THE ENTRANCE of Pearl Tower was composed entirely of blocks of marble but the doors were made of bronze. As Vivienne passed through them, she saw a small inscription on the handles with the artisan's signature — it said Lamken Janvier.

The inductees were herded out of the grand foyer, around a narrow hallway separated from an indoor courtyard and into a meeting hall. There were five more inductees already there, making the total nine. Each of the other five inductees was more beautiful than the last. It made Vivienne wonder why she was picked at all. Sallen must have been thinking the same thing because she pulled the hood of her cloak lower over her face.

Ten inductees are picked every season to join the ranks of the Orlins. This time, there were only nine. Normally, they would wait until the last one was chosen before holding the Midnight Masquerade, but this year they decided to continue anyway. This was an unheard-of number as normally they were lucky to have one. A Prince who was up for an Orlin could not be made to wait. Almost twenty lords were participating in the Midnight Masquerade as well, but some of them participated every year and never found an Orlin to suit their fickle tastes.

Madame Jyger gave a lecture on the origins of the Orlins. A couple of hundreds of years ago, the inventors in Manna City discovered a potion called the Nectar. Nectar could cure all diseases. Not only was it useful in aiding the sick, but it also made the drinker smarter, younger, faster. Over time, however, they discovered that Nectar was not the key to immortality. It eventually drove the drinker insane, sometimes even to crave human flesh.

For those who chose to drink Nectar, they soon found it had a price. For the super-rich, they could buy pills to keep themselves sane. For those who couldn't afford it but had some semblance of respectability — binding themselves to an Orlin was an alternative solution.

By binding themselves to a human who was not tainted by Nectar, the elite could keep their sanity. That's where the Order of the Orlins came in. Unfortunately, not all bonds were created equal. Some Orlins and Ansuras simply fit together better, like soulmates.

Vivienne felt increasingly disgusted at the idea of being an Orlin. The people outside of Manna City never questioned why they were being chosen to accompany the elite society members like beloved house pets. They were too bedazzled by the promise of riches and fame to ask why. A question that bugged Vivienne that no one bothered to address was what happened to the Orlins who were bound to the Nectar-drinking elite. If they lived forever then would they require a new Orlin so frequently? If they were capable of living forever then why is it that the papers never picked up on it? It seemed to Vivienne that the elite was disappearing and being replaced in a whirlwind every year.

After Madame Jyger's lecture, they met a new instructor named Madame Krenner who immediately began critiquing their posture and their manners. Sallen turned out to be gifted at sitting with her legs crossed and walking with her shoulders back. Vivienne, on the other hand, kept getting caught in a slouch. She had a feeling Madame Krenner was about ready to skin her alive by the end of the day.

On the second day of their time at the Pearl Tower, they had a visitor. He was named Lord Henton, and he brought his nephew, Calbert Henton, along with him. Lord Henton was in charge of arranging the Midnight Masquerade, and he needed to inspect each inductee prior to their introduction into elite society. Each of them was to have a private interview with the lord.

Vivienne found out that her interview was last, so she had ample free time to spend in the courtyard. She decided to be good and to devote her time to humming The Aurora Song; a sweet, lively melody meant to set her Ansura's mind at ease. However, the more Vivienne sang, the more certain she became that she would drive anyone insane with her caterwauling.

Luckily, she was still wearing her hooded cloak so no one would have recognized her even if they happened to walk by the courtyard. Finally, she decided to study her textbook. The area that most interested her was the map of Manna City and the direction to River Way. She decided that the best way to get rid of the cameo was simply to bury it where Blake had found it.

"Is this seat taken?" a boy asked. Vivienne looked up, expecting one of her fellow inductees. But no, it was a boy, wearing a dress shirt and fancy pants. Around his neck was a blue silk necktie with a ridiculously elaborate knot. He was huffing and puffing, turning as red as a tomato. Vivienne shook her head. He immediately collapsed on the marble seat across from her.

"Is it just me or is it hot as hell today?" he asked with a strained smile. Vivienne noticed his bulging neck veins. He was wheezing as he strained to breathe. As he took a deep, labored breath, one of his shirt buttons popped off and bounced away.

"I think your tie is on too tight," Vivienne said.

"My uncle did it for me," the boy replied as he tugged uselessly on the knot. "He says it is...supposed...to..." the boy attempted to lean over to pick up his button, but his face suddenly turned about three shades of purple. He gave a dull groan and fell headfirst onto the ground.

Vivienne looked around and saw that she was the only one in the courtyard. Darn, she was going to have to help him. She kneeled down and tugged at the knot at his throat. There was no give. He moaned, and his eyes rolled back in his head. Vivienne sighed. She hoped that Madame Krenner was far away because she would never condone what Vivienne was about to do. Vivienne leaned in and ripped at the silk with her teeth. Luckily, she nicked the edge, and she was able to rip the rest of it away.

The boy was coming to. With each breath, the color was returning to his face. Vivienne's eyes fell on the initials CH on his breast pocket.

"Calbert Henton?"

He nodded. "And you are, buddy?"

Vivienne frowned as he patted her heartily on the back. "I'm an Orlin."

"You have a nice voice," Calbert said. "My uncle made me dress up because he was hoping I would meet a girl. I guess it's useless now." Calbert snatched up the torn necktie and shoved it in his pocket. "Thanks, anyway. My stupid neck is just too fat. I tried to cut back on the cake, but I can't help it. I'm always hungry."

Vivienne rolled her eyes. It became clear to her that he thought she was a boy. Obviously, his neck wasn't the only part of him that was stupid. He patted his stomach. She could hear it growling.

"There's food in the meeting hall," Vivienne offered. "It's not much, but there is some smoked ham and cantaloupe."

"Hey, thanks!" Calbert offered gleefully. He jumped to his feet. He was a tall boy, broad shoulders and square features. He was built like a gladiator. Vivienne was afraid that if he got up too quickly and fell over, he would squash her like a bug. "Want to come with me?" Calbert offered. "I don't like to eat alone."

Vivienne was about to refuse but decided that with her poor posture and manners she was in no position to refuse an invitation from a member of high society. She gathered her books and followed him into the meeting hall. There were two other female Orlins there. One was a Panther and the other a Crane. They pointed at the missing buttons on Calbert's collar, giggled among themselves.

Calbert turned red and pretended to ignore them. He poured himself a glass of water and sat down. Vivienne guessed that the presence of the girls made him lose his appetite.

"Have you been an Orlin for a long time?" Calbert asked.

"I'm an inductee," Vivienne responded. She picked herself up a plate of cantaloupe hoping that it would prompt him to eat, but it was no use.

"Oh, here's a tip. During your meeting, ask my uncle about his collection of limited edition Princess Ylaria dishes. He will love you for it." Calbert took a sip of his water. His large, meaty fingers fussed around with his sweat-stained collar.

"Is he a nice guy?" Vivienne asked.

"Nope," Calbert replied. "Mean as a feral mountain goat." Calbert smiled at her. "I am from outside of Manna City. My mom was a Henton before they threw her out for marrying my farmer father. My uncle adopted me a couple of years ago. He's still trying to mold me into something presentable. He's a persistent one, that old bag of bones."

"I would have never known you're not a native," Vivienne offered.

"Thanks for the compliment," Calbert responded as his eyes continued to dart fearfully toward the giggling girls. "I know these fancy clothes look ridiculous on me. My uncle thinks that if I start drinking Nectar I could grow some brains. But, really, who would want to be my Orlin?" Calbert chuckled to himself. "I would be happy just to talk to a girl."

Vivienne offered him a piece of her fruit. He took it shyly and quickly popped it into his mouth. "I'm sure you'll meet someone. You seem nice enough."

"Oh, don't flatter me," Calbert said and waved her compliment away. "A talented guy like yourself, you'll have your pick of the society of Manna City. I heard you singing. You have a voice like an angel."

Vivienne smiled. He honestly seemed to mean that. "Well, Manna City is in for a treat," Vivienne joked.

~*~

Vivienne's meeting with Lord Henton did not start well. He was an elderly man with a long snowy beard in a wheelchair. She made the mistake of staring too long at his thin knobby knees before looking up to meet his eyes.

"Well, Miss Weisse, you are our last and our oldest candidate." He motioned for her to take a seat across from him. She sat down and heard every squeak of the chair blaring across the silent room. "Frankly, I've never seen anyone of your age at the Midnight Masquerade. I don't even know why they summoned you."

Vivienne wasn't aware that turning eighteen was a sin. She swallowed thickly. He studied her with a vicious look in his eyes as though he expected her to apologize for having the gall to show up.

"The bond doesn't work very well when you're past a certain level of maturity," Lord Henton continued as though he was breaking terrible news to her. "Rumor has it that not even a witch of the Levanti could form a bond past the age of twenty. I don't see why any member of my society will be interested in you."

"Well," Vivienne replied. "Then, can I go home?"

"No," Lord Henton snapped. "No, you cannot go home!" He threw his pen across the table. "You're going to have to work harder to gain the interest of an Ansura." He sighed and rubbed his temples as though she was giving him a headache. "You're not very attractive, that we can be absolutely certain of. No grace, no poise, and no manners. You maintain that glare on your face as though you're a little minx."

Vivienne was taken aback. She wondered if she should attempt to defend her glare but then decided to let him speak so that the entire encounter would end sooner.

"So, this is what you are going to do at the Midnight Masquerade," Lord Henton said as he leaned forward and placed his folded hands on the table. "You're going to go after the low-hanging fruit. I want to see you chatting with every loathsome imbecile in the room. Let not a single doorman go uncharmed. Do you hear me?"

Vivienne nodded.

"Good," Lord Henton said. "With a little luck maybe we can find a decent derelict for you. Now, you are dismissed."

~*~

Blake Thorne wasn't nearly as insufferable as her father made him sound. At first, Vivienne thought he was a pompous brat with his constant need to boast to her about his illustrious ancestors and his need to dress formally to every occasion. After a while, she realized that he was just another lonely kid.

According to her father, Blake spent more time throwing his books at his tutors than reading them. Her father even showed her evidence of sooty holes in his jacket where the demon child had hurled lit matches at him. Vivienne never told her father that she spent her days playing with the master of the manor.

Her father was always complaining to her mother that he was escorted to the lessons and then immediately escorted out of the mansion afterward. He was never allowed to spend any time dilly-dallying about. Vivienne knew if she told anyone Blake actually took her beyond the manor, into the forested gardens and to the rivers that cut through the heart of the secluded estate, her father could be fired for it. Lady Thorne was very specific about where the outsiders could and could not go.

When Blake was with her, he was far from being the demon brat her father talked about. He almost seemed timid, vulnerable, even at times - obedient. Vivienne convinced him to explore his family's gardens with her.

There was an old weeping willow tree by the river that bordered a magnificent rose garden. At the top of the tree were several abandoned chandeliers. Long ago, there had been a magnificent garden party here, and the trees were decorated with hanging lights. Vivienne assumed this was back when Blake's father had been alive. Now, there were no more parties at Thorne Manor. That didn't stop Vivienne from climbing the tree to snatch shards of crystals from the chandelier.

Blake used to sit at the foot of the tree with a book while she climbed. He said his bad leg prevented him from getting far up the tree. Vivienne didn't pressure him to join her, after all, he was always dressed like he was on his way to the opera. Although she never asked him any questions about his health, she got the feeling that he wasn't well and his limp was just a small part of what was wrong with him.

Vivienne didn't care to dig through his secrets. She was just happy to have a playmate. He would sit patiently at the bottom of the tree, waiting for her. Sometimes, he read, other times he sketched. Although Blake had a dreadful temper, her father did admit that he never failed to complete a single assignment. He had a photographic memory, and this made Vivienne careful of what she said around him. He never forgot anything and that made it easy for him to catch her in a lie. He would have been terrifying had he not been such a pleasure to spend time with.

"This is boring," Blake complained as he slammed shut her father's copy of Romeo and Juliet.

"Did you get to the end?" Vivienne asked, with only half-hearted interest in his school work. She mischievously shook willow leaves into his impeccably brushed hair. "You'll like it. Juliet kills Romeo with a poisoned kiss."

"Is that really what happens?" Blake asked, giving her a disapproving look. "I have read this book before, you know."

She giggled and threw a branch of the willow tree at his head. Droplets of dew dripped down his forehead and into his beautiful eyes. He looked ethereal, like a fairy boy newly emerged from Titania's arms.

"You always seem to find pleasure in my suffering." He complained, making a face and brushing the water off his shoulders. She nodded and giggled.

"Come play with me," Vivienne said, dangling upside down from a lower branch of the tree. She opened her hand and showed him the crystal she collected. "I want you to help me collect treasure."

"So, it's a treasure you want, Vivienne?" Blake asked. He caught her by the wrist and pulled her down into the crevasse of the willow roots beside him. Vivienne squealed as she landed in a mess of tangled hair and ripped stockings in the mud beside him. He never seemed to care that she wasn't dressed neat and dainty like the other children in the household.

Vivienne laid there with her head on his shoulder and his arm around her. Overhead, a gentle breeze shook the trees, sending a light flurry of greenery to the ground. She could lay there forever and feel completely content. His fingers were caught in her long dark hair. For a long time, there was nothing but the sound his breathing, softly, in and out between his parted lips.

Vivienne reached up and stroked his cheek with her palm. She noticed he flinched a little as she cupped his cheek.

"What's wrong?" She asked. "You don't like to be touched?"

"Your hands are so cold," he whispered back. Lying there, in the mossy roots beside him, she could think of how beautiful he was. He wasn't like other boys. His cheekbones were prominent under his skin because he lacked the baby fat most children had. He always looked otherworldly, delicate, like he would break if she held him with too much force. Perhaps, that was why he was so angry all the time - it was to make everyone else forget how sick he was. Blake lowered his eyes as he noticed her staring at him. He didn't like it when she stared at him. He wrapped his fingers around her hand and held it in a warm embrace. "It takes some getting used to."

"I like being here with you," Vivienne whispered back. "Eventually, though, my dad is going to run out of boring books for you to read. Then, they'll bring in a new tutor for you and I'll never see you again."

"Do you want to stay here, with me?" Blake asked, quietly. "I have an idea," he said and dug around in his jacket pocket. He withdrew a cameo necklace, one that looked a lot like the one Vivienne found in the attic. Except, this one was different. It was a pretty piece of jewelry, that looked like it was meant for an adult. Vivienne wondered if it was another antique that belonged to one of his ancestors. "If you keep this necklace with you, I'll always be near."

"Why are you giving it to me now?" Vivienne demanded. "Are you going somewhere?"

"No, not yet," Blake said with a laugh. "I'm just giving it to you, in case — something happens to me."

"Like what?" Vivienne asked but he didn't answer. As he placed the necklace around her neck, Blake pulled her close and inhaled deeply. He then turned his attention away and stared into the cloudless sky, lost in his own thoughts. "Vivienne," he suddenly interrupted.

"Yes, Blake?" She replied mockingly addressing him with as much formality as he was suddenly addressing her.

"I have a secret to share with you." He sat up and reached for his cane with resolve. "There's an abandoned...graveyard...of sorts. It's just beyond the edge of River Way. I think you, of all people, will appreciate what I found there."