They hurried to the Council Buildings, Gareth nervously fingering the gilt-edged invitation in his pocket, alongside the silver key for their luxurious accommodation at the Spotted Duck. There was to be a grand reception hosted by Eidan tonight, and Kelnarium’s leader had invited the Maellwyn party, the letter arriving alongside a generic Council token. Though none of them were too confident about walking into what felt like the lion’s den, there wasn’t really any other option to get to Marcus, and offending the Council wasn’t a sure path to success in anyone’s book.

Gareth and Jemroth wore white linen tunics to the knees with cobalt cloaks over the top secured at their shoulders with the Maellwyn silver brooch and silver circlets in their close-cropped hair. Claire smoothed down her own plain cotton dress, a silver wave embroidered on the chest to indicate she belonged to Gareth’s House, then checked her braided bun stayed in place. She glanced at Lotte, who wore matching Maellwyn attire and gave her an encouraging smile. Lotte wasn’t used to wearing such expensive fabrics, but it was necessary for their plan to succeed. The idea was that while Gareth and Jemroth cautiously socialised, Claire and Lotte would attend to them, fetching them drinks and food, while keeping their eyes and ears open for Marcus. At the first sign of trouble, they’d all head for the Council Building exit and the safe house.

Gareth led the way as they neared the semi-circular Council Complex. Now that the square in front of the complex wasn’t crowded, Claire saw that a high barricade ran around the buildings, made of smooth, thick glass. Her scared reflection stared back at her as they approached it.

“Is this more magic?” she asked Gareth.

“They say that Shasta of House Domain cast a spell on these walls, yes. They’ll never shatter. Glass is one of the main trades of Kelnariat, so it’s a symbol of the city too.”

He indicated she should follow him to a point in the barricade just ahead, where pricks of light showed through a thin rectangular line guarded by another two sentries. They barely glanced at the party as Gareth held out his envoy token and the invitation. The man checking over the paperwork frowned but handed them back and waved them through.

“A Maellwyn envoy?” Claire heard one sentry say, as they touched the glass door and it swung open to let them pass. “Good luck to them. I suspect it won’t be a warm welcome they’ll receive from Eidan.”

Claire suppressed a shudder and walked a little quicker. She knew their plan was risky, but they had no choice but to push on with it.

A red brick path led them straight to the main Council building where a plain brown carpet had been placed at the entrance, a black spider spinning a silver web embroidered across it. Men and women wearing colourful silk garments and bright jewellery entered the structure alongside poorer folk in their best homespun cotton tunics and hose or dresses. There seemed no method as to who had received an invitation, as disparate group after disparate group was waved through the large purple painted door.

“I didn’t realise so many were coming to tonight’s event,” Gareth said as he handed over his token and invitation for a second time to a man in uniform who was checking guests of a list.

The man with the guest list smiled. “Eidan’s invited a huge cross section of the city to his reception. You mustn’t have been here long if you don’t know Eidan likes to give a warm welcome to all classes and all types.” He looked up, taking in Gareth’s attire, his eyes resting a few seconds too long on his silver badge. His mouth twisted as he turned away. “Go through. Jalarch here will take you to the Ballroom.”

A young boy in black silk scurried forward, bowing first to Gareth and then to the rest of the party. Claire tried not to feel like the lurid door was an omen as the boy led them through, terror emanating from him like he thought Gareth would turn him into a frog at any moment.

No one spoke as they hurried through corridor after corridor lined with thick and plush carpets, paintings and tapestries. Claire almost forgot her purpose as Kelnarium’s history and culture passed her by. It all looked so interesting; she could have spent hours wandering through the building. She lost count of how many elaborate and steep staircases they took and sharp corners they turned and only realised they were in the upper part of the building when she glanced out of one of the glass windows. Her head spun at the height they’d climbed.

With a final right turn, the boy, Jalarch, led them to a gold embossed leather table, with a harassed, bald man, and a wide entryway just behind it. Gareth proffered the invite to the man who waved them on at the sight of Eidan’s seal with a pained sigh.

As Claire stepped inside the Ballroom, she could barely hide her awe. She’d never seen such a large room – she estimated that there were as least two hundred people inside, but she could imagine another hundred fitting easily. Noise threatened to overwhelm for a moment as loud conversations and raucous laughter echoed in the open space.

And as to the aesthetics? She was stunned by the room’s beauty. The marble floor was chequered black and white like a chess board. Tall and wide colonnades supported the ceiling, which had been painted with images of gold-rimmed clouds, flocks of colourful birds, trees with vines in a forest of wild creatures and at the very centre of the ceiling, an old woman with bark for skin reaching out a mottled hand to grasp at a man with clear brow and a gold armband, the man seeming to stare out at Claire, self-assured and calm.

Around the edges of the hall, long tables had been joined together and groaned with all kinds of delightful food; fresh fruit in bowls, platters and platters of every kind of meat imaginable, each with their own fancy hand-painted ceramic jugs filled with gravy. Then there were salads and roasted vegetables in silver trays. And at one end of the room were tables loaded with cakes and jellies and ice creams and sugar spun sweets. Servants scurried in every direction, replenishing the tables when they threatened to get low and proffering wine and ale to anyone whose cup looked empty.

Claire made herself take a breath. She couldn’t stand here gaping. Where was Gareth? He’d explained to her and Lotte that their role was to fetch food and hold drinks for him and Jemroth. She glanced about, spotting Lotte shooting her warning looks a few metres ahead and rushed over, keeping her expression blank and respectful like the other servants bustling around her. She’d just reached Gareth’s side when a man with the symbol of the city stitched on his tunic thumped a wooden staff against the sparkling clean marble. “Councillor Eidan, I present to you Lord Gareth Maellwyn and his father’s trusted advisor, Jemroth.”

Eidan stood in a semi-circle with his councillors. They cast hard, steel-like glances at Gareth. Two of the men, dressed in garish red and green silk tunic and hose and with well-trimmed beards and oiled moustaches, looked at Gareth with outright hatred. Claire wondered if the pair were the councilmen Gwenivere and then Bron had mentioned, Wallis and Heath. One of the female councillor’s noticed her frank stares and raised a brow.

Claire’s chest pounded as she remembered to keep her eyes downcast. A real servant wouldn’t be so impudent. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Eidan’s gaze slide past Jemroth, Lotte and Claire to rest on Gareth. With a fruity laugh, he raised his golden goblet to the group. “Welcome to Kelnariat,” he said. “It’s been too long since a Maellwyn has graced our halls.”

“I have come to Kelnariat remembering your friendship with my family,” Gareth said with a careful bow. “And trust everyone tonight knows we are not of the same ilk as Dorran House.”

“It’s evident you share nothing in common with the recalcitrants I have been forced to deal with,” Eidan said, but a note of faint menace underlay his words. His smile turned cold. “But you must be hungry. Let one of your servitors fetch you a plate so we might talk.”

Gareth inclined his head and stepped forward. Taking that as her cue, Claire shuffled over to the nearest table, selecting a range of meats and vegetables and a handful of salted nuts for Gareth to nibble on. She returned to stand unobtrusively next to Gareth, holding his plate and his goblet until he wanted either.

“And how is your dear father?” Eidan was asking.

“He is well, Councillor.”

“Interesting.” He turned to his other Council members, blocking the Maellwyn party from the rest of his conversation as it flowed on without them.

Claire could tell from the way Gareth’s lips had thinned he wasn’t happy about the insult, but he turned and strode casually to the far end of the room, Claire trailing along behind.

He eased into a colonnade, then held out a hand for his drink as she inched closer. “Did you see the expressions on Wallis and Heath’s faces? They could have melted lead.”

“They were the ones in the garish colours?” Claire guessed.

“Yes. Wallis is from Heli City, an hour or so ride from here and Heath is the next town along, Potsmat. Both are too close to the Riftlands for comfort and they’ve taken their anxiety out on us, needing someone to blame to keep their people from rebelling.”

A tall man and woman whom Claire recognised as Councillors brushed past in a swirl of blue and purple silks, heads bowed in animated conversation.

“That was Pilla from Cora Town and Saskia from Reeve Town,” murmured Gareth. “Both are moderates. Their prosperous districts are in a hamlet near Maellwyn Manor and they enjoy roaring trade with us and with Maellwyn Village. It isn’t in their interests to make us enemies.” Gareth grinned, “They’ve got Maellwyn blood a few generations back through a great-great grandmother and a great-uncle respectively. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were discussing ways to make sure Eidan stays neutral towards my people.”

Claire blinked at the sudden onslaught of information. “This is all very interesting, Gareth, but we’re getting distracted. I need to find Marcus. He’s got to be here somewhere. Can you start circulating the floor and I’ll keep an eye out.” The quicker she could get in her brother’s ear and explain the whole situation, the quicker they could get away from the city and its tangle of politics.

It took her and Gareth three or four turns about the crowded hall, and Claire’s head stuffed full of myriad new facts about councillors and their complicated allegiances, before they found Marcus ensconced in a knot of men and women dressed as brightly as parrots. She and Gareth edged closer to their conversation, both pretending to admire the patterned rose and gold coloured wallpaper behind Marcus.

Claire had to remind herself to stop staring. She wanted to drink every element of her brother in now they were so close. He looked so different in his expensive forest-green tunic and hose, his hair neat and brushed, and yet so familiar she wanted to run and throw her arms around him. Just in time, she stopped herself, looking to the ground before he could notice her.

“Thanks for that little tour of the Council Gallery. Your paintings are the best I’ve seen,” Claire heard an older man say. “Is your world full of people with your skill?”

Her brother was enjoying the attention, his chest swelling with pride. “No, but my whole family paints except for Dad.” He considered for a moment. “Though I’m probably the best at it. Mum’s work is too abstract, and Claire never puts in the time.”

Claire wanted to rush forward and protest. She put just as much effort into painting as Marcus did these days. He was always off with Laura or playing footie. What a rotten liar.

She checked herself as a woman wearing a necklace of large shards of coloured glass elbowed the man aside. “I loved the painting we saw of the city. It’s nothing like one of ours. Everything looks so foreign.” She affected a delighted shiver.

“Oh, that’s a city called Sydney,” Marcus said. “And yes, my world is definitely different.” He brushed his fringe out of his face, the way he did when he wanted to kiss Laura.

Claire gasped. She couldn’t help it. He was flirting with this woman like he would in Shale with his girlfriend. It was almost like he wasn’t missing his old life at all. She pulled herself together with a small shake of her shoulders. What an uncharitable thought. Of course Marcus was as worried about everyone back home as Claire was. She needed to inch closer and catch his attention somehow. Once she could whisper her real identity and explain everything that had happened, he’d have to come away with her.

She was still trying to figure out a plan – should she accidentally sidle up to him and spill wine on his tunic or pretend she had a message for him? – when the crowd surrounding Marcus parted. Her heart sank as Eidan swept past her in his signature black silk. He paused at Marcus’s side; an arm wrapped around her brother’s shoulders, saying to the gathered crowd, “You can’t monopolise all of my young friend’s time.”

Through her lowered lashes, Claire noticed that Marcus didn’t shrink away from the sudden embrace. In fact, as Marcus raised his goblet to chink against Eidan’s, a delighted grin dimpled his cheeks and making him look more roguishly handsome than usual. Claire had to admit Bron that had been right; Marcus was hand in glove with Kelnarium’s leader. She bit her lip. She’d have to think extra hard about how she worded her story when she caught up with Marcus later.

“It’s time for a speech,” Eidan said loudly, interrupting her thoughts, as he steered Marcus away from the group. She stepped out of their way; eyes trained on the floor. She counted to ten and then followed Marcus’s sandalled feet.

Before she’d gotten more than two half-steps, fingers pinched into her arm. “Oww,” she hissed, as Gareth took her elbow and firmly guided her aside, then led her to the edge of the room.

“We don’t want him to notice us right now,” he murmured in her ear as she leaned against cold marble, “Can’t you hear how quiet it’s gotten? We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.”

Claire saw right away that he was correct. Servants ushered people into neat lines facing where Eidan stood on a raised dais, a similar podium to the one he’d used at Rinn’s funeral standing in front of him. Marcus stood beside him, a hard look marring his usually pleasant features.

“I thank everyone for coming to my little event,” Eidan began, his voice reverberating through the enormous room. “As I’ve always said, I want Kelnarium to be a place that welcomes everyone, no matter who they are, how rich or how poor.” He turned to Marcus with a grin. “Or even what world they’re from.”

He looked back to the tittering crowd, suddenly serious again, his gaze sweeping the audience until it came to rest upon Gareth. “The only people who are not welcome are those who would try to undermine our community, who would harm others and spread fear.”

The crowd shuffled as everyone craned to see where Eidan stared, angry mutters rising as they saw the object of his attention was a Maellwyn.

“I have no tolerance for such people, and you shouldn’t either,” he continued. “Their time in this world is ending.” He indicated Marcus. “My friend tells of a world where magic does not exist and yet people still get by. We can emulate this place. Is that not so, Marcus?”

“It would be easy,” Marcus said eagerly his voice raised so everyone could hear. “Why, I learnt in school that we once lived like you do now but minus the magic, and now we’ve got loads more technology than you do to make our lives better. If we can modernise, so can you!”

“Thank you, Marcus,” Eidan said gravely. “This young man tells the truth. His paintings of his home gifted to the Council prove it. Here, now, with all strata of Kelnariat society bearing witness, I make a new promise to Kelnarium; I shall modernise us and make sure we are a population that is self-sufficient. There is no need for magic in our great city any longer.” Or anywhere, he seemed to add silently.

Gareth shook beside her, his skin jolting against her arm. “This is a complete insult. He’s suggesting we’re no longer relevant.”

“We have to get to Marcus away,” Claire said, as Eidan climbed down from the podium and the crowd parted into small cliques once more, talking eagerly of their future. Space opened around her and Gareth as people did their level best to steer clear of those so obviously out of favour with Kelnariat’s leader.

Gareth shook his head. “This is hopeless. You’ve seen how they are. The pair are apparently inseparable. Let’s find Jemroth and Lotte and head back to Bron. We need to discuss a new plan for getting to Marcus.”

Claire wanted to protest, but she saw as well as Gareth did that Eidan and Marcus whispered to each other near the exit, eyes sparkling and with no obvious intention to break away and join another group.

She searched instead for Lotte and Jemroth. A few seconds later, Jemroth strode over, his forehead creased. “I can’t find Lotte anywhere.”

“You can’t have lost her,” Claire chided. “I saw her trailing you close as a shadow earlier.”

“Search the crowd all you like,” Jemroth insisted. “I can’t see her.”

She glanced around but as the chatter grew louder and she searched the sea of heads, Lotte was nowhere to be seen. Something made her swivel back to the wide arched doorway, ice sliding down her spine.

Eidan swept through on his way out with Marcus, dragging someone else in tow by her elbow. Claire recognised her terrified face immediately.

Lotte.