Chapter Nine

Vincen

Vincen had never realized how much the doors at the palace had in common with the doors at the Mage’s Academy. They were both made of thick, heavy wood that was older than the empire itself. They were both covered in ornate decorations depicting scenes from long-forgotten stories, both were covered with runes whose functions had been forgotten ages ago, and they both did an excellent job of hiding what was behind them.

“Staring at the doors will not make Lady Alba arrive any sooner, my Lord,” Kelso said from where he was standing with his back to the far wall, along with Alexander and Lady Caterina’s lady’s maid.

“Your valet is right,” said Prince Andreu. “Though it is inappropriate for a valet to shout at his master from across the room.”

Kelso bowed. “Apologies, my Prince.”

Prince Andreu was sitting next to Lady Caterina on a sofa in the center of the cozy room. He wore the white suit and red sash of the high nobility. His jacket had several medals pinned above the left breast and the stiff, high collar was buttoned closed at the neck. His pants had sharp creases and his black boots were polished to a mirror shine. His black hair was combed straight back and glistening. Vincen’s outfit was similar, though he had no medals pinned to his jacket and his mage’s medallion hung from a red satin ribbon around his neck. He was just as uncomfortable in the suit as he had been at his graduation, whereas his father looked completely at ease in his.

“Come sit down, Vincen,” Lady Caterina said, patting the sofa next to her. Her gown was also white with elbow-length white lace gloves. She once again shunned the large puffy skirts that were so popular at the moment in favor of a more practical and simple pleated design that allowed enough room on the sofa for Vincen to sit beside her and probably made walking much easier. A single red flower was tucked into the braided bun at the back of her head and curled ringlets of hair framed each side of her sharp and narrow face. Vincen thought she was the very picture of restrained elegance. He sat beside his stepmother and fidgeted about, trying to get comfortable. His suit was so stiff that he was sure he heard it cracking in a few places as he sat down. “Don’t fidget, dear. It’s unbecoming of a duke and will wrinkle your suit.”

“I’m not a duke yet, Mother,” he said as he adjusted his jacket, the collar of which was trying to push into his throat and choke him.

“No you are not,” said Prince Andreu. “You are merely the son of a prince, cousin to the next King, and the highest-profile mage in generations. Your mother is right. You must act in a manner befitting your station, else no one will accept you when it’s official.”

“I know,” Vincen said. “It’s all I’ve been hearing about since graduation.” His father frowned but thankfully said nothing more. The past month had been full of hours-long sessions with his tutors as his father tried to make up for ten years of missed opportunities to torture his son. Vincen glanced at the door again.

“Don’t worry,” said Caterina with a gentle smile. “She’ll be here soon.”

“I just wish we’d had more time together before tonight,” Vincen said.

“Be glad you’ve had as much time as you have,” said Caterina. “Your father and I barely even knew each other’s names before our announcement ceremony.”

“Truly?” Vincen asked, shocked. How had he never known that before?

“Indeed,” said his father. “I had met your grandfather many times, of course, but had never seen your mother before the day of the announcement. Such is the way for many unions.”

“Besides, dear,” said Caterina reassuringly. “Today is not your wedding day, you will have time to get to know each other better before then.”

“That’s not –” Vincen began to say but was interrupted by a knock at the door. Alexander swiftly crossed the room and opened it, speaking briefly with the attendant on the other side.

Alexander closed the door and turned. “Marquess Lequette has arrived with Lady Alba, my Prince.”

“Excellent,” said Prince Andreu, standing up. “Now we can get this evening on with.”

Vincen stood as Alexander turned and opened the doors wide before stepping off to the side. The Marquess strode into the room, closely followed by his wife and Alba. The Marquess was dressed similarly to Prince Andreu and Vincen with a stiff white suit, red sash, and medals adorning the high-collared jacket, an ornate sword strapped to his side. His close-trimmed beard and black hair were well-oiled and perfectly combed so that no hair was out of place. His wife wore a fashionable gown of white with plenty of lace and frills, a low neckline, and a large hoop skirt. Her hair was done in much the same style as Lady Caterina’s, though Vincen didn’t feel it suited her features as well as his stepmother's.

Alba’s attire surprised Vincen. She wore a traditional Marisetti dress that had a white top and a black skirt. Intricate flowers were embroidered into the ruffles that draped around her neck and shoulders while the rest of the top was simple and unadorned, save for her golden Mage’s brooch. A red sash was tied around her waist, the ends of the ribbon hanging down her right side and ending halfway down the skirt. The skirt had red and white lines embroidered around it horizontally at varying intervals. It was pleated all around and looked quite large but so loose and free that it didn’t seem to hinder her movement at all. Instead, it flowed about her, making it seem like she was floating as she moved. Her hair fell about her shoulders, half of it pulled back in two small braids that started on each side of her head and met in the middle. A large, red flower was pinned behind her left ear.

Alba was going to be the most closely-watched woman of the evening, at least during the official ceremony, and Vincen wondered what her mother had to say about her choice of outfits. It was unusual to see someone wearing clothing that so openly celebrated their nation's native heritage, particularly in the Capital. He could imagine some of the nobility interpreting it as a political statement of some kind, though Vincen knew Alba well enough to know otherwise.

“Anton,” said Prince Andreu with a smile. “You are looking especially sharp today.”

“My Prince,” said the Marquess with a bow.

“Come now. We are to be family soon, no need to be so formal when it is just us. Come in and have a seat.”

Vincen’s father led the Marquess to the sofas with Lady Lequette following behind, looking tired but not as sorrowful as when Vincen had last seen her a month ago. Alba stepped forward and paused in front of Vincen, smiling.

“You look rather handsome today, Vincen. You’ve grown into that suit a bit, I think.”

“Thank you,” he replied, trying not to stare at her. “You look amazing. I’ve never seen you in the Marisetti style before. It’s beautiful.”

She blushed and turned her eyes down, brushing back a few strands of hair. Somehow even that simple action was breathtaking and his heart skipped a few beats. He turned his eyes towards the center of the room, where their parents were already seated and talking between themselves. Marie and the other retainers were still waiting outside the doors. “Let’s go in,” he said, offering her his arm. She took it graciously and he led her into the room. Alexander held the doors as the rest of the Marquess’ retinue filed in behind them.

“How have you been doing?” he asked as he led her to an armchair a little ways apart from the sofas their parents had inhabited. He held her hand as she sat daintily near the edge of the chair, her back straight and not resting against the backrest. He pulled his own seat a little closer and sat down next to her.

“Well enough, I suppose,” she said. “We have been quite busy preparing for tonight, and father had some guests staying with us, so it has not been as restful a time as I hoped it would be. Still, it was good to be home. I had missed it more than I knew. How about you? Were you able to rest at all?”

Vincen chuckled and shook his head. “Not in the slightest. Father’s made sure that my every waking moment has been spent either making up for lost time with my noble training or in penance for messing up on graduation night. The repercussions seem to have been less than he had feared, in large part because of Aarmond’s public statements claiming that he had asked me to do what I did, but it still hasn’t been fun. You seem to have come out of it a hero though since it looked like you were trying to help Aarmond. I think Mother had something to do with encouraging that viewpoint.” He shook his head, feeling the need to once again apologize. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have forced you into action. Even Ona told me the whole thing was a bad idea.” He stopped and looked around. “Where is she, anyway?”

Alba hesitated before speaking. She looked worried, which gave Vincen a knot in his stomach. “We… had a bit of a fight,” she said. “I got into an argument with Mother and Father. They learned about my martial arts training and were rather… unenthusiastic about it, as you can imagine.” Vincen chuckled. He could almost picture the look on Lady Lequette’s face when she found out. In the past, Ona had spent a lot of time ranting about her mother’s traditional and old-fashioned values. “Anyway,” Alba continued. “It started because of that but quickly got out of hand. I… kind of said some things I shouldn’t have — about Ona’s death and — and such. I didn’t know she was in the room and she heard the whole thing.” She shook her head and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “The only time I’ve seen her since was a few days ago when we were both needed to modify the wards in the ballroom. It only took a few minutes and then she was gone again without saying a single word.” She looked up at him and smiled sadly. “I guess you’re not the only one who can mess things up, huh?”

“But, how can she avoid you?” Vincen asked. “I mean – you’re bound to each other. There’s limits to where she can go, aren’t there? She has to be here somewhere.”

“She’s a shade, Vincen. Hiding’s not that hard for her, even with the Bond.”

“I guess it wouldn’t be,” murmured Vincen. If a shade didn’t want to be seen it was nearly impossible to find them. For all he knew she could be hiding in the floor right beneath their feet. He looked about the room, feeling the sense of unease that all non-twins must have felt whenever they learned a shade was around.

“Alba, Mijita,” said Lady Lequette. Their parents had all stood. “The King is waiting for us.”

Alba and Vincen stood. “I’m sure she’ll show up at some point,” Alba said. “She wouldn’t miss tonight for anything.”

“I hope not,” said Vincen as Kelso stepped forward.

“I’ll see you in there,” said Alba, then she smiled at Kelso. “It’s good to see you again, Kelso.”

Kelso bowed. “And you as well, my Lady.”

Alba smiled again and let Marie lead her away along with the other women, including Lady Caterina. When Alexander had closed the doors and only the men were left in the room Kelso and the other valets got busy fussing over their lord’s outfits, making small adjustments and smoothing out wrinkles. When Kelso was satisfied with Vincen’s appearance he retrieved the ceremonial sword from the corner of the room where their supplies had been stacked and began strapping it to Vincen’s waist. Only the palace guard, the Royal family, and those marked as the King’s friends were allowed to enter his presence openly armed. The swords were more for decoration than anything else, but they were still functional, though Vincen preferred his practice blade for actual use. His ceremonial sword was too heavy and balanced differently.

“Lord Mage Vincen,” said Marquess Lequette as his valet brushed some unseen lint from his shoulders.

“Yes, Marquess Lequette?”

“I admit that I have had some concerns about this engagement.”

“Sir?” Vincen asked, not sure what else to say to that. His father watched silently from the side.

“You have always impressed me as someone with very little ambition – content to let others choose your life for you. These are not good qualities for a future duke, and not what I want for my daughter’s husband. Even back when you were betrothed to Ona I had my concerns over your suitability to marry her. After your… misjudgment at the graduation ceremony, I was ready to call the whole thing off. How could someone in your position – the son of a prince and future duke of the largest province in Albaron show such poor judgment and so little regard for his fiance’s dignity?” His valet stepped back and the Marquess shook his arms a bit before stepping up to Vincen and looking him in the eye. He stood an inch or two taller than Vincen, something he had never realized until that moment. “I was furious. Your father and I argued long into the night and he eventually led me to see past your weakness and to what you can be. What you will be. I am glad he did. I know how much you and Ona cared for each other. You would have been a good match.” He chuckled. “And endless trouble for the Empire, I’m sure.” He took a deep breath. “Thank you for trying to protect Alba’s honor after your misstep. I heard that you spent more time defending her than you did making excuses for yourself. How we handle our mistakes says a great deal about a man. I’m sure you will be a fine one – someday.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Vincen, trying to ignore that last comment. “Alba’s friendship over the years has meant more to me than anything, especially after Ona’s death. I would never intentionally cause her any pain.”

Marquess Lequette smiled grimly and looked thoughtful for a moment. “The Master knows she’s had enough of that already.” He looked at Vincen for a moment then placed a hand on his shoulder. “I can’t imagine it’s been easy for you either, mijo. We’ve all been caught up in our own grief, but you have suffered in all this as well. I don’t know if I envy you and Alba or pity you. Either way, you are mages and share a common burden. Please watch over my girls. Especially Ona.”

“I will, sir,” said Vincen. He desperately wanted to ask the Marquess about what happened between Alba and Ona but couldn’t come up with the right words. He didn’t want to pry into their family’s private affairs, yet at the same time he felt that they were his affairs too. Alba and Ona were as much family to him as anyone could be. More so, in many ways.

A bell on the wall jingled and Alexander nodded. “It is time, my Lords,” he said.

Vincen took a deep breath and steadied himself. He didn't know why he was so nervous. This ceremony was only a formality. He and Alba had been more or less officially engaged for the last two years, yet somehow, it hadn’t seemed real. After today there would be no going back. He had hoped for a chance to see Ona before the ceremony began. Part of him had wanted her to come to see him after Alba left, though he knew she would never enter a room where men were being tended to, even if most of them wouldn’t know she was there. Still, he was surprised at how disappointed he was that she hadn’t.

Alexander opened the doors for them and they filed out into the hall with Prince Andreu in the lead and the valets taking up the rear. Vincen kept his eyes open for Ona as they walked but still he couldn’t find her. She loved parties, she should have been bubbling over with excitement right now, flying about eagerly and telling him and Alba to hurry up.

The ballroom was only a short distance from their waiting room and they met the women at the doors. Four halberdiers were standing guard and they bowed as their group approached. One of them opened the doors while Lady Caterina took her place next to Prince Andreu and Marquess Lequette’s family joined him. The sounds of music and conversation greeted Vincen’s ears. It was short-lived, however, as the room quickly fell silent.

About fifty noble families were present that night. Their attendants added to their numbers but the crowd was still smaller than it had been at Vincen’s graduation. Despite that, the grandeur of the royal ballroom and those gathered in it made the banquet hall at the Mage’s Academy seem like a country barn dance in comparison. Gold filigree glittered on every available surface and the domed ceiling climbed to twice the height of the Academy’s hall. Albaron’s crimson standard hung from the white marble walls at regular intervals, the golden phoenix flying proudly. The gathered nobility was dressed in their finest, most of the men wearing similar outfits to Vincen and his father, while the women wore fine dresses of gray or white, with the occasional light blue gown here or there. Attendants in various livery, usually matching the traditional colors of their families standards, wove their way gracefully through the crowd, seeing to their master’s needs. Despite the flurry of color, Alba’s dress stood in sharp contrast to everyone else’s, making her impossible to miss.

A raised dais sat at the far end of the hall where King Oriol sat with his family, surrounded by several halberdiers who held their halberds at the ready, eyes constantly scanning the crowd. Half a dozen more guards stood against the back wall, rifles resting at their sides. The King wore the same white suit as all the other noblemen, except that his red sash was trimmed with gold and he had far more medals on his jacket than anyone else. A thin band of finely engraved gold circled his brow. Queen Zhulietta was seated to his left, looking resplendent in a gown of white trimmed with gold. A fine necklace of silver and diamonds adorned her pale white neck and a jeweled tiara sparkled in her blonde hair. Prince Domenic sat at the King’s right side along with Galeta while Aarmond sat to his mother’s left. Vincen smiled at the sight of Aarmond, glad to know he had one sure ally in the room.

Much like the banquet hall at the Academy, a balcony circled the room on three sides, stopping at the back wall so as not to cover the king’s dais. Staircases on either side of the room led up to the balcony, where a small orchestra was set up to provide the evening’s music. One or two mages with Skills similar to Alba’s classmate had provided decorative lights that flitted about the room, giving it an enchanted mood.

A footman announced their presence, naming Prince Andreu first, and nearly everyone in the room bowed respectfully. Vincen’s father nodded his acknowledgment and then led their group down the center of the room towards the King. Vincen felt like every eye in the room was on him and he felt himself growing hot under the collar. He hoped his face wasn’t getting red. He wanted to glance back at Alba to see how she was doing but of course, he couldn’t. He was sure she was handling this just fine though, she was always gracious under pressure, as much in her element as his father was in these situations.

They stopped several paces back from the dais and bowed before the King. Vincen and the men all dropped to one knee with their heads bowed while Alba and the women curtsied so low that they seemed to sit on the floor, their skirts billowing out around them.

“Welcome, brother,” said King Oriol from his seat. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit today?” It was all part of the ceremony. Everyone in the room knew the reason.

“I would ask a boon of my King if he would be so gracious as to hear his servant’s plea,” said Andreu, his head still bowed.

“I am so gracious. Rise and speak.”

Andreu stood up while Vincen and the rest remained bowing. This was the hardest part of the ceremony, Vincen thought. Already he was tired from staying down for so long, despite having practiced for this. He wondered how Alba was doing, the curtsey pose was much more difficult to maintain for long periods.

“My Liege,” Prince Andreu said. “I humbly request your permission for my son, Lord Mage Vincen Canto, to marry Lady Mage Alba Lequette, daughter of your servant Marquess Anton Lequtte.”

“Do you believe this union to be for the good of the Empire?”

“I do, my King.”

“And is Marquess Lequette present this evening?” Vincen thought that was foolish since it was clear that he was.

“I am, my Liege,” replied the Marquess, his head still bowed.

“Rise, my servant,” said the King. Marquess Lequette smoothly stood and faced the King, somehow looking proud and humble at the same time. “Do you consent to this union?” the King asked.

“I do, my King.”

“And do you believe this union to be for the good of the Empire?”

“I do, my King.”

King Oriol nodded and looked about the room. “Are the children, Lord Mage Vincen and Lady Mage Alba present?”

Vincen tensed up. This was it. After this moment, the engagement would be official. There was no going back now. “We are, my Liege,” he said, desperately trying to speak loudly without shouting.

“Rise, my servants,” said the King. Vincen pushed himself up, feeling his knees protest at their unfair treatment. His back ached as he tried to stand straight and proud before the King. Beside him Alba stood, her skirts enveloping her as she smoothly rose, making it look as if she was rising up through the floor itself. Vincen felt like a weed next to the most beautiful rose in the garden. He wished Ona had been there. She never made him feel like that.

The King looked at Vincen. “Do you consent to this union, my son?”

“I do, my King,”

“And do you believe this is for the good of the Empire?”

“I do, my King,” Vincen replied.

At this, the king nodded and, smiling, rose from his seat and looked out over the crowd. “Let it be known that I, King Oriol Canto, the first of his name, do consent to this union. May these two be joined in happiness, uniting their families for all time, for the good of the Empire!”

“For the good of the Empire,” the assembly echoed.

Vincen and Alba turned and smiled while the king placed a hand on each of their shoulders to the polite applause of the assembly. When the applause died down the king returned to his seat. “Let the ball commence,” he said with a wave of his hand.

Vincen's father shook his hand and Lady Caterina kissed him while Alba’s parents congratulated her, then Vincen took her arm and the two of them waded into the crowd as the orchestra began playing softly. The mage lights began to dance about the room in time to the music.

They spent the next twenty minutes smiling and thanking the various nobles who came to congratulate them while Kelso and Marie whispered names and titles to them. Vincen fought hard to maintain his aristocratic airs while also trying to remember what Kelso had just whispered into his ear about whichever nobleman or noblewoman he happened to be addressing at the moment. Alba, on the other hand, seemed to be perfectly at ease as she engaged in small talk with her subjects, asking them about their families or some other personal tidbit with a gracious smile.

As the line of guests waiting to greet them neared its end a younger couple approached them and bowed. Alba’s demeanor changed at their approach. Her smile seemed more genuine, and the young lady facing them returned her smile as she stood back up from her curtsey. The couple both had white skin and blond hair, much like the Queen’s, and typical of the provinces further to the north. The man’s eyes were strikingly blue, while the woman’s were a softer green. The man wore a white suit with no sash or medals, which seemed slightly odd to Vincen. Most of the other minor noblemen wore a tie or ascot at the very least. The woman wore a light blue ball gown which Vincen felt was appropriate — white would only have emphasized the paleness of her skin and hair, which were even lighter than her husband’s.

“Lord Matvei, Lady Alyona,” said Alba before Kelso could whisper their names to Vincen. Marie had not even stepped towards Alba, and it was instantly obvious that they were already acquainted with each other. She turned to Vincen. “These are my father’s guests I told you about,” she explained. “They have been staying with us this last month.”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Vincen shook Lord Matvei’s hand. He looked like he was only a few years older than Vincen and he had the soft look of a true nobleman, yet his grip was as strong as Mr. Codina’s. “Lord Matvei, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Any friend of Alba’s is a friend of mine.”

“Thank you, my Lord, the pleasure is mine, I assure you. Congratulations on your engagement.”

Vincen nodded and kissed Lady Alyona’s hand while Lord Matvei did the same with Alba. Lady Alyona’s hand was as soft and smooth as he expected. “You come from the north, yes?” Vincen asked when the pleasantries were over.

“Indeed we do, my Lord,” replied Lord Matvei. “We are from Clement, a small town about a hundred miles south of Villamont.”

“Our son, Kilian, began attending school here just last year,” said Lady Alyona. That surprised Vincen a little. The couple did not look old enough to have a child of academy age. “This is only our second time visiting Albaron City, and our first time at the palace. Marquess Lequette’s hospitality has been most gracious.”

“Indeed,” said Vincen. “The Marquess is a generous man.” He smiled slightly as Kelso withdrew, having whispered some details about Clement in his ear as the lord and lady were talking. What would he do without him? “I have heard of Clement, a mining town high in the mountains if I recall. Lord Randon’s province. I myself have never been further north than Marisette, and then only briefly. Do you intend to stay in Albaron City long?”

“I am afraid we cannot,” said Lord Matvei. “We have already tarried too long in Marisette. We will only be here a few more days and then must return home. I have neglected my duties there long enough, and Kilian is missing us, I’m sure.”

“You must return next year for the wedding,” Vincen said.

The couple bowed. “We are honored, my Lord,” said Lord Matvei.

“Please give our regards to your sister, my Lady,” said Lady Alyona. “I do hope she is enjoying the evening.” Vincen realized she had been the first person to even mention Ona. He decided he liked her, if for nothing else than that alone.

“I shall, Lady Alyona. I’m sure she is indeed enjoying herself.”

“Is she not with you, then?” asked Lady Alyona. She seemed surprised.

“Ona has always enjoyed parties,” replied Alba. “I can never keep track of her when there’s fun to be had.”

Lady Alyona giggled, which made her seem more like a girl to Vincen than the noble lady standing before him. He could see why Alba liked her. “That certainly seems like Lady Ona. Well, please do pass on my regards when next you see her.” She curtsied and took her husband’s arm as they departed.

“They seem nice,” said Vincen as the next couple due to approach stayed back, waiting for Kelso to motion them forward.

“They are,” Alba agreed. “I quite enjoy Lady Alyona’s company, though she does tend to get rather excited over the topic of our marriage.”

“Are they even old enough to have a son attending the King’s Academy?”

Alba nodded. “They adopted the child after finding him on a tour of one of their local orphanages. They have very kind hearts.”

“Lucky boy,” Vincen said. It wasn’t uncommon for noble families to adopt, of course, though usually the arrangements were made among families of similar station in order to secure favor or consolidate political power. To adopt a common child from an orphanage, and then to treat that child as their own instead of as a ward; it was rarely done, and certainly never among the high lords. It spoke of a certain boldness and strength of character to the Matvies that Vincen liked. He smiled.

“My Lord,” Kelso whispered. “The line.”

“Right,” Vincen said. He recovered his posture and prepared for the next greeting as Kelso waved them forward.

As the orchestra played, more and more couples joined the dance floor or gathered around in little circles, talking about business or gossiping until he and Alba eventually found themselves alone. Vincen frowned as he realized that the true reason for the evening had begun, socializing. His father would want him to join in, he knew, but he had no idea how to even begin. He barely knew anyone in attendance and couldn’t just push his way into a random group. Sure, he could get away with it because of his status, but it was still rude and improper, and he would have no idea what to even talk about. He began to scan the crowd for his parents. Maybe he could get one of them to properly introduce him to someone. They would know who he needed to form connections with anyway.

“Would you like to dance?”

“Hmm?” Vincen shook his head and looked at Alba.

“We should dance,” she said, looking at him bemusedly. “People are expecting it.”

“Umm – yeah. I – I suppose we should,” Vincen stammered, heat rising under his collar. He was embarrassed that he hadn’t even considered dancing and Alba had been forced to ask him. Though if he was honest, dancing had never been his strong point. He was much more comfortable on the sidelines, playing his guitar. He took her hand in his, feeling a small thrill at the warmth of it, and gestured at the dance floor with his other hand. “Shall we?”

She smiled and nodded. The orchestra had struck up a lively waltz. He led her through the crowd and onto the dance floor. They took their positions and waited for an appropriate moment in the song before they began. Vincen felt another thrill as he placed his hand on Alba’s waist. When was the last time the two of them had danced? Balls were not big at the academy since most of the students were commoners, and while Alba was a splendid dancer she usually danced alone or with her ballet partner. He looked into her soft brown eyes and found himself missing Ona more than ever — she had always been ready for an impromptu dance during music class and often dragged him along. Alba noticed the longing in his face and looked away with downcast eyes. Before he could stammer out an apology the music began a new bar and they were swept away.

Vincen may not have been very comfortable dancing, but he was respectable enough at it. Even so, dancing with Alba made him feel like a bumbling clod. Even though he was leading and she went where he guided, he still had the impression that the dance belonged to her and that he was just a necessary prop in her performance. He was perfectly fine with that. Her every movement was as smooth as velvet and the smile that had faded from her face just before they began dancing returned as the two of them became lost in the moment. Alba swayed and flowed along with the beat of the music, her colorful skirts flowing around her and standing out in sharp contrast to the bland whites and blues all around them. Vincen was her anchor, guiding her and keeping her from being swept away by the sea of dancers while he himself was adrift, transfixed by the look of pure joy on her face.

Suddenly Alba stopped and Vincen realized with shock that the dance was over. He tore his gaze away from Alba and looked around. At some point they had made their way to the middle of the room. The crowd had cleared a space for the two of them and every set of eyes was watching. He felt his face growing hot and he tugged at his collar. Alba noticed the attention as well and flushed as she looked at the floor.

“You dance well,” she said with a curtsey.

“It’s nothing compared to you,” he said as he bowed, the traditional way of ending a dance. “You were amazing.” He looked around at the crowd, who were still watching the two of them. “And I think they all agree,” he added with a grin, trying to hide his embarrassment. A flash of silver on the balcony above them caught his attention, but when he looked up it was gone. A different kind of thrill surged through him. Was Ona watching them?

Vincen turned his attention back to Alba and was about to suggest that they move off the floor when the crowd suddenly parted and people began bowing. Aarmond was walking toward them with a smile. Vincen bowed while Alba curtsied. “Your Highness,” Vincen said.

“That was beautiful,” Aarmond said. “The two of you truly were made for each other.”

“Thank you, my Prince,” said Vincen even as his stomach turned. He couldn’t be made for Alba, not when he belonged to Ona. But, of course, Ona was dead. “You are too kind.”

“I wonder if I may impose upon you, dear cousin, and ask your lovely fiance for a dance? I fear I may not get another chance for some time.”

Vincen bowed. “But of course.” He looked at Alba. “If the Lady agrees.”

Alba smiled and curtsied. “Certainly the Lady agrees. I would be delighted, my Prince.”

Vincen stepped back with a bow while Aarmond took Alba’s hand. The orchestra struck up a tune - another waltz - and Vincen stepped off the dance floor. He quickly lost sight of Alba and Aarmond as the guests swept in around them and the dancing began again. Kelso met him at the edge of the crowd.

“Your father is waiting for you, my Lord. He desires to introduce you to the Lord Commander of the halberdiers.”

That reminded Vincen of something he had noticed earlier while eduring the seemingly endless line of well-wishers. “That big guy, Aarmond’s guard, Nahuel, isn't here tonight. I thought he followed Aarmond everywhere.”

“I noticed that as well and made some inquiries,” replied Kelso. “It seems that he was urgently needed elsewhere. That is all I could learn.”

Vincen frowned. Tonight was supposed to be the highlight of the season, the biggest social event in the Empire. Every high-ranking noble was in attendance as well as the entire Royal family. He would have thought that every single halberdier would be there. He exchanged a look with Kelso and could see that he was thinking the same thing. What could be happening that needed Nahuel’s attention? Whatever Vincen thought about the man’s personality, there was no denying that he was extremely competent when it came to his job. Another flash of silver caught his attention and he glanced at the balcony above. This time he was certain he caught a glimpse of Ona before she disappeared. Kelso saw as well.

“Tell Father I’ll be along shortly. Say I need to refresh myself or something.” He didn’t take his eyes from the balcony as he spoke, all thoughts of Nahuel slipping from his mind.

Kelso bowed slightly. “Very well, my Lord.” He straightened up and added more quietly, “give Lady Ona my regards. I would like the chance to see her myself before the evening is through.”

“I will. Thanks, Kelso.”

His friend nodded, then turned and strode away. Vincen watched until he was swallowed up by the crowd then headed for the wide marble staircase that led to the balcony. The runelights up here were turned down low, leaving the balcony darker than the main floor. Besides the orchestra on the opposite side of the room, Vincen only saw one couple taking advantage of the relative privacy to get to know each other a bit more… intimately. They were tucked away in one of the darkest corners and did not seem to notice Vincen’s presence so he tried to ignore them and began looking around for Ona.

He found her waiting for him on the short span that connected the two longer sides of the balcony. She was floating against the back wall where no one could see her from below. Her silver body shimmered in the dark as if she was making her own light, though she cast no glow on her surroundings. She was so close to the wall that part of her was inside of it. He paused. It had been nearly a month since he had last seen her, the longest they had been apart since before the accident. While Alba was growing into a beautiful young woman, wearing the dresses and hairstyles that women from her province traditionally wore, Ona still looked exactly like she had on the day she died – like a fourteen-year-old girl, still in her school robes with her hair down, loose and flowing about her shoulders.

He knew shades didn’t age. One of the boys in the class under his had a brother who died before they started at the academy. His shade was full of the kind of youthful energy you would expect from a young boy, which made things interesting at times, but everyone was used to it. That was just how things were with shades. So why did Ona’s appearance tonight surprise him so much? Had some part of him expected the immutable laws of the universe to suddenly change just for her? Or was it for him?

He stepped towards her with a smile and she shrank a little further back into the wall. He paused again, his smile fading as he realized what it was that seemed so odd. She looked scared, timid even. Ona was many things, but timid was never one of them.

“Hey,” he said, trying to sound cheerful. “We missed you at the ceremony.”

“I…” she began, not looking at him. “I couldn’t go. I’m sorry. I know it was important.”

“That’s ok. I knew you’d be here somewhere.”

“Because of the Bond?” There was a bitterness to her voice that Vincen had rarely heard before.

“Of course not,” he said quickly, cringing at the partial lie. “I wanted to see you. I’ve missed you.” That much was true, at least.

She floated out of the wall and drifted a little closer to him. “I’ve missed you too.” She raised her arms slightly then stopped and let them fall back to her side. Vincen’s heart ached even as his hands tingled with the memory of holding Alba during their dance.

“Alba told me you had a fight. She feels awful, you know.”

“It wasn’t a fight, not really,” she said, looking at the floor.

Vincen waited for a minute, watching her hair drift about her shoulders on some unseen current. He longed to take her into his arms. Hold her. Comfort her. Dance with her. “But you’re still not talking to her?” he said before the silence grew too awkward. “Was it that bad?”

Ona shook her head. “No. She said some things that were hard to hear, but I understand why she said them.” She shrugged. “It was all true.” Again, an uncomfortable silence settled between them as Vincen searched for some sort of reply. He still didn’t know exactly what had happened between them or what had been said, but he didn’t want to push for answers. One of them would tell him when they were ready. Regardless, this was hardly the joyful reunion he had envisioned.

“Want to come downstairs?” he finally asked, unable to think of anything else to say. “Kelso wants to see you too.”

“This isn’t right, Vincen.”

“Huh?”

“All of this,” she said, waving her hands at the dance floor. “It's for you and Alba, not me. It was supposed to be mine, but it’s not.”

“But it is for you. It’s for friends and family.”

She shook her head and scoffed. “It’s so the King can show you off to the nobility and brag about finally having some mages back in power. Well, I’m not a noble and I’m not a mage. Not anymore.” She looked out over the ballroom. “I'm a shade now. Just an afterimage made up of Ona’s essence, according to some scholars.”

“That’s not true,” Vincen said, her words ripping into his heart. “You are still you, and we all want you here. Why do you think they altered the wards? Everyone’s asking about you.” That wasn’t entirely true. Lady Alyona was the only person who had even mentioned her, besides Kelso. He tried not to cringe. It bothered him how easily he lied to her, but he hated seeing her so sad.

Ona sighed and shook her head. Her hair slowly trailing behind the motion. “Why are we doing this, Vincen?”

Vincen frowned. He felt like there was something hidden behind the question – some sort of trap he didn't want to fall into, but he wasn’t sure what it could be. “Because of tradition?” he said cautiously. “To make the engagement official.”

“Not that,” she said with a shake of her head, her eyes suddenly wet with silvery tears. “You. Me. Alba. Why? It should be the two of us down there. You and me. This is supposed to be our night and I can’t stand that it’s not. I want you to be holding me. I want you to be dancing with me, not her.”

“Ona…” He wanted that too. It wasn’t fair to Alba, but it was true, and they all knew it.

“It’s ok.” She wiped her tears away and they disappeared into glittering dust as they dripped from her fingers. “We can’t change it, so I want you to be happy. You and Alba should be happy.”

Vincen’s throat was clenching up. Alba was a dear friend – as close as a sister – and he loved her as one. But he didn’t love her as a wife. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat and shook his head.

“But –” his voice cracked and he swallowed again, trying to loosen his throat. He needed to say this. He had wanted to for so long. “But I love you, Ona.” His voice was barely a whisper.

She shook her head and turned away. “Oh, Vincen. You fool.”

He blinked. His heart was pounding in his chest and tears blurred his eyes. He didn’t know what kind of reaction he had expected from her, or if he had expected one at all.

She sighed and looked at him again with a sad smile. “I know. Everyone knows. But it's impossible. You need someone who can support you. Someone who can hold you and bear your children. Someone who can be there for you, even fight for you if needed. You don’t need a shadow – someone bound to her sister’s side who no one can see or touch. You need Alba.”

“I don’t care who I need,” Vincen said bitterly, anger rising up inside. “I’m tired of everyone telling me what I need.” He fixed his eyes on hers, looking deep into their silvery fog and trying not to wish that they were soft and brown once more. She flickered out of focus and he saw the wall behind her plainly, more solid than she could ever be. He broke his gaze and looked at the floor. She was right. He knew it deep down. “I want you,” he said, refusing to admit defeat.

“I’ll always be here,” she said, her features coming back into focus. She chuckled slightly and smiled the mischievous smile that he loved so much. “Remember the Bond? Where Alba goes, so do I. You won’t be rid of me so easily.”

Vincen sighed and sat down on the bench next to the wall. Ona drifted around so that she was facing him as the orchestra struck up another song. This time it was a quiet sonata. Vincen imagined the guests dancing below, holding each other close. Alba was probably still dancing with Aarmond. A vague sense of jealousy coursed through his chest at the thought. He shook it away and looked back at Ona. “Don’t joke like that. No one wants to get rid of you.”

Ona looked at him with a smile but didn’t say anything. He looked back, struggling against the silence, and watched as her hair and robes floated unnaturally around her. It seemed as if they were trying to drift towards him like some unfelt current was pulling at them. Eventually, Ona sighed and looked down at her hands. “I’m already gone, Vincen. But for tonight let’s pretend that I’m not.” She turned and watched the orchestra. “Remember how we used to play together?”

Vincen nodded. He didn’t play much these days.

She turned back, tears in her eyes again. “Play for me, one more time?”

“I didn’t bring my guitar,” Vincen said.

Ona smiled mischievously again and pointed at the orchestra. “They have one.”

Vincen grinned despite himself. Good old Ona. Always ready for tricks. He scanned the orchestra members until he spied one with a guitar sitting next to his seat. With barely even a thought he pulled on it and let the wave of euphoria wash over him as the guitar drifted through the air toward him. To his credit, the musician didn’t cry out when his instrument suddenly floated away, though a few of his neighbors missed some notes.

The guitar settled into his arms and he cradled it automatically, feeling the wood beneath his hands. The familiar shape of the instrument pressed against his body and his mind cleared of all other thoughts. He plucked at the strings and adjusted the tuning knobs absently. It was well-tuned already, the musician it belonged to had seen to that.

“What do you want to hear?” he asked as he ran through a few scales to warm up his fingers.

Ona thought for only a moment. “How about Rustikov’s Serenade in D minor?”

Vincen blinked. It was one of her favorites. They used to play it together all the time. “That’s a duet. You can’t play the cello.”

“I’ll sing my part,” she said with a smile. Vincen winced and Ona frowned. “I’m not that bad.”

Vincen grinned. “Alba’s better.”

“We have the same voice,” she said with a pout.

“She’s still better.”

“Only because she took all those extra classes and practiced a bunch.”

“That’s not helping your argument, you know.”

Ona crossed her arms and turned her nose up. “Fine, but I still want to do it.” Her face turned serious again. “I’m going to miss this.”

I already do, Vincen thought. “Me too,” he said aloud then strummed the first few notes of their song.

It was originally composed as a duet for violin and cello, but the violin part was easy enough to play on the guitar with only a few minor alterations that Vincen had worked out years ago as part of an assignment. He strummed the first few notes again and began to play. Ona closed her eyes and concentrated on the music, her head bobbing in time to Vincen’s strumming. When the cello part came up she began to sing, humming softly at first and then singing the notes out loud as she grew more confident. Vincen was surprised at how good it sounded and almost missed his cue to begin his part again. As the song progressed and their two parts began to mingle into a single melody Vincen realized that he was dancing with Ona in their own special way. He felt like they were back at the academy, in the music room practicing like they always had. Nothing else mattered. Not the King, not his father, noble society and its expectations, not even Alba mattered in that moment. There was only the two of them and the music.

All too soon the song ended and Vincen noticed that there were tears in Ona’s eyes once again. He blinked and realized that he was crying too. He sniffed and wiped at his eyes with his sleeve. “You’ve been practicing, haven’t you?” he asked.

“Maybe. A little. I’ve had some free time lately.” There was a happy smile on her lips but her eyes held a deep sadness.

“This doesn’t have to be ‘goodbye’, you know,” said Vincen. He knew it was though, at least in a way.

“It’s not,” she said. “As long as you’re with Alba, I’ll be there too.”

“It won’t be the same though.”

“It hasn’t been the same since the day I died, Vincen. We just never admitted it.”

Before Vincen could reply – he didn’t know what he was going to say anyway – he heard footsteps. He looked up and saw Kelso approaching them. He sighed inwardly. He had been gone too long and his father must be getting impatient. He sat up straight as Kelso drew near.

“That was a lovely song,” Kelso said. He turned and bowed at Ona. “Lady Ona, it is nice to see you again.”

She smiled. “Just Ona, Kelso. I’m no Lady anymore.”

“You shall always be to me, my Lady.”

“What do you need, Kelso?” asked Vincen before Ona could reply back. He could easily see the two of them going back and forth on the matter for quite some time.

“The Lord Commander was called away rather urgently. Your father is very upset that you missed the opportunity to meet with him. He told me to find you and ‘drag him back by the ears’ if necessary.”

Vincen frowned. “Do you think something’s wrong? First Nahuel and now the Lord Commander?”

“It’s possible, though most likely it is only an internal matter of business.” Vincen didn’t believe that for one moment. No internal business would be important enough to interrupt the King’s guards on a night that had been planned for months. By the look on Kelso’s face, he didn’t believe it either.

“What are you talking about?” asked Ona

“Hopefully nothing,” said Vincen. “We’re just wondering why Aarmond’s head guard isn’t here tonight.”

“The big one with the white eyes?” she asked. Vincen nodded. “He gives me the creeps. Telepaths aren’t supposed to be able to read shades.” She pointed at her head and shrugged. “Something about us not having any brains to read. But somehow he looked right into me. It’s unnatural.”

“I do not believe he is a telepath,” said Kelso. He began walking toward the stairs. Vincen and Ona followed.

“No?” asked Vincen.

“His Skill resembles telepathy, but I do not think he reads or shares information. When he used it on me it seemed more like he was looking into who I was as a person. I think he reads intentions or character. Looking for hostility or disloyalty.”

“Handy Skill for a halberdier,” Ona said as they rounded the corner of the balcony.

“Indeed,” said Kelso. “It also seems like he can move as fast as Lady Alba, or nearly so.”

“That lines up with what I saw,” said Vincen. “He caught that arrow without any trouble.” He wasn’t thrilled to be discussing that night again but it was better than thinking about what his father would say when he reached him. Besides, dissecting another mage’s Skills was a favorite pastime amongst students at the academy, and Kelso was especially good at it.

“The guard who caught Alba could too,” said Ona. “I didn’t think her Skill was all that common.”

“It is not, but it makes sense that the halberdiers would utilize as many mages with such a useful Skill as they could.”

They had nearly reached the stairs when the main doors of the hall opened. Vincen stopped to watch. They had an excellent view from the balcony. A footman entered and made his way through the crowd to the king’s dais. This was a common occurrence but there was something about the way the footman moved that caught Vincen’s attention. He walked with an urgency that footmen, especially palace footmen, rarely displayed. The king’s valet met him at the edge of the dais and they whispered together for a few moments before the footman nodded and stepped back. The valet turned and strode across the dais, then bent low and began whispering to the King. Now Vincen was intrigued. What was going on that needed the King’s personal attention?

The Valet nodded at the King’s reply and stood, motioning to the waiting footmen across the hall. They responded immediately, pulling open the heavy wooden doors and stepping aside. Five men in dark blue livery Vincen did not recognize stepped through. The head attendant turned aside and handed a calling card to a footman while the others took their positions inside the ballroom; two on either side of the doorway. A stir ran through the ballroom as the orchestra abruptly brought their song to an awkward conclusion. The footman read over the calling card, then loudly cleared his throat, catching the attention of the last few of the guests yet to realize that something was out of the ordinary.

“Lord Gabriel Borden, the Duke in the North, Lord Protector of Villamont, and Guardian of the high borderlands.”

As the footman’s booming voice carried through the packed ballroom the largest man Vincen had ever seen strode into the room with a grace that belied his imposing physicality. He stood at least a head taller than the footman - who was not a short man - and there was not a hint of fat anywhere on him. His skin was a dark olive that Vincen had not expected from his introduction as a northerner, and his hair was cut short without sideburns or a mustache. He wore a white suit similar to Vincen’s own and it was as elegant and well-tailored as would be expected of a man of his status, though the lack of medals or ornamentation felt glaringly out of place - almost deliberate. It was similar to how Lord Matvie had dressed. Maybe that was the current fashion in the north?

Vincen noticed Ona moving next to him and he glanced at her. She had drifted a couple of feet higher into the air, her gaze fixed on the newcomer, eyes narrowed as if she was looking at something Vincen couldn't see. He turned back to the Duke, who had now walked several feet into the room and stopped, looking over the gathering with an amused grin. His eyes swept back and forth as his attendant took up his post just behind him, to the Duke’s right. A few guests nodded in polite recognition. Some bowed, though most looked as if they wished they could be somewhere else.

“My Lord,” Kelso said, appearing at Vincen’s side and making him jump. Vincen turned and Kelso nodded toward the dais. “Your father is waiting.”

“Who is he?” Ona asked, drifting back down to eye level.

“Duke Borden, the Lord Protector of Villamont, which is a nominally important border town in the north range. The outpost has more cultural and economic import than military and under normal circumstances would hardly warrant the protectorship of a duke.”

“Villamont,” Vincen said, regaining his composure. “Sounds kinda familiar.”

“It’s one of the walled cities from ancient times, before the Empire.”

Ona nodded as she glanced back at the ballroom floor. “The Warded Walls, right? Father’s guests are from that region, I think.”

“Correct. Clement does not fall under Duke Borden’s domain, however.”

“You said ‘under normal circumstances’...” Vincen prompted, nodding toward the dais and turning to head back down to the ballroom. Best not to keep his father waiting any longer, just as he seemed to be regaining his trust.

Kelso fell in beside Vincen as they headed toward the stairs. “I’m sure you noticed the change in atmosphere as the Duke arrived?”

“Not just because he was late, then?”

Kelso snorted and Vincen jerked his head around to stare at him. That had been a very un-Kelso-like reaction. Kelso sighed.

“If only that were the case. Prior to their move to Villamont, house Borden had been entrusted with Savaria.”

Ona gasped and Vincen stumbled as he brought himself up short, grabbing the railing to keep himself from slipping on the stairs. That was the last thing he’d expected to hear. He’d always known that his father had been granted Savaria shortly after marrying his birth mother, though they hadn’t moved there until a few months before Vincen was born. He’d hardly spared a thought for the noble family who previously controlled the lands - and wealth - his family now held. But now here he was, larger than life and impossible to ignore. Little wonder everyone was suddenly nervous.

Vincen cleared his throat and straightened himself up. He glanced from Kelso to Ona, then stepped to the balcony's edge. He looked toward Duke Borden again. He was standing in the same spot as before but was now looking up at him. Their eyes met, and the Duke smiled.

END OF CHAPTER NINE