It wasn’t the first time Corinne had heard gossip that included the name Lady Snow. Giggling whispers that spoke obliquely of parties and the unspecified decadent activities that occurred there were punctuated by the same question over and over—who was Lady Snow? Who was she really?

“She must be a Serpent.” This from Asher Nalini, said with a sniff. “Only Serpents indulge in such…” she paused meaningfully, “iniquities.”

“She wears a mask.” Nita Bora, so desperate for Nalini’s approval that she was always quick to jump in with agreement. “She wears a mask and makes all her guests wear masks. A Serpent, no question.”

“Don’t be an idiot.” From Asher Surya. “A real Serpent would simply change her own face if she wanted to hide, and anyone who went to the parties would be blackmailed for years.”

“How do we know they aren’t?” Nalini countered. “It isn’t as though anyone is going to admit to that.”

“If you can even find someone who’s actually been to one of those parties. If,” Surya added in a bored tone, “they’re even real. Be sensible. This is the Imperial Court. You honestly believe some courtier attached to the Emperor is hosting sex parties?” His voice had dropped dramatically on the word sex. Ancestors forbid any well-bred Dragon speak of such things.

Corinne moved away from the little group. All three were her mother’s sycophants, here at the Emperor’s garden party to curry favor and to make a deal of being seen at the Emperor’s garden party.

Speculation, judgement, and cold superiority—the favorite pastimes of the Dragon parliament. It turned Corinne’s stomach.

Let them wonder. Corinne had at least one piece of evidence they didn’t. The parties were real—or so she hoped, since Corinne had managed to obtain for herself an invitation.

It had happened almost by accident, which was possibly the only way it could have happened. Corinne wasn’t sure she would have been brave enough to ask anyone directly. But at last night’s reception, when Corinne had gone looking for a quiet corner to snatch a moment to herself, she’d passed by a trio of two Griffons and a Serpent engaging in the age-old art of sipping drinks at the edge of a party and judging the people they surveyed.

Corinne would have ignored them, walked on by, if not for what she’d heard in passing. “—said what?” from the statuesque Griffon woman. “Lady Snow would not approve.”

Corinne slowed her steps.

“Who’s going to tell her?” asked the lithe, androgynous Serpent behind their glittering green mask. “Not I.”

The Griffon man rolled his eyes. “You think she doesn’t already know? Lady Snow has eyes everywhere.”

“Eyes, fingers…” the Griffon woman gave a lascivious smile.

It was at this point Corinne realized she’d stopped, and that the Serpent had noticed her. “May we help you?” they asked archly.

“I’m sorry.” Corinne felt herself flush. “I was just…”

“Eavesdropping?” the Griffon man purred. “Did we say something interesting?”

Corinne hadn’t backed away from a fight ever once in her life. She didn’t know why this conversation was so much more intimidating. But she steeled herself as though for battle. “I heard you talking about Lady Snow. I wanted…” Corinne didn’t know what to say, what to ask for.

The woman’s smile grew. “Wanted…?” She stepped forward with all the boldness Corinne hadn’t managed and brushed a finger under Corinne’s chin. “You are a lovely one. I think Lady Snow would like you.”

A shiver ran through Corinne. It evoked the half-formed longings she didn’t understand and couldn’t define that had haunted her since she’d first heard whispers describing the sorts of things that happened at Lady Snow’s notorious parties. She looked up—ancestors, this woman was tall—and met the woman’s gaze directly. “How would we find out?”

The serpent laughed. “Oh, I like this one. By all means, my dear. Let’s see what Snow-más makes of you.” They reached into a pocket inside their long, glittering sleeve, and pulled out a card with nothing but an address, a date, and a time on it.

A date that was today, and a time that was tonight. If Corinne was brave enough.

Could an entire clan be too uptight? Until this Eclipse, Corinne had thought she was…wrong. Broken in some way. After weeks immersed in the Emperor’s Court, she was starting to wonder if maybe she was simply different.

Maybe life wasn’t even like this for every Dragon. Maybe outside the fortress, outside of Tapti, they had different options, different experiences. Until this Eclipse, it had never occurred to Corinne just how sheltered—how isolated—she’d been all her life.

What she knew was that she hadn’t been happy, that she’d wanted something more—something she hadn’t even known how to ask for. And she only had so much time before Shadow Court ended, before all these amazing, exotic, wonderful people went away.

So yes, Corinne was brave enough. She would go to this party she only half understood. She would meet the woman who created such rapt expressions on people’s faces. She would explore what she could, while she could. Not just this strange world, but herself.

Later, as she was getting ready, Corinne’s fear returned. She had nothing to wear. The small fraction of her wardrobe that wasn’t uniforms or somber, sever formal-wear tended towards the dull and utilitarian. Corinne didn’t go to parties—not the kind you dressed up for.

Was this a party you dressed up for?

Corinne opened both her closets, dumped everything from her dresser onto the bed. She stood in the center of her room where she could consider everything. She was an engineer, dammit. She was creative. Surely she could build something out of the materials she had available.

She was an akashic. An exceptional one. Corinne would use the talents she had. Even if it would have given her mother a heart attack to learn Corinne was using magic for such base, carnal goals.

A formal dress from a state wedding—it was too much, but it had a decorative wrap of skirt over other layers that Corinne could remove. Sheer fabric of bright red, beaded and glittering in more reds, oranges, and golds. Corinne pulled it around her waist with the long side over her right thigh, tying it tight over her left hip. Her entire left leg was exposed. The beaded tassels hanging off the hem brushed against her bare skin. It only barely covered what it needed to cover for her to be anything close to decent.

Corinne looked at herself in the mirror—naked except for the skirt. She twitched her hips, watching the way the beads moved, how the skirt flowed. The glittering beads were beautiful, vibrant contrast against her dark skin. She ran a finger up her thigh where the fabric parted, imagined eyes following the same path. Her nipples tightened and heat ran through her at the thought.

Could she do this? Did she dare?

What she wouldn’t be able to do was wear anything underneath. Several attempts to retie the skirt and she couldn’t find a way to keep from exposing lines of even her skimpiest underwear. Which—to be honest—wasn’t that skimpy. So Corinne took a deep breath and stripped the underwear back off. Tonight, she was going to commit to being wild. To being sexy.

Above was a different issue. Corinne had a number of halter tops, but they were all plain and boring. None of them looked right with the skirt. She tried layers. She dug for jewelry she could use as ornament. Nothing was right.

Her eyes slid back to the dress in the closet. To the sheer, beaded shawl that matched her skirt.

Yes. She could do this.

She folded it over once, twice, pulled it tight across her back with just the tip of the triangle hanging down from the long rectangle of fabric she’d created. Corinne pulled it around in front of her, taut as she could get it, then tied it between her breasts.

She considered herself in the mirror. Who was this enticing, daring woman? Barely clothed. Only two simple knots holding everything on, keeping her from being utterly revealed.

People were going to look at her like this. She would draw attention. How could she not? They were going to stare. They were going to drag their eyes across the delicate fabric, imagine what lay beneath.

Corinne bit her lip as these thoughts sent heat pulsing between her thigh. This was excitement like she’d never felt, and she hadn’t even left her room yet.

Corinne considered jewelry, but she was entranced by the idea of being utterly bare except for the two pieces of cloth she’d wrapped around her. Jewelry existed to draw attention to itself. Corinne was shaking at the thought of people looking at her.

Corinne had no mask. But she had an idea. One that would have to wait until she was there.

As prepared as she could be, Corinne pulled a long coat out of her closet—too warm for this weather, but there was no way she was walking through the fortress looking like this—and headed out into the night, towards the tram that would take her down to Tapti.

She found the address the card had directed her to, a private estate in the heart of one of Tapti’s wealthiest districts. Whoever this Lady Snow was, she had means—or the best kind of friends.

The estate was gated. Corinne watched from a distance as people in glittering dress—or covered in capes or coats not unlike her own—approached the gatehouse, traded their outerwear for masks, and passed through.

The masks the gate staff were handing out were simple affairs in black or white with some colored beading around the edge. Corinne could do better. She took a slow breath, relaxing into the state where the world around her faded and the nima became bright.

The nima were all around, always. Anyone with an akashic adaptation could see them and even talk to them to some degree. Lesser akashics could, for example, direct the nima that had been merged into ships, or draw the information stored in nima crystals. But to create, to forge, to command, that took a full akashic.

Corinne closed her eyes and thought about fire. The heat of it, the bright burning light, its dancing, flickering fingers. She fed that thought with power. The nima in her blood reached out to the nima in the world, summoned them to Corinne.

Corinne crafted her thoughts into an image to guide them. With practiced ease and precise skill, she shaped the nima into a mask of living flame. A frivolous use of her gift—one her mother would never approve of—but Corinne was having fun.

So were the nima. The little spirits were excited to play the game she put before them. Corinne trusted that they had taken the shape she’d offered. The mask was bright around her eyes, warm against her skin—raw flame tempered through magic. Smoldering scales to cover her cheeks. Tendrils of flames reaching back over her head, hiding her inelegant, close-cropped soldier’s hair. Corinne had created for herself the face of a dragon.

She walked boldly to the gate, took off her coat, and handed it to the man who stood waiting. Then, she squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and walked onto the grounds.