“So let me get this straight.” Tylariel said as she stared at Arcturus, arms folded under her bust and a too-controlled expression on her pretty features. “Not only did you publicly show off in front of Order-knows-how-many spectators, functionaries, and noble guests; but you also had your betrothal to the Highblade Heiress declared for the entire amphitheatre to hear?”

Arcturus suppressed his grimace as his mentor rattled off his escapades, listening dutifully while standing at parade rest near the hearth of the massive sitting room they’d all gathered in.

“Yes, Mentor.” He replied while staring fixedly at her forehead.

“Then we find out, most wonderfully, that you encountered Leon bloody Valoris damned Honorum and befriended him, of all things!”

Very slick of you.

Arcturus nodded again. “Yes, Mentor.”

Tylariel’s eye started twitching, and she opened her mouth to begin another rant, when she was cut off.

“He is exactly like his father.” Tiberius’ deep voice washed over them all with amusement, the Rubastra Patriarch’s presence felt keenly even while he stood at ease near one of the floor-to-ceiling windows with Adam, both of them enjoying pipes that expelled blue smoke. “Down to the battle-lust and urge for competition. His grandfather, too. Every Valoura since the original Regis, in fact. You’re berating him for being him, daughter. It’s not going to work.”

“He endangered all of us with his reckless—!”

“Tylariel.” Tiberius interrupted paternally. “No amount of denigration is going to make him feel what you think he should. Look at him, really look at him. I’ve seen that look in Titus’ eyes, and Honoris’ before him. Our young Prince has seen his enemy’s face. He has focused on Leon Valoris like the mighty eagles his House is represented by.”

Arcturus looked at Tiberius quietly as the elder Archon spoke, and when the silver-streaked Lord raised an eyebrow in question, Arcturus sighed and inclined his head in confirmation.

“You need not worry any more, Tylariel.”

“Father!”

“He is his father’s son. Could you have done with another in a month what you have done with him?”

Tylariel sighed. “He is my Apprentice, Father.”

“And you are teaching him well, but he is also your first Apprentice, and you must be wary of overzealous recrimination.”

When Tylariel’s shoulders slumped a little, Arcturus spoke up. “Thank you for your lesson, Mentor. I will endeavour to be better, and make you proud of me as an Apprentice.”

The woman’s eyes snapped to him when he started speaking, and then softened by time he was done. He saw her shoulders subtly straighten, and suppressed a smile. No matter how old one grew; a parent’s words could still be a blade against the spine of their confidence. He knew well what it felt like to be admonished by a parent, especially one powerful and well-respected, and couldn’t help but empathise with his Mentor in that moment — even forgetting the fact she was nearly a century his senior, for all that she looked barely into her thirties.

Good morning skincare, maybe?

“As for the matter with the Highblade girl,” Tiberius said with a smile, “I think it’s fine. Elethea has a good head on her shoulders, and I’ve always liked Beowulf. He was ferociously loyal to your father, given that Honoris trained him.”

“Beowulf Highblade was trained by the King? Why not Senior too?” Adam asked in surprise.

“Senior?” Tiberius asked back in turn.

“My father insisted everyone called him ‘Senior’ and me ‘Junior’ when we were together.” Arcturus explained with a wry smile. “He said it made him feel like we were a team.”

Tiberius snorted. “That sounds like the kind of mischief Titus would pull, certainly.” Then he turned back to Adam. “Yes, Beowulf was trained by Honoris. As for Titus, it is tradition for the Valouran Heir to experience the lives of their subjects. The closest appropriate station was an Apprentice to a high-blooded Archon, and Honoris and my own father were friends — so I was chosen to train young Titus.”

“Such a messy web of relationships.” Andy sighed from his position one one of the plush sofas, playing with a throwing knife as Caeara watched with interest.

“That is the way of the elite.” Tiberius agreed. “Small, introverted circles of exclusivity and power.”

“Hey, so this might be an awkward question…” Danica started off carefully, “but what happens if Arcturus brings his dad back? Like, to Terra?”

All eyes turned to Arcturus first, and he blinked. “Well, I kind of thought it was obvious that I would want my dad and mom here, yeah…”

The collection of gazes then swivelled to Tiberius, including Tylariel’s.

“That would be… Hm.” Tiberius rumbled thoughtfully, taking a puff of his pipe. “If Titus returned… Heavens, what a kerfuffle that would be. I daresay we might have a civil war.”

“But isn’t Simba—” Arcturus snorted at Andy’s use of the nickname “—only Crown-Prince because Senior isn’t here?”

“In essence, yes, but there is more to it than that. It has been over three decades since Titus vanished into the dark beyond, and in that time we have seen the birth of a new son of the blood of Valoura, and the people have grown used to Leon Valoris as their prince; especially the younger generation.”

Being pronounced dead seems like a real bummer.

“But he’s a usurper—”

“No, he isn’t.” Arcturus interjected as Andy started. “Not really. I have no love for my cousin, but I met him. I spoke with him. Whatever his father may be, my cousin is…” Arcturus struggled to be objective as he thought of Leon’s hold over Amélie “...charismatic. Likeable. Benevolent, even. He has a quippy personality and he demonstrates sarcastic and irreverent traits, but don’t I do the same? Doesn’t my father? Leon is a child of Valoura, even if he bears the name and guise of House Honorum. He’s my enemy because of circumstance, and because of… other things.” He didn’t want to mention Amélie, but he saw his friends’ eyes narrow in understanding as he evaded the subject. “But none of that makes him a usurper. There was no legal heir, so one was appointed. According to all the laws of the Empire, Leon Valoris Honorum is the legal heir-apparent to the Throne of Valaria.”

“How does that affect the fact that Senior is still the rightful heir?” Andy grumbled.

“Because by proclaiming Leon—” Danica started.

“—Honoris declared Titus’ claim null and void.” Adam finished.

“Doesn’t that mean that Arcturus’ reveal—?” Caeara started to ask.

“Will also risk a civil war? Yes.” Adam confirmed.

“Then why bother?” Andy groused.

“Because Leon Fortunis will poison this Dominion as surely as he has poisoned the Church.” Tylariel declared boldly. “Whatever his son’s virtues, Fortunis shares none of them.”

“He is a snake.” Tiberius agreed. “He has wanted to find a way to rid himself of Titus since he married Selucia.”

What a massive jackass, and I thought you were bad!

“My Aunt…” Arcturus murmured.

“You have three.” Tiberius confirmed. “But only Selucia has birthed a boy. You and Titus were the firstborn sons of each generation. It’s rather intriguing, in truth. Honoris had no brothers, neither did Titus, and apparently neither do you.”

“Yeah, well, Order likes His patterns.” Arcturus muttered derisively.

Caeara made the odd religious symbol again, and Andy rolled his eyes at her.

“Won’t she recognise Arcturus as Senior’s son immediately?” Adam asked.

“She will.” Tylariel confirmed. “Selucia became deeply upset after her brother’s supposed death, and has never come out of that depression. Lucretia left Valaria and married into a High House in Mourndren, and Aurelia became an Adventurer and all but renounced her titles. Titus’ presumed passing wounded the Royal House deeply.”

“He and Romulus were close, too.” Tiberius said with a sigh. “The presumptive Emperor counted Titus among his closest and dearest companions from childhood. It was another reason Fortunis hated him: He was beloved by the highest echelons of the Empire’s power structure.”

“Okay, but back to the point…” Andy said carefully. “Won’t Selucia recognise Arcturus the moment she gets a good look at him?”

“She will, but that may not be a good thing.” Tiberius said gravely.

“How can that not be a good thing?” Danica asked in bewilderment.

“Because politics are complicated.” Tylariel said flatly. “There’s every likelihood Selucia will think him a golem or simulacrum designed to trick her, and order him killed on the spot.”

Arcturus grimaced at that, and his friends took it differently: Adam looked thoughtful, Caeara looked sad, Danica looked disgusted, and Andy looked alarmed.

“How do you plan to circumvent that, then, Mentor?” Arcturus asked her directly.

“I had planned on something more elaborate, but you misadventures may have given us a more approachable answer.”

“That being?”

“Elethea Highblade.”

Cue the shocked stare-off and five minute dramatic music.

“What?!” Danica and Andy exclaimed at the same time, before looking at each other and nodding in respect for a job well done.

“If Arcturus debuts at the masquerade on the arm of Elethea Highblade, the most prodigious daughter of that House in generations, it will stop even Fortunis from hasty action.” Tiberius explained with a pleased smile as he mulled over Tylariel’s words. “House Highblade is arguably the most martially powerful House in Valaria, if not the Empire at large if you discount the Royal Houses and Imperial House. If anyone hurt a single hair on her head unprovoked—”

“—Beowulf would burn their House to the ground, or something equivalent.” Adam concluded, before blinking and looking worriedly at Tiberius. Instead of growing angry at being cut off, the Rubastra Patriarch simply laughed. “You remind me of Ephrides.”

“Hey, I know him! He was the guy who betrayed the spartans, right?”

“No, Danica, that was Ephialtes of Trachis.” Arcturus said with a sigh.

“Oh. Whatever, they sound the same.”

“They do not sound remotely the same—!” Arcturus started in, before realising he’d also cut off Tiberius. “Ahem. My apologies, Lord Rubastra.”

“Nephilim.” Tiberius said with a smile. “Your spirits cannot be held in check by our protocols. Were I a younger man, I might have been offended. Thankfully age bequeaths wisdom, and I find your kind utterly fascinating, my young prince.” Tiberius took a puff of his pipe, then turned back to Adam. “Ephrides, master Warman, was Titus’ Seneschal and presumptive Prime Minister. He was an Archmage of rare and potent power, and a man with no regard for process or propriety. He would often, and loudly, disparage Titus in front of the Gilded Aegis just because he knew it irked them.”

“Adam would do that, but that sounds more like Andy. You know, the whole disrespectful jerk part.” Danica quipped.

“Hey!”

“You are rather uncouth at times.” Caeara mused.

“HEY!”

Better than a Sitcom. I’m telling you.

“This still doesn’t address how we’re going to legalise my status as Crown-Prince.” Arcturus interjected before an argument could start. “Sure, being on Elethea’s arm will stay the blades — and hell, it’d probably get me an audience with my grandfather… But he isn’t going to just hand over his entire legacy to some random kid. For all he knows, I’m illegitimate.”

“That is a concern.” Tylariel admitted. “Your father was wed, but with shard customs. His wedding could be declared illegal by the Church at Fortunis’ behest, and then we’d have a struggle on our hands.”

“The path to hell…” Adam murmured.

“Civil War is better than rolling over for the bad guys, though, right?” Andy asked the room at large.

“There are no bad guys, Andy.” Arcturus responded with a sigh, and started to pace as he laid out his thoughts. “There’s our side and their side, but even Fortunis isn’t some one-dimensional moustache-twirling villain. Tiberius and Tylariel believe that I need to replace Leon to avoid Fortunis proxy-ruling Valara and driving it into the ground. Based on their assertions about his greed, selfishness, corruption, and overarchingly weaselly personality I’m in agreement with them — but that’s because I think my Dad would want me to take a stand. In a way, I think he was raising me for it, given all his lessons on righteous war and valorous obligation.”

“But?” Caeara prompted, knowing one was coming.

“But—” Arcturus started with a smile for Caeara’s familiarity with him “—for all that Fortunis’ corruption will afflict Valaria, a civil war could be far more destructive if it isn’t handled properly. If it’s simply a House or Faction conflict, that’s one thing; Archons will take to the field, and the regular people will step back and let their rulers sort it out among themselves. However, if Leon calls up the garrison or involves the Church and the thrice-damned Inquisition…”

“Then it’s a whole new ballgame, and the casualties will start to mount.” Adam finished grimly. “Which means that Arcturus needs to have allies and the backing to dissuade such an action.”

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“...such as the support of the Lord Commander of the Valarian Legions.” Andy finished with a snort. “Wow, you really can’t make this shit up, can you?”

“What do you refer to?” Caeara queried.

“Arcturus just happens to go to the one aether-saturation zone in the entirety of Luxanium that happens to have a tournament run by the crazy war-addicted daughter of the one guy that can solve all our problems — and then that crazy war-addicted chick betrothes herself to him.”

I’ve been suspecting the same. This is all far, far too convenient Arcturus.

Everyone fell silent when Andy finished, and more than a few uncomfortable glances were exchanged.

“We are all but Threads in the Tapestry.” Tiberius said after a period of contemplative silence. “We move as the gods portend. All we can do is play our part, and hope that it is righteous.”

“Someone up there is definitely pulling for you.” Adam agreed. “Too many coincidences. Too many happenstances. It makes me uncomfortable.”

“The gods are watching us.” Caeara muttered. “I need to start going to the Temples again.”

“Great, it’s like we’re a bunch of Sims in a crappily written Game of Thrones mod. Time to start woohooing.”

“Gross.” Danica said, slapping Andy upside the head.

Someone please mention—!

“Tylariel and Andy already did that.”

—Thank you, you genius.

“Excuse me?” Tylariel asked frostily towards Adam.

“Nevermind.” He said quickly, realising his error immediately with a nervous glance at Tiberius, who was focusing intently on his pipe, and not on references to his daughter’s sex life.

“A bunch of Sims, I tell you.” Andy groused again.

“You’re such a jacka—!”

“Does it really matter?” Arcturus cut in, his voice raised to silence the room. “Honestly, whether it’s the gods, or Order, or even Tom Bombadil having a giggle—”

Adam snorted.

“—it doesn’t matter. What matters is what we do. If we act as if predetermination will fix everything, then we’re just predetermining our own loss. Our own defeat. You can bet that Leon Fortunis isn’t doing that, and we can’t either. So now we have Elethea, and she knows Leon. I’ll give her the damn betrothal if it means moving closer to ending all of this.”

“What about Amélie?” Adam asked with a focused gaze.

Arcturus glared at him, but Adam remained implacable as he waited for an answer, puffing on his pipe. Seconds passed and the others, barring Tylariel and Tiberius, squirmed in uncomfortable silence — until Arcturus finally relented and looked away with a snarl.

“I’ll… Figure it out.” Arcturus muttered.

“That isn’t good enough—”

“Well it’ll have to fucking do for now, Adam, because I don’t know!” Arcturus snapped. “I don’t know what to do about the fact that the girl I’ve been in love with since I was ten is now doing god-knows-what with my fucking cousin, and I definitely don’t know how I’m going to explain to her that I’m agreeing to marry some big-titted war-nut in order to better usurp—”

“Reclaim!” Andy corrected ‘helpfully’.

“—Fine! Reclaim—” he shot Andy a glare as he continued “—my inheritance, which by the way I still don’t even fully want; from the guy who was probably raised from birth to better manage it!”

I’ve missed your self-esteem issues.

“But you just said Senior was prepping you for it.” Danica pointed out.

“I said that’s what I thought he was doing!!” Arcturus growled. “All that talk about the righteous war, and noblesse oblige, and all of it. That’s how it seemed, or maybe seems, I don’t know the right vernacular right now.”

“Adjective.” Adam corrected.

“Fuck you!” Arcturus shot back.

The lavish doors to the sitting room opened as Arcturus went back to pacing, his fingers clenching and unclenching as he worked to calm down the anger that was bubbling inside of him. Again his temper was out of control, and as before he could not discern why. It felt like he was almost watching himself lose control, while being the person losing control: It was maddening, and only made him even angrier to think about it.

“Pardon the intrusion.” Vivienne said cordially. “But there has been a... development.”

“What happened, Vivienne?” Tylariel asked with a sigh.

“Ah, well my Lady; Lady Elethea Highblade is here, and she is claiming that His Highness offered her guest rights.”

Every eye in the room snapped to Arcturus, who stopped mid-pace to look first at Tylariel, then to Vivienne — who was herself the picture of neutrality and decorum, aside from the coldness in her eyes that Arcturus knew meant trouble in his future.

“I did no such thing! I only said I’d agree to let her call on me—”

“You didn’t define that, did you?” Tylariel asked flatly.

“Define it?” He asked warily.

“Oh my god, Arc, you’re so dumb.” Danica crowed.

“Calling on you is ambiguous, my boy.” Tiberius supplied helpfully. “As a ward afforded resident rights within the Estate, and under House Rubastra’s guardianship, what you’ve essentially done is extended an open ticket for young Elethea to visit you for as long as she wishes, whenever she wishes.” He glanced at Adam, who took the cue immediately.

“You opened the door to her, Arcturus, and told her she could stay as long as she wants.”

“Then I’ll just revoke—!”

“You cannot.” Tylariel growled through her teeth. “Arcturus Regis Voltaire lacks the authority and rank to rescind an offer once given to a personage of Elethea’s standing. Only my father as the Patriarch of Rubastra could coerce her departure, and knowing him—” She turned to Tiberius in resignation “—he’s already decided to let her stay.”

“I am quite fond of Beowulf.” Tiberius reiterated cheerfully.

Now you’re in a corner. What will you do?

“Excellent. That’s just excellent.” Arcturus muttered as he resumed pacing. “Send her in, Vivienne. We might as well greet her here.”

“That’s not proper protocol—” Adam started, only to be stopped by a pat on the shoulder from Tiberius.

“Highblades are not inclined to be shackled to such pleasantries, my boy. I think you will find Elethea will appreciate the directness of His Highness’ approach rather more than you might expect.”

“There is one other issue.” Vivienne said with another cold glance at Arcturus.

“Heavens above… Yes, Estate Mistress?” Tylariel asked in exasperation.

“When she arrived, she did so absent escort or ceremony, and asked after ‘Lord Voltaire’. One of the maids was a touch frazzled, and forgot about His Highness’ alias. Her puzzlement and confusion was… Well, according to the girl, she was quite certain Lady Highblade picked up on her attempt at covering her slip-up.”

“She wasn’t punished, right?” Arcturus asked immediately.

So altruistic. It’s going to get you killed, one day.

“She was not.” Vivienne confirmed. “I know her well. She’s an attentive and loyal girl.”

“Good. Mistakes happen. Besides, we apparently need Elethea to win a seemingly inevitable Civil War, since avoiding it seems like it’d be a damned miracle at this point.” Arcturus reached up to rub his forehead with a black-gloved hand. “Show her in, please, Vivienne.”

“As you wish, Your Highness.” The Estate Mistress said frostily.

“Just ‘my lord’ for the Prince for now, I think, Vivienne.” Tiberius said with a gesture of his pipe. “No need to arouse suspicion.”

“Yes, my lord.” A curtsy was given to Tiberius, and the Head of Staff departed in a swish of her blue silks.

“My word.” Tiberius murmured into the silence that followed. “You must have been quite energetic for her to be that smitten with you, my boy.”

“I haven’t slept with her!”

“Arcturus, you dog.” Andy said with raised eyebrows.

“I haven’t!”

“So that’s why she’s in your area of the residential wing so often…” Danica mused.

“Guys, seriously!”

“How scandalous.” Caeara admonished with a giggle.

“He hasn’t.” Adam interjected.

“Thank you! At last, some loya—!”

“That would require him hitting puberty.” The battlemage finished smugly.

“Dude!”

“I’m disappointed in you, Apprentice.” Tylariel said gravely.

“Mentor, I—!”

“I would have hoped you would have a better handle on your lover, by now.”

I never thought I’d see the day that Tylariel cracked a joke.

His friends stared at Tylariel in shock, and then erupted into howls of laughter as his Mentor’s lips twitched in amusement, and even Tiberius let loose a chortle. Tylariel joining in the ribbing seemed to have been the last straw, and uproarious laughter continuously filled the expansive sitting room as the Nephilim and Caeara cackled at the Archon’s joke, and at Arcturus’ evident embarrassment.

The laughter and teasing continued unabated until another knock came to the doors to the room a few minutes later, the culprit waiting only until Tylariel uttered “Enter” before throwing the doors open. Through them stepped Vivienne, followed a short distance behind by Elethea Solaria Highblade.

She had changed from when he’d seen her earlier in the day; now adorned in a white ascot blouse with gilded buttons, paired with a matching corset-belt in the same snowy shade, and tied with golden thread. Her leggings were a light shade of beige, with a pair of chocolate brown knee-high heeled boots to tuck them into. Her hair, he noticed, had been left to fall free as it had when he’d last seen her; the seemingly implausible combination of chestnut brown, golden blonde, and platinum white once again creating a natural balayage that bewildered him.

Concluding it all was the gilded and winged aetherblade hilt hanging off her belt.

To Arcturus, it screamed ‘classical business chic with a side of murder’.

“Lady Highblade.” Tylariel greeted Elethea cordially. “Welcome to the Rubastra Villa.”

“Archon Tylariel.” Elethea responded respectfully as she proffered a curtsy.

“Elethea, dear child.” Tiberius said as he crossed the room to offer her a paternal hug, which she returned with a smile. “Is Beowulf doing well?”

“My father is in fine health, revered Elder. Thank you for asking.”

“No need for such silly titles.” Tiberius chided. “What have I told you about that?”

“Yes, Uncle.” She assented with an undeniably brilliant smile.

Danica and Caeara rose politely from their seats to properly greet Elethea, and Andy eventually joined them after Danica smacked him upside the head to get his attention. He grumbled under his breath, but didn’t dare openly declare rebellion — not with Tiberius and Tylariel both in such close proximity.

“And these new faces?” Elethea asked as she turned away from Tiberius and Tylariel towards Adam, Andy, Danica, and Caeara.

“Oathsworn followers of your recalcitrant affianced.” Tiberius said good-naturedly, his golden eyes twinkling with mirth when Arcturus snapped his gaze to him. “Three Nephilim, one Terran.”

“My future husband must be quite the man, if he commands the loyalty of three Nephilim while the rest of us struggle to gain our regular retainers’ attention.”

Elethea was the picture of propriety as she was introduced to Arcturus’ companions, setting them each at ease with her presence with a few warm words of greeting and one or two quipped jokes. As he watched, Arcturus had to admit that she had a way with people: Inspiring both confidence and comfort in others in spite of her status and position. Even his earth-born friends, so disconnected from Terran social norms at times, seemed to find her charming — and he saw even Tylariel seemed to relax around her.

The only exception, he noted, was Vivienne. The Estate Mistress was smiling, but her eyes were cold, and when she looked at Elethea, Arcturus couldn’t help but feel an itch of discomfort at the back of his neck. Something in her gaze faintly unsettled him, though he could make neither heads nor tails of the reason. Vivienne had been sultry, seductive, quippy, graceful, teasing, and even somewhat demanding at times — but never before had she seemed menacing, and for Arcturus, menace was the only word he could describe when seeing her gaze as it remained fixed on Elethea.

Menacing, and perhaps even accusatory.

When Vivienne turned to meet his gaze, however, he saw a new emotion — one that subverted every expectation he’d had for what he might see. It was not jealousy, or anger, or any kind of promised retribution for a perceived jilting. Instead, it was a most unlikely expression for the usually stoic and self-confident buxom blonde: Regret.

It was bewildering.

“Thank you Vivienne.” Tylariel said with a nod. “That will be all.”

The Estate Mistress’ lips twitched, but she curtsied dutifully and withdrew, the doors closing behind her as she did.

All eyes, including Elethea’s, turned to Arcturus where he stood near the hearth; gloved hands resting at the base of his spine in the parade rest he’d come to enjoy in the last month. He appraised her as she appraised him, and where she seemed to be weighing him, he simply pondered how best to ask her if she was completely mad without creating an inter-house contention.

“I—”

“Why are you doing this?” Arcturus interjected before she could continue, firming his willpower and ignoring the stares from the others present.

Yes, because she wasn't extremely honest in coming here in the first place. Idiot.

“Doing what?”

“Don’t play coy with me, Elethea.”

The heiress smiled at his words and flipped her hair in the way he suspected was a personality tic for her slipping into a more contentious attitude. “You started it with your subtle invitation to stay with you.”

“I did what?”

“You know full well how vague that offer to call on you was. How could I resist such a tantalizing invitation? I was curious to see whether you’d sweep me to your rooms immediately, or take me right there in the entrance hall.”

Andy spat out his drink, looking between Elethea and Arcturus with wide eyes.

Danica giggled, Tylariel rolled her eyes heavensward, and both Adam and Tiberius pointedly puffed their pipes more furiously.

“You legitimately believe that was an actual invitation, don’t you?” Arcturus asked as his cheeks inflamed.

“Of course. You are not that subtle.”

Got that right, but now in the way you think, mamacita!

“I wasn’t… Nevermind.” He said with a sigh and a glance at Adam and Tiberius, looking at them thoughtfully for a moment, before turning back to Elethea. “What if I told you I planned on using you to get into the King’s Masquerade at the end of next month?”

“You could go without my aid.” Elethea said with an arched eyebrow.

“But not without losing the influence your presence would garner.”

Elethea smiled. “Then after the Masquerade?”

“Nothing.” Arcturus said simply. “Just a strong friendship.”

“Then it’s settled.” She said firmly.

“Wait, really?” Arcturus asked in surprise.

“Yes. I will simply win my way into your bed before the Masquerade, and make your heart mine before you can slip away from me.”

Marry her immediately. I need this.

Arcturus groaned. “That isn’t what you were meant to take away from that.”

“You don’t believe I can accomplish my goal?”

“It’d be one hell of a challenge, considering I—”

“Challenge Accepted!” She said immediately, slamming her right fist into her left palm.

“Rookie mistake, my boy.” Tiberius laughed.

“Uncle?” Arcturus questioned.

“Never challenge a Highblade.” Elethea elaborated. “Because we never back down.”

“I think Lady Highblade can take the quarters adjacent to Lord Voltaire’s.” Tiberius said mischievously. “That seems appropriate, given their entanglement.”

“Very.” Adam agreed.

“Absolutely!” Andy concurred.

“Oh gods, please yes.” Danica prayed.

“Good luck!” Caeara said with a grin.

Arcturus groaned as Elethea unleashed her dazzling smile at him.

It was going to be a long six weeks.