The preparations for the event went smoothly.

  Too smoothly.

  I stood still as Cilia and Mely fastened the final set of enchanted pins into my braided hair, but my mind was nowhere in the room. It kept drifting, spinning, through every possible scenario the evening might hold.

  Every possible version of Sirius.

  The one that might pull me aside with that calm voice and offer help.

  The one who might stare at me with that unreadable quiet and say nothing at all.

  The one who might turn his back on me.

  The one who might not believe me.

  Or worse. The one scenario where my family might notice who I was seeking out.

  My stomach twisted. The stakes were suffocating.

  The Velmires did not tolerate disobedience. Much less betrayal.

  And I was about to attempt the most dangerous kind.

  Mely's voice broke through my thoughts.

  "My lady, please lift your arms."

  I did. Mechanically.

  I'd been informed that morning, by a perfectly expressionless Enora, that I would be skipping my training to prepare for the celebration. "Your grandfather requests you remain pristine and composed throughout the day," she'd said.

  Translation: no bruises. No sweat. No excuses.

  The hours blurred. Dresses fitted. Hair styled. Nails polished. Potions, mists, lotions were used on my skin. Enchanted powder brushed lightly along my cheekbones to soften my features. Everything precise. Everything perfect.

  By evening, I was finally dressed.

  I stared at my reflection in the tall mirror.

  The gown was a deep, star-saturated blue—darker than midnight, almost black at certain angles. Velvet hugged my waist before falling in liquid folds. Lace adorned my arms down to my hands. Some small crystals were sewn into the fabric, so subtly they could only be noticed when movement made them catch the light.

  It was elegant. Formal. Beautiful.

  And far more revealing than anything I usually wore.

  My eyes narrowed.

  "Mely, the neckline is..."

  "Traditional for political celebrations, my lady."

  Mely adjusted a fold of the gown without looking at me. "It aligns with House Velmire's formal attire. The dress was approved by your father himself."

  Of course he did.

  I tugged subtly at the fabric, trying to make it rise even a fraction higher. It did not budge.

  Cilia stepped behind me and presented a velvet-lined box. I had not seen her since the night she helped me escape with Hana. All throughout the preparations I caught her stealing glances at me. She knew better than to try to address me in front of Mely.

  "This was selected for you, my lady."

  Inside, nestled like a trap disguised as luxury, was a diamond necklace—thin, cold, and unmistakably noticeable.

  I stared at it, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Of course Father would jump at the occasion to showcase the family's wealth at the rival party's victory celebration.

  The pair of satin, dark blue, silver-embellished high heels I was presented with were just as eye-catching.

  With the cold weight settled against my collarbone and my feet inside their elegant cage, I was ready.

  Enora was there to escort me to the entrance. As if I needed guiding in the place I'd been calling home for the past twelve years.

  Her presence upset me almost as much as Hana's absence did.

  Father was at the foyer, wearing a long, tailored obsidian coat with subtle arcane embroidery.

  His fingers, adorned with a couple of rings, stilled from fixing a braided strand of his hair when he noticed me at the top of the grand staircase. Grandfather was by his son's side, his mouth set in a displeased line. He was dressed in black and silver, with only a couple of deep blue gems adorning his fingers and the combs pinning his silver hair back. His cane was secured at his side.

  Neither commented on my appearance. But neither complained about my slightly late arrival, which I interpreted as approval.

  Right as I reached the bottom of the stairs, Cilia appeared with a pale fur stole to keep me from the cold.

  I stared at it for a heartbeat. Beauty before comfort... or warmth. Great.

  I didn't trust my ability to keep myself warm with magic, so I allowed Cilia to drape it over my shoulders.

  The Velmires rode the carriage together, as we always did to such events to showcase unity.

  When we arrived, the Belarian Government House rose before us in pale stone and clean geometry. Grand without being ostentatious.

  I'd been there before, years ago, for another reception.

  Tonight, the building was adorned with banners.

  The national flag, proud and familiar.

  And beside it, unmistakably, the emerald and gold of the Union.

  Grandfather's jaw tightened.

  The black carpet stretched from the carriage to the entrance, flanked by discreet barriers behind which members of the press waited.

  Cameras flashed as we stepped down. Voices rose, questions asked with false cheer and sharpened intent.

  "Lord Velmire, how does House Velmire feel about Prime Minister Isaia's victory?"

  "Do you foresee cooperation between the Wielders and the Union moving forward?"

  Grandfather answered curtly, his tone clipped, chin lifted and noncommittal. Father offered measured responses, diplomatic and carefully empty.

  I stood beside them, spine straight, my expression serene but proud. I smiled when expected. Paused when guided. Let the cameras drink their fill.

  Then Father's hand settled briefly at the small of my back, firm, and steered me forward.

  Inside, past security, the noise softened into something richer. Warmer. I sighed.

  More than three hundred guests filled the space beyond. Mages and non-mages, aristocrats and financiers, old blood and new influence. Silks and satins, tailored tuxedos and understated finery. Power worn loudly by some, quietly by others.

  My eyes began to search.

  My family moved through the crowd with practiced ease, stopping to exchange greetings, trade pleasantries, reinforce alliances. I smiled when addressed, nodded at familiar names, responded when spoken to.

  All the while, my heart beat faster.

  Once—I thought I saw him. Tall, golden-haired.

  Then again.

  Each time, disappointment followed. Similar posture. Similar coloring. But not him.

  I forced myself not to falter. Sirius would be attending. He had to be.

  A young woman approached me, Senator Lumi's daughter, launching into whispers about a venerable house teetering on the edge of financial ruin. I listened, nodded at the appropriate moments, offering murmurs of polite interest.

  Darius had been right.

  The stares that had once followed me, sharp and judgmental, were for the most part gone. The wolves had turned their attention elsewhere.

  I should have felt relieved.

  I did not.

  We were guided into the great hall where a small orchestra played, strings weaving something elegant and restrained through the air. I took a flute of champagne from one of the servers moving among the guests with trays.

  Father and Grandfather immediately dispersed into conversation.

  I did my part.

  My eyes kept wandering.

  Then a subtle shift rippled through the room.

  Voices softened. Bodies angled.

  Prime Minister Arcturus Isaia had arrived.

  But more importantly, beside the newly elected prime minister... him.

  My breath caught.

  Sirius.

  He wore an alabaster tuxedo, immaculate, the fabric catching the light with confidence.

  Gold embellishments traced the edges, some forming small runes around the sleeves.

  But his hair... It was shorter.

  Much shorter.

  The familiar golden cascade was gone, replaced with something sharper. Rebellious.

  The glinting of a long golden earring was sharper now that there was no curtain to conceal it.

  For a moment, the room faded.

  I didn't realize I'd stopped breathing until Father's voice cut in, low and disapproving.

  "Do compose yourself. Staring is unbecoming."

  I barely acknowledged him, my mind just clear enough to answer.

  "I can't believe he'd show up to such an event like that."

  Father sneered and nodded slightly.

  Sirius was smiling, engaged in conversation, at ease in a way that made my chest ache.

  Then, his gaze shifted.

  Found me.

  For a handful of seconds, the world narrowed.

  His eyes lingered.

  Then Isaia touched his arm, reclaiming his attention, and the moment fractured.

  They were ushered onward.

  The banquet hall opened before us—long and elegant, lights dimmed to a warm glow. I could detect the faintest of spells to create an intimate but elegant atmosphere.

  Flags draped the walls. Floral centerpieces softened the severity of stone and marble.

  A long head table dominated the center, flanked by rows of round tables.

  Protocol officers guided me to my seat.

  Next to Darius.

  Across the room, at the long table, Grandfather and Father took their places.

  So did Sirius.

  My faint appetite vanished entirely.

  I moved the food around my plate as conversation flowed. Darius leaned closer.

  "Is the meal not to your liking?" His small smile reminded me of when he would playfully mock me in our childhood.

  "It's excellent." I lied softly. "I simply don't want to overindulge. I'd rather not... bloat."

  Darius laughed and nodded. "A pity. You look particularly stunning tonight."

  "Thank you." Automatically. Still hoping I could raise the neckline. Especially after noticing the glances some of the men who'd approached me that evening.

  The dinner continued. Introductions were made. A foreign donor spoke with me about trade routes and cultural exchange. My answers were polite between sips of wine, though my attention kept slipping back to the golden-haired man at the head table.

  When the final course was cleared, the guests were guided into an adjoining ballroom.

  A raised platform held musicians already playing. Grandfather was nowhere in sight. A small mercy.

  I stayed close to Darius. It would be easier to disappear that way.

  The Prime Minister gave a speech. I listened only in fragments. If Father noticed, he didn't say anything. He was barely paying attention himself.

  An opera singer followed. Time dragged.

  My eyes kept going back to Sirius, but he was never alone, leaving my hope paper thin. I myself was hardly ever alone.

  When a string quartet started playing softly, the atmosphere in the room changed. Some couples took to dancing on the space near the raised platform.

  A young mage approached me, eager and earnest. I endured the conversation for a few minutes before excusing myself with a polite smile.

  I turned to leave the ballroom, if only for a moment.

  Just as the entrance reached my eyes, a tall figure stepped in front of me.

  Sirius stood in my path, a familiar softness curving his mouth, dangerously paired with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

  "Would you honor me with a dance, my lady?"

  I stared at his white-gloved hand with wide eyes.

  My heart thundered.

  I raised my gaze to his.

  And slowly placed my hand in his.