Forty days after the imperial ambassador’s murder.

Mansion of House Trianos, Tower of Records in the oversurface of Radaar, 3423 AA.

The lively buzz of chatter undulated as guests of varied import arrived at the moonlit garden. Seyleen’s arrival had brought a brief lull to the noise, but it had sparked again moments later. At least she could affect them. She could work with that. Indifference was far more difficult to overcome.

She took a sip of champagne, then cast her gaze over the venue. A frown settled on her face. After a decade on Ascion, where there was no oversurface, and witnessing the squalor of the undersurface, the opulence she had once considered the norm became a garish sight. Gilded ornaments, gold and silver tableware, sculptures inlaid with jewels – all a meaningless show of affluence, serving no purpose but to look pretty.

Her mind conjured the massive halls and the exquisite gardens of her mansion. Was she not also guilty of those meaningless displays? No, that’s different. While her mansion was also well-decorated, it boasted a simplicity seldom found in the oversurface.

Keeping the rim of her glass level with her mouth, she said, “Did you find them?”

Wicker stepped forwards to stand beside her. “I’ve found Sir Trianos, but not a shadow of Lady Dal’wan, or Sir Gavin.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Her friends would have to wait. Their talk was long overdue, but Seyleen had another quarry tonight. “Lead the way.”

Bathed in the soft glow of white-and-pink lights pearled along overhanging lines, knots of highborn engaged merrily in the latest gossip and business deals alike. Seyleen and Wicker wove their way between these groups, catching titbits of various conversations in the process. The smiles and laughter were a sickening sight to her. Beneath the pink aura of cheerfulness the highborn affected, there stood cold and calculating minds, which dissected any piece of information, scrutinising it for something they might use.

After a minute of wading through the crowd, Seyleen found her quarry.

Trianos stood some hundred steps away from her, conversing with four people, all heads of their Houses. It wasn’t something she could easily intrude upon, even if she was heir to Great House Mannock. Moreover, to get information about her father, she first needed to get Trianos alone. I’ll need to distract them with something.

Rumours spread the fastest at these events, so House Alierin would be the best to approach. The House that held an enterprise in media and owned almost all the media megacorporations was chock-full of gossipers.

Scanning the crowd, she spotted a group of five, two men she didn’t recognise and three women – the latter a trio of cousins from House Alierin. They’ll do.

Taking a second glass of champagne off a tray carried by one of the waiters, Seyleen headed their way. Once she got closer, she recognised one of the two men – Vahlin Caldor: Gavin’s cousin, and one of those who had turned their backs on her all those years ago.

He, Gavin, Dal’wan, and Seyleen had spent time together regularly before the incident with the Tether Stone. Vahlin never came again afterwards. Gavin either played the fool or dodged Seyleen’s probing questions, so she went looking for her friend. The look Vahlin gave her when she found him, the way he forced his gaze away and bit his lip, and the ensuing silence scarred her heart like words never could.

Twenty years had passed since then.

There were still traces of the taciturn kid in the man’s features, but likely no more than that – certainly not on the inside. Now he stood with the same Alierins he had once tauntingly called tattletales.

Joining their circle, Seyleen said, “A fine evening, is it not?”

Their conversation ceased.

Scorn flashed across the women’s faces, then resplendent smiles blossomed on them instead. Even the skin around the women’s eyes wrinkled in a perfect guise of joy. How many hours had those three spent practicing in front of a mirror?

The intention of a frown pulled down on Seyleen’s brows, but she quickly schooled her expression – it was as much as she would allow of her disgust to slip past the veil. Fake. All of it.

A pang of guilt came next, twisting the corner of her lip. It took more effort to conceal that. Fake as the rest of them were, she was no better. She had to stoop to their level to play this game.

One of the women said, “Lady Mannock, what a pleasant surprise. We were almost certain you weren’t coming. After such a horrible fate befell Sir Mannock…”

Seyleen bit the inner side of her lip, suppressing a scowl. Translation: You dared show up here? You’re nothing without your daddy. “Despite the terrible event, I still wished to pay my respects to Sir Trianos. It is only right that a Mannock come.”

“It warms my heart to hear your spirits are as strong as I remember them.”

Translation: Putting up a front? Pathetic. You’re as fragile as you always were. “Of course. And in honour of that…” She handed her second glass to the man standing beside Vahlin.

While turmoil swam in his eyes, those of the Alierin cousins bulged with surprise.

No act was devoid of intention among the highborn. Every word, every gesture, and every look, they all carried meaning. Accepting a glass could mean an alliance – that was what the trio understood. Refusing one would show hostility – a natural choice considering how the highborn viewed Seyleen, but the man couldn’t risk it now. He’ll think I’ve got dirt on him.

For all their disdain of her, the highborn were familiar with how she played this game. Seyleen Mannock always had an ace up her sleeve in any discussion.

The man took her glass. Just as planned. She had nothing on him, but bluffs were also a way to play.

A silence. The whole group was reassessing the situation.

Riddles like these muddled the mind. It was the perfect time to strike. While a veil of confusion blanketed the highborn, words spoken with certainty would gain much weight in importance.

“Have you seen anyone from Houses Obenin and Savaren?” Seyleen said. “I wished to offer my congratulations.”

“Obenin and… Savaren?” one of the women asked carefully.

Seyleen tilted her head, putting on a perplexed expression. “Is something the matter?”

The women exchanged confused glances with each other. The two Houses were known to despise one another. Few knew, however, that that had been a front. Seyleen had wrested that information out of one of the many highborn she had met with before the party.

“It appears we’ve been left out of the loop. Was there such a joyous occasion?”

“Perhaps you’ve merely forgotten. It’s stale news after all.” Seyleen waved a dismissing hand. “I’ve been away when it happened. I was glad to hear they have settled their differences. If only partially.”

A mirthless smile graced the trio’s faces. “Of course. If you’ll excuse us, we should offer greetings to several more people before we retire for the night.”

Perfect. “Yes, I must be going as well. I wish you all a pleasant day.”

Just as Seyleen turned, a voice from behind stopped her.

“Gavin didn’t come tonight,” Vahlin said, waving the other man away.

She swivelled her head, staring at him over her shoulder. “He must have been occupied. I’m glad at least someone from House Caldor managed to come.”

“Why did you leave?”

Words blossomed in her mind, forming the perfect answer that would reveal nothing and entrap the man in his thoughts until she left – like the perfect highborn. Her mouth twisted in disgust, and she strangled those words. “I wanted something… real. Not this parade of masks.”

“Do you hate them – the masks?”

“I do.” She left after that.

Her steps slowing once she reached a clearing, Seyleen dropped her gaze to the stone-tiled ground. Vahlin’s words echoed in her head.

Hate the masks? She chuckled ruefully. The times when she could be without her mask were what she cherished the most. Despite that, she couldn’t imagine her life without it. The teachings of the highborn had ingrained themselves too deeply in her. Becoming allies with Raid and Bale had been a product of manipulation, and she would gladly do it again. What did that say about her?

A hypocrite – that’s what I am.

The laughter of nearby groups of highborn snapped her out of her thoughts.

She took a deep breath. The chilly night air calmed her. Stay focused.

She cast her gaze across the crowd and spotted the heir of House Kalthon by a food table – alone. Quick to anger, he’d serve as a perfect distraction. Prolonged speech and thinly veiled insults should rile him up enough.

Walking towards her next target, Seyleen tried to keep her gaze straight ahead, but it proved to be impossible. Her eyes always headed to and trailed down the highborn’s arms, drawn by the black pyramidal stone, forcing her to recall the brief time it had graced her hand as well. The few who didn’t have it were Awakened, and perhaps the ones she envied the most.

She folded her arms under her chest, palms tightly pressed against her forearms. The Tether stones were a grim reminder of her most glaring weakness – the reason she thought herself a patch of darkness among the glittering lights.

She sighed. The Gift would forever remain foreign to her, there was no changing that. It was better to focus on the present and the things she had control over. Turning her head towards Trianos, she noticed two House heads had left. Just two more.

She ambled over to the Kalthon heir, placed her hand gently on his shoulder, then flanked him. “Sir Kalthon.” Tapping her index finger on her chin, she feigned an indecisive stare as she peered over the assortment of various confections.

“Lady Mannock. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Without taking her eyes off the delicacies on display, she said, “It is only proper for me to greet one of the future leaders of Radaar. I apologise for not coming sooner. I was held up by several acquaintances and only noticed you a few moments ago.”

The man’s eye twitched, and the corners of his lips curled downwards. “It is of no concern. Please think nothing of it.”

“Thank you for your understanding. Truly it has been a hectic night.” Pulling out a handkerchief, she dabbed non-existent sweat off her forehead. “It would appear I have been away for so long that I have forgotten how these events tend to go.”

“Please do not worry yourself over it. Now, if you will excuse me—”

“Sir Kalthon.” She turned towards him. “You should take more care tonight. I heard House Alierin has been quite active.”

The man flinched. There was nothing that could grab a Kalthon’s full attention like mentioning an Alierin. The Houses were focused on different spheres – one entertainment, the other politics – but a conflict between their heirs some years ago had created a feud that had lasted to this day.

House Alierin had ample means to make a person’s life difficult – and they had.

“Perchance, could you elaborate?”

“Should I?”

His eye twitched again. Wasting time was another good method to rile the man up. Almost there. “Indulge me.”

She leaned in close and whispered the names of the Alierin cousins, the name of a certain case Kalthon was working on, and for good measure tossed in a mention of House Jiffron – the bitter rivals of this man’s House.

Kalthon’s eyes widened, and his cheeks turned crimson, the man’s face twisted into an expression of pure rage. “Those void-forsaken depth crawlers!” He stormed off towards the crowd.

It’s a good thing I got that info on the case he’s invested the most credits in. She waited for a minute, then glanced towards Trianos. There was only him and another House head in that group now.

“Lady Mannock!” a familiar voice called out behind Seyleen.

When she turned around, she first spotted the heir of House Adrac. Next to him was Karn Hessinor, the man she had thought she was done with.

She held back a frown. Void take him. What’s he doing here? “Sir Hessinor. Sir Adrac. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“After our conversation the other day, I truly felt the oversurface has wronged you.” Hessinor draped his arm around the other man’s shoulder. “I was just telling my friend here about it. He wished to share a few words with you.”

Adrac said, “Indeed, Lady Mannock. I only heard the best things about you. I would be a fool to miss this chance to converse with a wise woman such as yourself.”

She gritted her teeth, her eyes glinting with fury. “Truly?” Forcing a smile on her lips, she raised her glass to her mouth and took a sip.

Hessinor. She shouldn’t have waited. She should have buried him the first day and been done with it. From the grin on his damnable face, she could tell the wretch hadn’t given her any useful information on Adrac.

Maybe I should give up on this one. That was the safest option, but there was too little time left. The other heads might have left to deal with issues sprouting from the gossip she had spread, but that wouldn’t last.

If only I could ask someone for help… She suppressed a scoff. Who’d want to help me?

Glancing past the two men, she spotted a head of grey hair tied into a bun and a wrinkled face she’d recognise anywhere. Tiegwin. The old bat was smart enough to figure the situation out in moments. She could solve this mess. But she’d slap a big debt on me.

Seyleen’s eyes drifted towards Trianos again. There was still only House Adrac’s head with him. There’s no time. Tightening her grip on her glass, she returned the old woman’s stare.

Tiegwin smirked, bade farewell to the rest of her group, then headed this way.

“Perhaps we will have a chance to speak more later, Sir Adrac,” Seyleen said. “It would appear you have another requiring your attention.”

“Pardon?” Following her gaze, the man turned around and froze.

Seyleen took the chance to slip away. As she strode towards Trianos, House Adrac’s head noticed his son’s distress and rushed to the young man’s aid. Only he could deal with Tiegwin after all.

Seyleen grinned.

It was high time she spoke with Trianos.