Camellia sighed. She and her friends scrambled to get ready for Regle’s ball. Regle proclaimed that the ball would increase camaraderie among the Lurrien liberation force, and he sprung it on everyone mere hours before its start.

Camellia didn’t need to build camaraderie. That is to say, she knew and trusted most of the team. As for the rest, she knew where she stood. Adalhard was the exception.

“What should I wear?” Eva asked, frowning in Camellia’s doorway.

Camellia barely glanced up. “The best you have.”

Camellia slipped into a full skirt of white and gold. She snatched up a matching corset and struggled to do up the back. When Camellia finished dressing, her outfit would be the spitting image of the ball gown she wore in her first Obsidian Mirror dream, nearly two decades ago. Years after her dream, Camellia had commissioned the dress because...Camellia didn’t know why. Probably because she was sick and needed Adalhard’s therapist.

Camellia got the corset semi-tight when she noticed Eva still standing in the doorway. “Please help,” she begged. “Lace me?”

Eva approached and laced up the back so fast that Camellia couldn’t believe it had been done, or that her breathing remained so uninterrupted.

“Now, you help me,” Eva said.

“Of course.” Camellia followed Eva into her room on the Halfmoon.

Clothes were strewn across the bed. Camellia could see a clear divide between pieces Eva had always owned and recent acquisitions from her morning shopping trip, courtesy of Meladee. The numerous, new items gleamed, while the few, old things lay a bit dingy.

Eva swept her hands over the mess. “What should it be?”

Camellia searched the shades of brown, forest green, and deep blue. She lifted dresses to see what lay underneath.

“Hey, when you’re done here, you’ve got to help me,” Meladee said from the doorway.

Camellia glanced back.

Meladee stood in her underwear.

Camellia sighed. “Can’t you just get into your best dress?”

“No, I’m afraid that new thing I bought is too flashy, but now that I see this gold and white thing you’ve got on, I’m starting to think not.” Meladee left, and as she did, she called, “I’ll just start getting into it.”

“Good,” Camellia called back.

She faced Eva’s clothes again. She evaluated them as fashion pieces, but she also saw the Lurrien specimens as artifacts, a window into ancient Lurren.

Camellia gasped. She pulled a gown of off-white lace from the bottom of the pile. The piece was old and a bit unusual for Eva’s practical wardrobe. The long skirt was soft, with a hint of fullness. The neckline was high and the sleeves long. The dress served as mouthpiece for bygone eras.

“Eva, this is...so beautiful. This is the one.” She handed the dress to Eva.

“But, its reminiscent of Lurrien wedding gowns,” Eva objected. “Actually, it is a wedding gown.”

Camellia stroked the dress with reverence. “Oh...who’s?”

Eva said, “I don’t know.”

“Eva. In Groaza, any full skirted gown with sufficient finery is a wedding gown.” Camellia gestured to her white and gold ball gown, with its shimmery threads and filmy sleeves. “We’re all wearing wedding gowns to this party. And, we’ll wear wedding gowns to every Groazan ball to follow.” Camellia pushed the old dress more firmly into Eva’s hands.

Eva accepted it with the same reverence that Camellia had handled it.

“Do you need help getting in?”

“No, go help Meladee.” Eva laid the dress on the bed.

Camellia walked across the hall and knocked on Meladee’s doorframe. She could see right in, but she knocked just the same.

“So, I really like blue.” Meladee turned around. Her gown sparkled, had no sleeves, and a neckline that plunged off the shoulders.

Camellia’s mouth dropped open.

“It’s too much,” Meladee said.

“No, no. It just really glitters, and the top is a bit... You bought that in Groaza?” Camellia asked.

“Yeah, well, I bought it in a shop called Taste of Tagtrum, so....” Meladee shrugged. She pointed at Camellia. “Your’s is shiny too.”

“Oh, I know. It’s just more...austere.” Camellia looked down at her dress, only to be greeted by the sight of her own breasts, bare on the top. She blushed and looked back up.

“I know. I’ve been dying to know what kind of bra you wear with these dressy things. I can’t imagine anything goes under that.” Meladee started to fiddle with the back of her dress.

“No, don’t take it off!” Camellia rushed forward and grabbed Meladee’s hand. “You should wear it, and you still have to do your hair.”

Meladee froze. “Excuse me? I’m just gonna brush it.”

“I meant jewelry.” Camellia pointed at her own head.

Meladee slid the dress back into place and closed it up. “I can’t wear hair jewelry. I don’t have flowing locks, or haven’t you noticed?” Meladee grabbed her sandy blond hair, which, while fluffy, even a bit frizzy, fell straight from the top of her head to her shoulders.

“Alright, other jewelry then,” Camellia said.

“What are you going to wear for jewelry?” Meladee rummaged through a small box. She pulled out a necklace of fluttering butterflies and a bracelet made of blue globes.

“I have it memorized. I always wear the same things with my fancy dresses. It makes this whole process easier.” Camellia walked down the hall to her room. She heard the swish of Meladee’s full skirt behind her. Camellia reached her bed. Laid out were two hairpins and a choker. Camellia put on the choker. Sparkling white jewels paired with a dull, almost brassy finish. Then, she brushed her hair and pinned a white camellia blossom and gold orchid on the left side. She turned to Meladee. “Finished.”

“Nice. In my defense, I’ve never worn this thing before. Just bought it.” Meladee finagled her bracelet into place and turned to leave Camellia’s room.

“I do not possess conventional jewelry,” Eva announced, fully dressed. She blocked the door.

“What’s that?” Meladee pointed.

A hot-air balloon pendant twinkled around Eva’s neck.

“It was my makers’.”

“It belonged to Cereus Dyelan?” Camellia walked closer and peered at the small pendant, blue and brown and glowing.

Eva nodded.

“And, what’s that?” Meladee asked again.

She made a face as she pointed to a tiara, atop Eva’s silky red hair. The crown was formed of insect wings.

“Ick.” Meladee recoiled. “Is that something you owned or something you pulled together in seconds from windshield debris?”

Camellia stifled a laugh. “Those look real, Eva.”

“They are. And, not from the windshield. Not ours at least.” Eva removed the winged tiara. “I could go without. I merely wore it to satisfy the hair jewelry requirement that I overheard you argue about.”

Camellia agreed, “I think it’s fine to go without hair jewelry.”

A little while later, the women struggled down Halfmoon’s small elevator, taking the trip one at a time. Camellia volunteered to go first. She gathered her skirt in her hands and tried not to brush any stray oil or mechanical grease. She arrived with every inch of her shimmering gown intact. Eva’s descent went the smoothest, as her skirt was the slimmest. Meladee really struggled, with her large, unfamiliar skirt, but she made it. When they arrived at Halfmoon’s open hatch, they found Commander Rooks waiting for them.

“I feel exceptionally underdressed.” Rooks stood, silhouetted in the hatchway, wearing her dress uniform. Her blue uniform was long in the back, but cut away in the front. A couple of medals gleamed from her breast. Her curly hair rested around her shoulders, a change from her regular up-do.

“It’s very appropriate,” Camellia promised. “And, expected.”

“Easier to move in too,” Meladee grumbled.

Rooks adjusted her uniform. “I suppose so, but just once, I’d like to try one of those ballgowns.”

“Can’t pee in them,” Meladee warned. “We have to follow a dehydration protocol. I haven’t drunk anything since lunch ‘cause I hate needing assistance to use the bathroom.”

Rooks gave her a hard stare. “When you faint, we’re going to have to get you out of that thing anyway.”

Meladee smirked. “If I’m unconscious, it’s not my problem.”

“Being sick and dehydrated is.” Camellia recalled too many times she had felt sick from heat, lack of water, or strong sunlight. Nausea and wooziness colored the memories.

“In the case of unconscious patients, my doctors just cut people out of their clothes,” Rooks added, with a smirk of her own.

Meladee turned pale, almost as pale as Camellia.

“Sten.” Eva pointed across the capitol’s lawn.

Camellia turned her attention to the darkening green.

Alim, Sten, and Benham walked across. On the steps of the capitol building, Camellia saw Adalhard, dressed in deep red and brown.

“Ready men?” Rooks called to the approaching group. While she waited for an answer, she searched the green, probably looking for her Girandolan officers and soldiers.

Camellia searched too and saw a crowd of them by the capitol steps, waiting for their Commander. Few of them had dates, but every Groazan, Tagtrumian, and Ponk warrior did. The Iruedian members of the force did not wait for Rooks but, instead, entered the capitol at their discretion.

Alim, Sten, and Benham arrived.

Sten smiled. “We are as ready as we can be for a fanciful ball set in a magical land.” He wore a modest, well-cut outfit of silver. His wide eyes betrayed a hint of wonder.

Alim wore his work clothes, minus the lab coat and plus a formal Girandolan jacket.

Benham had borrowed a Groazan coat of blue. He had nothing of his own fit for the occasion. Benham touched the edges of his coat. “Your friend, Cernunnos, gave me some help. I still don’t feel ready for this party, but no one’s going to stare at me if I stick near Meladee.” Benham gave Meladee an appreciative gaze and strolled to her side. He offered his arm.

She rolled her eyes and took his offer. “Using me as a shield is pretty low.”

Benham looked at Meladee’s chest but not with admiration. Instead, he seemed confused. “I bought you a very nice present from Caelem. You didn’t want to wear it?”

Meladee grew quiet. Though they remained arm in arm, the tension between Meladee and Benham returned.

Camellia could kick herself. She’d forgotten to ask about them.

Should I call on my telepathic abilities and ask her now? No, that would be beyond rude. Just like my father.

The others walked on ahead, all except Alim.

“You alright?” He offered his arm.

Camellia froze, and her stomach lost all desire for food. Her head felt light and airy. “Alim. You know I can’t take your arm. I don’t want to lead you on.” Camellia looked at the ground. “I’m very sorry. I want you to be happy here on Iruedim, but that’s not with me.”

Alim stepped away. “Fine. I guess I won’t offer again.” His footsteps retreated.

“I’m sorry,” Camellia said quietly.

She bet Alim never heard. He was halfway to the capitol building, and Adalhard had disappeared from the steps.

It would serve me right – if I end up entirely alone. Camellia escorted herself to the party.

“Uh oh,” Benham whispered in Meladee’s ear. “Alim’s alone.”

“I told you she likes Adalhard. She always has,” Meladee whispered back.

She searched the room for the head of the AAH. He stood by Cernunnos. Cernunnos viewed all the women, but especially Rooks.

What a womanizer. Camellia, was damn right about him.

Inside the gothic hall, the entire mission of sixty soldiers, three archaeologists, three mages, three specialists, and of course, Commander Rooks, were present. Several of Rooks’ officers also attended as they would fly to Lurren. Regle and the military directors escorted their wives.

Meladee looked around some more and saw that every Iruedian had a date. None of the Girandolans had dates, but they did have dancing partners, provided by Regle. Dozens of Iruedian men and women entertained the foreign soldiers.

Meladee watched as a couple snuck out into the public garden, accessible through the ballroom’s open archways. A darkened patio held back the encroaching trees and shrubs. Meladee didn’t plan to go out there. Not tonight. Tonight, she would eat and dance, and avoid private time with Benham at all costs.

“Poor Alim. I feel bad for him. Come to think of it. I’ve been wondering if I should feel bad for me. You seem distant lately.” Benham put his hand on his chest. “Have I done something wrong?”

“No,” Meladee answered in ill temper.

She had. She hid behind Rooks’ lie about the silence spell.

Benham sighed. “So, what did I do?”

“Nothing. I just get pissed in fancy clothes. I should have worn less.” Meladee brushed at her full skirt.

Benham strolled and took her along. “I’m thinking back to when you first started acting like this. And, honestly, I can’t understand why. I can’t think of anything I did.”

Meladee rubbed her head. “Fine. I’ll tell you. I’d rather not play this stupid game anyway.” Meladee patted his arm. “Now, Benham. I like you. But, you’re so serious about this whole thing.”

“Leaving Girandola to fight a giant creature that has infected a whole continent?”

“No, me and you,” Meladee answered through gritted teeth as if talking about this stuff brought her genuine pain. “I don’t like serious. I like to keep things light.”

Especially when Meladee found herself at the center of a lie. Rooks might have saved them from the ire of her crew, regarding the silence spell, but she put Meladee in a tough position. Benham thought Meladee remained innocent and open. She didn’t. She silenced him hard, and she meant it. Now, she needed to wait to tell him, till they could look back and laugh. It was just as well. Benham set a fast pace – too fast.

Benham got quiet. “You’re upset because I’m serious about you? I’m baffled. I just...it’s always been the opposite for me. Women are upset that I’m not serious enough.”

Benham looked at Meladee.

She avoided his eyes and stared straight ahead, still holding his arm.

Benham spoke low. “You’re the first person I’ve liked enough for this.”

“We haven’t known each other that long.” Meladee frowned.

No one had ever called her special before, with the exception of Rime Breaker’s surgeon. She didn’t like feeling special. At least, maybe she didn’t. In favor of specialness, her mind called up a memory. Faustina the woman – not the ship – had traveled the world with her husband. They were special to each other. Though her time with Faustina was short, Meladee thought of Faustina as the happiest pilot-sailor she had ever met.

Meladee sighed. “I want you to...move slower. Real slow. Like that movie you showed me where they run like they’re underwater.” Meladee pantomimed running slow, but only with her upper body. The rest of her lay beneath the folds of several skirts.

Benham laughed half-heartedly. “Alright, slow motion. But, just so you know – I’ll get tired eventually. When I can start moving at regular speed, let me know.” Benham grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the food table.

Eva avoided the food table. Music played in the background. Always quiet, the melodies alternated between fast and slow. At the moment, the music played fast.

“It appears that everyone is matched off.” Sten observed dancers twirl around the floor. “I’ve always been curious about dancing, but the Syndicate doesn’t host that kind of party. Do you dance, Eva?

“No. Waste of time.” Eva gazed at the dancers with steely eyes.

Sten’s eyes widened. “I see. Would you be willing to experiment with me? There is no other way for us to spend our time here.”

“I’d rather not experiment at this time.” Eva never planned to dance, but she let him have his fantasy.

“Very well. I will ask you again in fifteen minutes.”

When Sten said he would ask in fifteen minutes, Eva knew that he meant a precise fifteen minutes. Like so many synthetics, he had an internal body clock, which he called on to make time estimations as well as keep track of the hour. When an internal body clock became off-timed or ceased to function, many synthetics experienced a sense of pervasive confusion. Eva had asked Sten about this, and he replied that he found it somewhat disorienting but never had trouble adjusting the clock. A long time ago, Chrysanthos had given Eva the same answer. Eva lacked an internal body clock. She used to think it contributed to her difference from other synthetics, but after meeting both Sten and Chrysanthos, Eva suspected it didn’t.

“Eva…?” Sten began.

He had better not ask me to dance. It’s only been forty-five seconds.

“Evangeline Dyelan,” Cloch interrupted. The Groazan military leader led his wife forward.

She trailed after her husband, looking dazzled by the beautiful dancers.

“Yes?” Eva both asked and answered.

“Tell me about your landing site. Lurren is covered by this creature, and yet the beach is open for landing?” Cloch questioned.

His wife tore her eyes from the ball to listen to Eva’s answer.

“The southeast beach remains clear of the creature as well as some other southern areas,” Eva said. “We can land on the beach and not see any creature flesh for an approximate day’s walk. Or, we can land closer to the bunker. It should also be clear.”

“Isn’t the creature bothered by cold weather? Why doesn’t it grow to cover these places?” Cloch asked.

“It’s trying but can’t reach yet. Some areas, the creature leaves clear, and we don’t understand why. It may be that it grows underground. Someday, I imagine that the water will be a preferred habitat.” Eva pretended that she hadn’t already seen tentacles in the southern sea.

She’d kept the information to herself – a long time now. She didn’t want to alarm Camellia or Meladee, especially since it seemed unchangeable. Now, it didn’t matter because they would kill Ul’thetos before it reached much farther.

“Oh, I agree,” Sten said. “I believe water is an important part of the creatures’ life cycle. Their morphology suggests a preference for watery habitats, especially in their youth. It is to Iruedim’s fortune that the creatures have been forced onto land.”

Cloch’s wife gaped. “Isn’t there water in Suen?”

Cloch patted her hand. “Yes, but we don’t have to be worried about that one right now.”

“From what I remember of Suen,” Eva began. “It had a large natural lake and one made by the natives. I don’t recall if it had a coast. Of course, the location would be ideal for Ah’nee’thit, even in the absence of a coast.”

Sten took over, “Yes, if released, it could begin growing beyond the confines of the temple, with much of that growth occurring underground.”

“That would keep the limbs moist.” Eva nodded.

“Indeed. Then, the limbs might start poking through the ground around residences and public buildings.” Sten stroked his chin and stared into space.

Eva grabbed his thread and ran with it. “If that happened, Ah’nee’thit would need to make automatons to bring water to the surfaced limbs, which is why the location is so ideal.”

Sten’s eyes lit up. “The two large lakes would act as a reservoir.”

Cloch’s wife covered her mouth, but she quickly removed it and drew breath to speak.

Cloch pulled his wife away, speaking as he went. “We won’t trouble you with any more logistics. Enjoy your evening.” To his wife, he whispered, “Don’t get worried about this. It’s all speculative.”

Eva watched them go.

“That was our mistake. Our description was too graphic for our audience.”

Eva frowned. “They shouldn’t ask questions that they don’t want answers too.”

Sten grabbed Eva’s wrist. “Will you experiment with me and dance? Please, Eva. It’s better than terrifying the other guests.”

Eva looked around. She heard conversations and saw dancers and diners. If she didn’t dance, she would have to talk. If she didn’t talk, someone might insist she eat. If she didn’t eat, she would have to become a statue in the corner and risk social exclusion at later dates.

Like the dancers on the floor, Eva put her hand on Sten’s shoulder. “Very well.”

Sten smiled.

Camellia sighed and entered the ballroom. She felt composed enough.

She spotted Meladee and Benham headed to the food table, ready to explore the Groazan buffet. To the left, Sten and Eva fielded questions. Nearby, Adalhard spoke to the Ferrans. Both Texitlers dressed in magically embroidered clothes of purple. Cernunnos crossed the floor to Commander Rooks. Camellia winced but trusted Commander Rooks to handle him. Finally, she saw Alim, speaking to a couple of Girandolan soldiers. He seemed miserable. He even shot her a few annoyed looks.

Camellia drifted towards the garden. She stopped beneath a gothic arch and faced the outdoors, on the verge of the patio.

Behind Camellia, the conversation faded into the background, and music played. She peered outside and enjoyed a breeze.

“So…”

Camellia turned to find Commander Rooks beside her.

“You were right about him. He’s very determined. He’s already learned a few words of Ganden.” Rooks leaned on one of the pillars and looked beyond the patio. “I’m thinking of making my escape.”

“Out there?” Camellia asked.

“Yes, but then...what message would that send to our fighting force?” Rooks put a hand on her chest in mock drama. “If I can’t handle this…this…”

“Romantically aggressive man?” Camellia suggested.

Rooks gave a short nod. “Thank you. That’s the perfect term. If I can’t handle this romantically aggressive man, how can I handle a monster that invades minds?”

“I believe in you...whether or not you stick around and let Cernunnos drool over you. He can be difficult.” Camellia longed to escape into the garden herself, but she couldn’t. Her dress would become caught in the flora, and she would be more its prisoner out there than in the ballroom.

“By the way, when all of this is done, we’ve agreed to start an Iruedian space navy. I get to command it.” Rooks smiled and stood straight. “And, we’ll teach Groazans, Tagtrumians, and Ponk to serve with us. Hopefully, some others. Your planet isn’t very unified...yet.”

“How did you manage that?” Camellia narrowed her eyes.

Rooks smiled wider. “I’ve got some pretty big bargaining chips.”

Camellia felt her eyes widen. She nodded her agreement. She understood. Rooks referred to the spaceships.

Rooks continued, “Threats and scare tactics aside – I think that Iruedians are keen to get back into space, and I want to help them do that. All of them. I don’t want to pick favorites. The way it’s been set up, I can’t.” Rooks spread her hands.

It was a tough deal. It gave Rooks power but also made her beholden to many other powerful people. Camellia didn’t envy the position, but she thought Rooks could do it. Briefly, Camellia wondered if Rooks had found a better deal with Iruedim than she’d had with the Finial. Did Rooks feel she’d made the right choice?

Rooks stared out into the garden. “I have to say. I’ve been to a lot of planets, and there’s something special about Iruedim.”

“Oh?” Camellia looked up at the Commander. “How so?”

Rooks shrugged. “I don’t know how to explain it. Do you have fiction here on Iruedim?”

“Yes, but not as elaborate as the fiction Girandolans create. We don’t have those elaborate movies your people produced, just books and plays.” Camellia relinquished her view of the garden. She faced Rooks and studied the Commander.

Rooks stared far, seeing and yet not seeing. “That’s good enough. When I set foot in Groaza, I felt like I’d walked into some kind of...scary story. No, not scary.” Rooks shook her head. “I don’t have a word for it.”

“Gothic,” Camellia said. “It’s the term for the aesthetic – elaborate design, rich deep colors, often dark. Very black and white.”

Rooks’ eyes widened and filled with understanding. She looked at Camellia. “Yes. Gothic. I’m curious to see what the other countries are like.”

“I’m curious to see what you’ll see in them.”

Camellia stared back into the garden. She thought about the places she’d been. Did they all have a feel? A kind of story that Rooks could fall into? Camellia believed so.

Rooks pushed away from the pillar. “Well, I’m going to return to the dance floor. I won’t escape into the garden tonight.” She headed back into the bright ballroom.

“Good luck,” Camellia called after her.

Camellia didn’t want to return to the party. She faced the patio again. Wind ruffled shadowed leaves, both high and low in the carefully overgrown garden.

Camellia wondered why Alim couldn’t take joy in the planet the way Rooks did. She wondered if he could be happy here, or if she had led him to a fate worse than the one provided by the Finial.

Camellia sighed. She heard new footsteps and felt a warmth at her shoulder. Wondering if Rooks returned, she looked up.

“Dance with me?” asked Adalhard.

Camellia’s lips parted. She stared into his eyes and, then, down to his offered hand.

She glanced into the ballroom and checked on the scene. Nearly every pair danced, filling the space.

Camellia gestured to the full dance floor. “I’m not sure there’s room.”

“Out there then.” Adalhard pointed ahead to the patio and offered his hand again.

Camellia’s heart sped up. But, she took his hand, and they stepped past the arch.

Adalhard steered Camellia to face him and guided her other hand to his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her back and led their dance. He tried to keep eye contact with Camellia, but she looked down.

“I’m sorry if I step on you. I don’t do a lot of dancing,” Camellia said.

“You’re not stepping on my feet.”

Camellia let Adalhard steer her around the floor. She tried to keep up. “You’re...a very good dancer.”

“For the past two years, I’ve had plenty of practice at events like this.” Adalhard nodded to the scene through the archways.

“Oh, who do you dance with?” Camellia glanced up.

In a low voice, Adalhard answered, “Women. Sometimes AAH members, but usually the wives and daughters of scientists and politicians.”

“That’s nice.” Camellia could hear a touch of mourning in her tone. “Do you see them outside of ballrooms?”

“No,” Adalhard said. “Too busy.”

“You or them?”

“Me.”

She stole a glance and found him amused, almost smiling.

Camellia smiled a little too. “They must all be very confused.”

“Oh?”

Camellia felt warm, but she didn’t look away. “They probably think…you’re looking for someone. After all, you don’t have to travel and that’s what every young chair has done before you.”

“They would be right. I am.” Adalhard tightened his grip around Camellia’s waist and drew her closer.

Camellia let him, though his motion threatened to interrupt her precarious grasp on dancing. She lost her smile and looked down as she focused on what her feet had to get done under her giant skirt.

“It’s taking you awhile,” she said. “From what I remember of you, you don’t dilly dally. I’m surprised you didn’t have something lined up.”

“I know,” Adalhard said. “I’ve been picky. This one is supposed to be forever.”

“Hmmm,” Camellia hummed her agreement.

They danced in silence. Camellia settled her eyes around his shoulder level, a comfortable angle for her short view of the world. She missed a few steps, but Adalhard waited for her to recover. They danced on.

Adalhard leaned close. “Camellia, I want you to know – I don’t make it a policy to give flowers to every member of the AAH.”

Camellia didn’t look up. She maintained her gaze around his shoulder but smiled at the comment. “You probably should make it a policy. You can’t play favorites.”

“I think flowers are about playing favorites. You know, in regards to my settling here, I’m looking for someone who shares my interests,” Adalhard added.

Camellia drifted closer. She felt his grasp tighten. “There should be plenty of that to go around.” She continued to smile, feeling his words were something of a message.

Adalhard spoke again. “I want to be with someone I have history with.”

Camellia had known Adalhard a long time. They worked on some of the same projects as he had only a small head start on her in terms of their work. She got into it right away. He came to it later, after some different life experience. From her point of view, he’d always been around as a member of the AAH, though they didn’t speak outside of professional topics. Camellia guessed that counted as history.

“You’re really narrowing your choices here,” Camellia said, her smile gone.

“That’s the point.”

Camellia frowned. It was too good to be true. It was as if he said everything she wanted. Camellia looked up at Adalhard and studied his face. He stayed quiet, and his expression was serene. Whatever he thought, she wouldn’t discern it from that face.

Camellia dropped her eyes to his chest-level. She exhaled and followed Adalhard. She found his message clear, but it shouldn’t be so. She expected to come back to Iruedim and show Adalhard a change in her. Then, she expected a long, slow climb to something good, or a complete failure that would allow her to move on.

Cernunnos shared my note. That realization darkened Camellia’s night. That had to be it.

Camellia wanted peace: no more flirting or excitement. But, that was impossible. She had to stay and be merry or stain her credibility further, so she allowed Adalhard to lead her over the patio.

He took her around, using the entire space, and her mind wandered into a daydream. Over Adalhard’s shoulder, Camellia’s view whirled from dancers under the ballroom’s lights to the shadowy garden to a gate that led to the street.

She didn’t know how long they danced, but a break came in the music. Adalhard leaned close to whisper something in her ear. She heard none of it. Instead, she heard a loud bang, followed by screams.