carriage.

“Well, I know that in Arouk there used to be a rule about how close a person could get to the king. Commoners had to remain at least nine yards away, barons eight, et cetera, until you reach the very upper crust of the gentry, who could go the whole nine yards to the king. If you could do that, it meant you essentially had all the power and money you could ever want.”

“So, if I were to say the Crisholds went ‘the whole nine yards’ for this party, it would mean it was quite royal?”

Raulin moved next to her to look out the window. The Crishold estate was breathtaking, decked in lanterns that hung from the trees and swags of flowers on the stairway to the entrance. A string quartet played for the guests arriving, the gentlemen dressed in coats bedecked with buttons. That was just the front yard, not even inside the manor or in the ballroom. “I would say you hit the mark quite well.”

Of course, to Raulin it all paled in comparison to Anla. Her gown was a soft green poplin with dark bead work around the hem, almost as if she had stepped in a puddle of water for too long. The bodice mimicked the hem, the beads spraying out on her shoulders, twisting with gold and clear beads. Her gloves were a dark green, more space than material, that ended just above her elbows. The ember man had managed to get her hair to curl and it was piled under a dark green fascinator, a few tendrils spilling onto her shoulders. But really it was her that made the beauty, not the dress nor the styling. Her, her looks, her smile, and her grace.

The driver helped them down and they walked slowly to the entrance. Several groups were holding conversations near the lanterns, since it was already dark. There were a few people Marin Liasorn knew and he stopped to say hello and introduce Anla, who received a fair share of double takes when they noticed her ears.

Just before they entered the manor, Anla leaned in to speak lowly to Raulin. “Slight problem,” she said, waving and smiling at someone who nodded at them. “I saw Veri-Baron Asqui talking to some men by the bench over there. He was at Mount Kalista and might remember me as Olana.”

“We’ll try to avoid him. If not, then say it was a mix up and you didn’t have the heart to correct people. Keep your answers vague and brief.”

She tilted her head for a few moments. “You sound worried. Afraid of getting caught?”

“Over that, no.” He wiped his hands on his pants. “It dawned on me today that this is the first, uh, red contract I’ve had in four months. I’m feeling somewhat like my first time, though with a lot more dread.”

“You don’t want to do this?”

“Well, I never want to, I have to. I’ve just had a lot of time to reflect upon things and I think it’s making me feel so regretful that I’m hesitating.”

She placed her hand on his arm and rubbed it consolingly. “Last one,” she said lowly. “Maybe next round you can get out of doing any.”

“Unlikely, but the thought gives me comfort.”

They stood in line for a few more minutes until it was their turn for introductions to Mathen Crishold. He was a slight man with thinning hair that was almost blond, his pale blue eyes and skin hinting at strong Tondeivan ancestry. He smiled at them, but before he could say a word, Cavter Rimar blustered in. “This is the young couple I was speaking about, Mathen. This is Anladet Deerborn and Machin Liasorn, Count of…um…”

“Aubrige, in Arvonne,” he said, “though my friends and family call me ‘Marin’.”

“Oh, yes,” Cavter said, though he was watching Anla.

Raulin took the break in decorum in stride. “I’m here in Gheny collecting funds to take back the throne of Arvonne, though since this is a fundraiser for your cause, I’ll withhold from campaigning too hard. This is Anladet Auchindol of the Deerborn tribe. Her father was an Arvonnese doctor traveling in Ashven when he met her mother. I met her in New Wextif and we reacquainted in Acripla.” He broke his eye contact to give a warm smile to Anla, who returned it with a slight crinkle of her nose.

“Well, it is an honor to have you here, the both of you,” Mathen said. “I must say, I’ve never met someone half-elven that wears our fashions so spectacularly. You look radiant tonight, Miss Auchindol.”

“Thank you,” she said with a slight bow. “Quite honestly, I’ve lived the last five years of my life in Hanala and feel comfortable in Gheny, minus my security, of course.”

“Of course,” he said. “And I hope at some point we can eradicate that part of the Nui-Breckin Accord. It’s one of the Brotherhood’s top issues of concern.” His eyes flickered to the line. “Find me later. I’d love to chat about things.”

She gave a quick curtsy and Raulin led her away, aware that Cavter was looking for an excuse to cut in. “You should go speak with him,” he suggested, nodding towards the man. “He did get us in here after all. It’ll give me a chance to survey.”

“I’ll see you shortly.”

Unlike the Kilden manor of Acripla, the Crishold mansion had all the lavish rooms up front. The ball room was to the left of the foyer, the dining room to the right, and all the parlors, dens, lounges, conservatories, and rooms of entertainment were behind them. He snuck up a side staircase and would have explored more, but he heard children playing and being tutored in that wing.

When he returned to the dining room he noticed light fare had been laid out on the long table with not one but three celery stalk vases. He slurped a few oysters before piling two tea sandwiches for Anla, who seemed grateful he was interrupting whatever Cavter was still talking about.

“Riveting conversation?” he asked.

She gave him a wry smile and nibbled on the sandwich. “It’s strange how a man can be genuinely interesting in helping you, but at the same time so insulting and somewhat boorish. I get that he actually means well, but asked a lot of personal questions with a rude bend.”

“Such as?”

“Oh, like did my father find my mother to be difficult to handle.”

Raulin tried to contain his laughter with the back of his hand. “Hmm. Well, did he?”

She gave him a flat look before continuing. “I know he’s approaching it in some sort of anthropological way, but it’s my parents he’s speaking of! And my parents figured it out is the best way I can describe their relationship. My father never expected my mother to be some Ghenian lady, but there were some customs he didn’t like. We may have been the only children in the village to have never seen their mother half-naked, for instance.”

“Yes, I noticed that clothing is a lot more optional among your people.”

“They’re also a lot looser with copulating outside of relationships. So long as their interests aren’t related to them and neither are married, they tumble with whomever they like.”

“That I didn’t notice.”

“That’s because I asked them to leave you alone.”

“Protecting us menfolk. That was kind of you.”

She crossed her arms and looked at some of the other people arriving. “No, it was just you. You didn’t notice Sakilei missing our first night? I know some women approached me about Al, but I said they were welcome to try, but that they might not get anywhere. And to think of what happened in Quirr with Mian! I would have never guessed he…”

“Hold for a moment. Why did you ask them to leave me alone but not Al or Sakilei?”

“Well, I…don’t know.” Though she still looked at the crowd and not him, he could tell she appeared a bit sheepish at the words. “I felt it wouldn’t be good.”

“Wouldn’t be good for whom?”

“Us,” she said.

He wanted to grab her arms and hold her until she admitted she had done it because she had been jealous, but he let it go. He was pleased enough by the suggestion of it. Perhaps it meant she was feeling something more strongly than friendship, though he tried not to get his hopes up.

“At least the time with Cavter hadn’t been a total waste,” she said, changing the subject. “He had some interesting tidbits of information about certain people.”

“I think they call that ‘gossip’. What did you hear?”

“Oh, this lady is having an affair with that man, but her husband doesn’t know it. That man’s business is ruined. And Mathen Crishold has a taste for elven women.”

Raulin’s eyebrows arched for a moment. He thought about using her as bait, to lure him to a secluded spot, but he didn’t recall Crishold giving Anla the same hungry look that Cavter had been giving her. “A taste?”

“Well, perhaps the whole meal, then. Crishold apparently had an affair with a Springleaf woman who lived in Cataya for some time. He came home one day with a little babe and adopted him. That sparked his interest in elven-human relations, and he’s been involved in the Liyand Brotherhood since. He’s apparently saved a few mixed children from the streets or auctions, adopting some half dozen or so.”

“And how did his wife feel about that?”

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“I was told that she visits her sister during these balls and won’t have anything to do with the Brotherhood. Crishold’s eldest son is theirs, so her child is the one who’ll inherit, but I suppose having proof of your husband’s goings-on in your face daily isn’t going to make you feel warm to him.”

“Understandable. Anything else?”

“No, but the night is young.” She looked at the clock on the wall. “When will the dancing start?”

“Eleven, maybe. After the first course is served.”

“How long will this go on for?”

“Sometimes past dawn. That’s all up to how interesting the ball is. I doubt this one will last that long.”

He took her hand and led her to the dining room where they split and began to speak to other people. They checked in with each other every half hour or so, to compare notes, but no one had any convenient pieces of information that might help to lure Crishold away for a few moments.

A dinner was served with plates of food being handed to guests by servants. Only officers of the Brotherhood had seats at the table; the rest of the guests found chairs, couches, and stools to sit on while eating rabbit stew.

At the end of dinner, just as another set of musicians was setting up in the ballroom, Crishold announced his children. Five boys and two girls, aged between five and seventeen, came down the stairway. The guests politely clapped as Crishold gave a short speech.

Raulin was politely watching when he turned to see what Anla thought. The ember man must not have used any cosmetics on her skin, since he could tell how pale she was. Her eyes were wide and her brow furrowed, all pleasantness gone from her expression. “Anla?” he asked.

She finally tore her eyes away from Crishold and looked at Raulin. “I…I need to get some air,” she said.

“Do you want me to go with you?” he asked, but she had already slipped through the crowd. He turned back to Crishold and tried to figure out what had upset her.

The speech ended and the dancing began. Raulin took to the floor for several turns until his worry outgrew his sense of propriety. He found Anla leaning against a tree not far from the house.

“Are you all right? You seem perturbed.”

“I’m actually not feeling well. Do you think we could go back to the hotel?”

Raulin pressed his lips together. “I won’t get another opportunity like this for three months, pushing me out of my last three contracts as well. I have to do this, tonight. Maybe we could ask a servant if there’s a quiet room for you to lie down in.”

She hesitated before asking, “Don’t you want to go to our room?”

“Yes,” he said, taking off his coat.

“You said you didn’t want to kill Crishold. We can leave and you won’t have to.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt and rolling up his left sleeve. “I don’t want to kill anyone. I just want to go back and relax.”

Stepping closer to him, she said, “Who knows what the night will bring?”

He breathed in, her perfume filling his mind. She was wearing Biashka, the scent he had given her long ago, and he was flooded with memories of home. It was comfort and love and warmth mixed with hopeful lust as her suggestion. She was right; he didn’t want to kill anyone. He’d had a great evening and it was time to go home, to crawl under the covers, to hold her, maybe more. He smiled. “I think you have a good idea, mezzem.”

“Let’s go then,” she said, slipping under his arms and hugging him. She pressed her face into his chest. Everything was so incredibly wonderful in that moment that it was a bother that something felt off. It reminded him of being comfortable under his blankets, only to realize he had rolled in the night and a rock was stabbing him in the ribs. What was it?

He was about to pull her in close when he realized there was pain. He looked down at his arm. Even in the poor light from a nearby lamp, he saw furious marks across his forearm deep enough to draw beads of blood. His hand continued to rake across his skin until he fought the urge with every ounce of his will. He stepped away from her. “How could you?”

She looked at him, then his arm. “I…I’m sorry.”

“Take it off. Now.”

“I don’t know how. Um…Wouldn’t it be good to feel normal?”

The warm, comfortable fog burned off and the pain across his arm singed. “I’m going to forgo being angry with you if you explain why you did that.”

“My brother…” she whispered.

“Garlin? Someone told you what happened to him?”

She shook her head then turned to look at the manor.

“He’s in there? He’s…been adopted by Crishold.”

She nodded.

“Anla, we can take him with us. I know the road isn’t the best place for him, and I won’t be a great influence, but we’ll make it work.”

“No,” she said, anguished. “I don’t want to take him. I can’t do better than this! He’s rich, well-cared for, a roof over his head, a tutor. He has a family now. I can’t take him from what I always wished for him.”

“Anla, he needs to be with his sister. We’ll go talk with Crishold, explain the situation. I’m sure he’d understand…”

“No!” She blinked rapidly, using her index finger to wipe away a tear. “I can’t do that to him. It’s been five years. He’s spent half of his life with Crishold being raised like a beloved son. I can’t take that from him…and you can’t kill Crishold.”

“Anla…”

“Please, Raulin. I’ve never asked anything from you. I have traveled everywhere you needed to go. I’ve helped you complete contracts. I’ve saved you. I’m asking for one thing…”

“No. Ask me for something I can give you and I will. You want all my money? Fine. You want my knives? I can say I lost them. I cannot give this to you. Either Crishold dies or I do.”

“Please…”

“We’ll save him, I promise you. We’ll stay and figure out what’s going to happen to Crishold’s children. And if something does, we’ll take him and bring him with us or find a place for him. He’ll be safe.”

“You promise?”

“I do. Whatever I can do to help you and your brother, I will.”

“All right,” she said quietly. “What do we need to do?”

It was a few hours later, after Anla had plastered on a smile and danced with what felt like a score of men, that she managed to gain Crishold’s time. He held her hand out as he brought her to the floor and took hold of her waist. “Ah, the belle of this ball,” he said.

“You flatter me,” she said.

“Not at all. I’ve been waiting for you to be free. Seems every man here wants to dance with you, especially my man Cavren. I had to chastise him for taking too much of your time.”

“He is a good conversationalist,” she said as the band struck up the next tune, thankfully a waltz.

“Are we speaking of the same man?” He gave her a mischievous smile as they began to twirl.

“The one who speaks about elven culture as if it was something to be poked and prodded?”

“Yes, that’s the one. I hope he hasn’t been too offensive.”

“Not at all. I can see his intentions lie in the realm of interest and not vulgarity.”

“Thank you for your understanding. Now, slake my curiosity, how did an extraordinary young lady like yourself make her way to Cataya from Ashven?”

“It’s a long, tragic story.”

“I’m sure it is.”

“If you’re interested, I’d tell it to you, but I fear I get quite emotional over my past. I’d rather not speak of it in front of so many people.”

“Oh, I’m quite interested,” he said. As an afterthought, he added, “And of course we could go some place quieter to speak.”

“I’d appreciate that,” she said.

They continued the dance until at seemingly long last the song finished. Crishold walked her off the floor and escorted her back to the foyer and up the grand staircase. They walked past several doors that were closed. “My children’s rooms,” he said.

“You have quite a few,” she said, slowing her steps.

“I do what I can. I’m a wealthy man who can afford to take in children who might suffer terrible fates otherwise. Are you familiar with the Nui-Breckin Alliance?”

She nodded. “They captured me once and they killed my sister.”

“I’m so sorry about your sister. How did you escape?”

“I was traveling with friends. They rescued me and in turn we freed their baerd. He’s living with my tribe now.”

“That’s a kind thing to do.”

Anla stopped and he turned, giving her a curious look. She reached out and touched one of the doors. “Which one is Garlin?”

“Garlin? He’s the next door…how did you know I had a son named Garlin?”

“I recognized him immediately.” She opened the next door quietly and walked in, stopping next to his bed. The light from the sconces cut a bar of light over his head. He murmured in his sleep and turned. She sat gently on the edge of his bed.

“Your brother?”

She nodded. “Is he a good boy? Is he well-behaved and takes to his lessons?”

“He’s very smart, good at geography and languages. He speaks Arvonnese fluently…your father?” She nodded. “He has a bit of a mischievous streak and he likes to sneak sweets when he should be sleeping, but he is a good boy. Quite the imagination. He often talks of a tower with wizards and a tiny underwater world with crabs and starfish and schools of fish.”

Her throat burned as she thought of that final vacation in Analussia. Her breath caught and her eyes blurred with tears. She stood, kissed his head, and left.

“He won’t say what happened to his parents or his family,” he said, ushering her into an empty den. “One of my colleagues was in Hanala and happened to see a half-elven boy playing on the streets. He knows I look out for children like that, so he brought him back here. I didn’t know he had family still alive.”

“My father felt it was important to teach us about the world outside the Dreelands. He would take our family on vacations once each year. We were instructed to call him Martin and pretend he was our guard. We were in Analussia when my parents were caught, tried, and hanged. We walked north to Hanala, where it would be easier to blend in. We lived on the street, in an abandoned building in Yue Begule with other street kids. One by one my family disappeared. Sildet was first; I found out recently that she was killed. Garlin second. Raidet was the last; she left me to marry a Pilgrim and I found her traveling with them.”

“You were right; that is a tragedy. No one deserves a history like that.” He looked down for a moment, then back up. “So, where does this leave us? Have you come for your brother?”

Anla was about to speak when he lurched forward slightly, a confused look crossing his face. She hadn’t seen Raulin cross the dark room and stab Crishold from behind. He blinked a few times. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

Raulin held his finger to his lips, then pulled the knife out from Crishold’s back. She looked away as the trirec slit his throat, the gurgling noises of a man’s last breath bad enough to hear without seeing it, too. “Like I said,” Raulin said before disappearing.

She didn’t need to fake the tears that were in her eyes. She did, however, need to feign her distress. She opened the door and moved to the hallway until she found a servant running between wings. “I need help,” she said, grabbing his lapels. “Mr. Crishold has been killed.”

He looked at her as if she had been drinking too much, but she pulled him to the room. The young man swore and ran while she sank to the ground, waiting.

It wasn’t long before voices grew louder and a familiar voice spoke. There was a hand on her arm, tugging her up. Cavren was close to her face, asking her what happened, but she pretended to be too dazed to speak. He walked her to the hallway as a uniformed constable took her aside.

“What happened here?”

“She was speaking with Crishold when he was killed,” Cavren said.

“Why? What were you speaking of?”

“My brother,” she whispered and was asked to repeat herself louder.

“Why your brother?”

“He adopted him some time ago and I was asking after his well being.”

“That seems awfully suspicious,” the constable said. “It would make sense that you came here tonight to kill Mr. Crishold in order to take your brother back.”

“I didn’t know he was here before tonight.”

“I can vouch for her,” Cavren said. “I was the one who invited her and it was in happenstance.”

The constable nodded, apparently knowledgeable about the relationship between Cavren and Crishold. “Can you tell me what the man looked like?”

“Dark haired, dark eyed. He had whiskers on his face across his upper lip to his ears.”

“Muttonchops,” the constable muttered. “Anything else? Clothing? Scars? Teeth?”

She continued giving a plausible description of a nonexistent man, then did her best to pretend to be faint from the exhaustion. The constable took her hotel room down and told her not to leave town. She was escorted to a carriage by Raulin, who looked worried for her until they were a block away from the manor.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said.

“I’ve seen you kill before.”

“You saw me kill a crazed man who was coming after you. That was justified. You’ve never seen me kill in cold blood before.”

The events had worn her emotions thin, so she spoke without mirth or passion. “Does it matter?”

“It matters to me.” He held her hand. “I’ve given you enough reasons to think poorly of me.”

“I don’t. Plenty of men have terrible jobs. Not all regret them.”

He looked into her eyes. “What do you think of me?”

She touched her temple with her fingers and sighed. “I don’t know, Raulin.”

“It’s been a long night,” he finally said.

“Yes.”

“We have a busy day ahead of us.” He squeezed her hand again. “Don’t worry, Anla. We’ll get Garlin.”

She gave him a weak smile and sat back, thinking of nothing but being together with her brother again.