Thirty-two days after the imperial ambassador’s murder.

Tower of Gardens, oversurface of Radaar, 3423 AA.

The transport shuttle rose from its designated landing spot. The roar of engines and the waves of shimmering air blowing out from its thrusters faded as it descended below the edge of the massive platform. The rustle of leaves filled the calm that followed.

“I’ll say it one more time in case you’ve forgotten,” Seyleen said, smoothing her hair and brushing away several white petals that had gotten entangled in her dark curls. “Until we get to the mansion, you will not speak to anyone, am I clear?”

“Crystal, lass,” Raid said. “But I still don’t see the point in strutting around in these fancy clothes, pretending to have something stuck up my rear. I ain’t no highborn, and this – what was it again? – blazer won’t make me into one.”

“That’s why you won’t be going within a hundred steps of one,” she said. “Ascendants’ grace, nobody will see us arrive. The last thing we need is to encounter any of those haughty highborn.” Raid looked at her, his brow raised a finger-width. He deserved a slap to the face for that sarcastic smile, but she settled for imagining it.

“Don’t see why you’re even fretting over it,” he said. “The High Law protects you just as it protects them. They’re not immune to it.”

Seyleen walked up to him, then poked his chest roughly with her finger. “You are who I’m worried about. You and Bale are only here as guests. If the other highborn don’t agree to it, they’ll kill you, and the law will be on their side.”

He poked her back on the shoulder. “We aren’t so frail as you seem to believe, lass. I won’t be getting my ass kicked by some prissy snob.”

“They are all adepts; they have all been trained for over a decade at the best academies; they all belong to a class that values personal strength above all else,” she said. “How exactly are you going to handle that?”

“Same way I killed eight of them during the Burning of Maedan.” He shrugged. “I’ll just be more careful and not aim at their vitals. Happy?”

“Ecstatic. Now, shut up.”

“That an order?”

“It is,” she said. Raid chuckled with amusement but stayed quiet afterwards. She sighed. Her nerves were getting to her. She should have taken hold of the conversation much sooner. “Regardless of your particular skills…” She cast a glare at Raid, daring him to say something; he just raised his hands defensively. “Don’t act carelessly. We can’t risk it. If I were an adept, there would be other options.” She clenched her left hand. “Well, we all wish for things we don’t have. Hopefully, we still have time.”

“We’d have had more time if someone didn’t mess up our flight schedule,” Raid said quietly; loud enough for everyone to hear though.

She gave him a chilling glare.

“What?” he said. “It’s common knowledge that you can’t go from the undersurface directly to the oversurface.”

It’s not obvious, she thought bitterly. The scheduling had been her job. She’d done it terribly, but that didn’t mean he had to rub it in. “We’re here, aren’t we? Now instead of tossing out blame, fix that void-forsaken tie!”

Bale and Raid busied themselves inspecting each other’s attire. At least one of them can wear it right, she thought. They then moved on to ensuring their weapons – pistols; and daggers in Bale’s case – were easily accessible.

Wicker stood to the side, observing the surroundings for anyone approaching. With some luck, it’ll end with just him being needlessly cautious. No one should come this way, right?

Seyleen took a deep breath. She smoothed her hair, then her golden-rimmed white suit. Her attire, her expression, her stance, and her aura, she wouldn’t allow anyone the pleasure of finding a single fault in them. Everything had to be perfect.

She patted her hip where her pistol was usually holstered; the foreign emptiness and lack of weight kept drawing her attention.

Wicker had gifted it to her for her fifteenth birthday – a silly and useless thing; too few bullets and it didn’t even pack a punch. Her father had gotten her a better one a month later. She had held it exactly two times: that day in front of him, and when she had accidentally found it in some forgotten corner of her room. She had already had a functional one after all.

Wicker’s she had carried always and had only tucked it away inside a drawer on her nightstand for this trip. The other highborn would eat me alive for needing a weapon when I already have guards.

Seyleen led the group along a winding path. Nine years was a long time, and the gardens had changed to reflect that. But among the unfamiliar, she spotted just enough to match the places with those in her memories. As they went further in, she found more and more similarities. Some she recognised almost instantly.

The verdant islands had remained largely the same. They still slept in the shade of oaks and maples, the expanse of green dappled with the red, pink, and white of fallen leaves. She had had picnics there with her parents every week, and they had always chosen a different island.

Sculptures and fountains, inlaid with gold and silver, still stood at the centres of larger pockets between these islands. She had used those to find her way around the gardens, back when she had taken walks with her father. She had been proud to be the one to lead for a change.

Encircling those pockets, marble benches crouched in the shade of trees near flowerbeds in full bloom, whose sweet scent permeated the entire garden. She had stayed from morning to evening with her father there, reading book after book.

Before the sorrow could swallow her, Seyleen pushed the memories back into the far corners of her mind. She turned her attention to the others around her.

Raid stared unblinkingly all around him, clearly mesmerised by the sight. It’s no wonder. He was a starship captain and he had spent most of his time off-duty in the undersurface, where no trees grew, and gardens were an abstract concept – or so Wicker had said. Where would he have seen such beauty?

Bale, on the other hand, walked calmly, showing little emotion on his face, staring, not at, but through the gardens into whatever memory or feeling they had evoked in him.

Members of the military, high rank or not, didn’t have many, or any, chances to visit the oversurface, and no other place in the Kingdom had a comparable outer beauty, except the palace gardens. A Val Tairi would have likely seen those at least once. Seyleen’s eyes lingered on the man for a while longer. Is he really one of them?

Nearing the end of the gardens, she spotted a group of people in the distance by one of the libraries; highborn, each followed by two of the White Guard. Several of those highborn turned their heads in her direction.

“Don’t dawdle,” she said. “Stick out and you’re inviting trouble.”

“It might be too late for that, ma’am,” Wicker said, discreetly pointing behind her.

Seyleen turned around just in time to see a woman striding towards them. The loosely intertwining pieces of satin silk making up her dress fluttered behind her. Five guards in heavy, white armour followed on her tail.

“Sey!” the woman shouted.

“Dal’wan?” Seyleen said, stupefied. She hadn’t prepared herself for meeting any of her friends. She needed more time for that; more time to decide how to best approach them. Did she want their help with her revenge? She did, but that stood a footnote before the question of their friendship. And if she couldn’t have that, it’d be enough if they still cherished the time they had spent together.

Dal’wan approached the group, arms spread in greeting. Then she stopped just a few steps away and lowered her arms with disappointment. “You’re too stiff, Sey.”

“It’s been nine years.”

“Doesn’t change much in my books. You’re still the same.”

The group of highborn in the distance were throwing more glances at them now. Void take them, I don’t have time for this.

“You are listening to me, right?” Dal’wan said. “I know that look. Don’t you dare ditch me.”

“I just have a lot on my plate. Maybe we can catch up some other time.”

“No,” Dal’wan said. “With everything that’s going on you shouldn’t be alone. Dad misses you as well. Garrin and Vahlin too. Don’t you think you should at least let them see your face after so long?”

“I will.” Seyleen glanced at the highborn group again. They were definitely paying more attention now. “But later.”

“Sey,” Dal’wan said. “Uncle Kentor was like a father to me. I understand the pain. We’re all saddened, but don’t close yourself off like that.”

“I’m not.”

“No? Then you can explain to me why you’re a nervous wreck and avoiding that group behind me. Oh.” Dal’wan looked at Bale and Raid as if she’d just noticed them. “You brought in groundfolk?” She frowned. “…don’t tell me they’re lowborn?”

“They’re my guests. Now, if you would?”

“They’re pests. You should know as much, but it seems time spent in the Kingdom did change you.” Dal’wan took a step back. “I can already surmise you’re putting your head in where it doesn’t belong. You should be doing everything in your power to establish yourself here, not digging around in the dirt.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you? Do you know how many attacks on you my father thwarted?” They’ve already started, then. “So, you’re at least you’re aware of the danger. I’m guessing part of you was counting on our help. If so, then earn it.”

“I can handle things just fine,” Seyleen said. “I have always considered your help a welcome possibility, not a requirement to do what I need to.”

Dal’wan stared at her for several seconds, then slowly opened her mouth. “Lendrin.”

Seyleen froze. Her eyes darted towards Wicker, then back to Dal’wan. House Lendrin was a variable that would mess up all her plans. She couldn’t deal with them alone. I lost. “What’s the catch?”

“Dad is hosting a party in two weeks. Be there and bring Wicker with you. Simple, isn’t it?”

Jumping into a pit of vipers naked and bound would be more pleasant. But there was no choice. She had to go, and she had to be ready for it. “I’ll be there.”

Seyleen turned away and stalked off towards the path to her mansion, leaving Dal’wan smiling contentedly. The rest of her group followed wordlessly behind her. At least they have the wits not to ask anything, she thought. More importantly, she had to start making plans.