The guests for the party were guided along the castle passageways toward an expansive ballroom. The angel was pleased that the previous day’s tour gave her a semblance of direction. That said, she was still thankful for the staff directing them toward the fest hall. While the tour had taught her much about the castle, it had also shown just how maze-like the corridors truly were. Despite her newfound sense of direction, she had no doubt that if she wandered into the wrong area that it could be a few hours before she made her way back to a portion of the keep she recognized.

  The ballroom reminded Brivaria of the common room of the Siren’s Alcove. Where the Alcove had many small chains hanging from the ceiling holding mana lamps that gave the inn a cozy atmosphere, the ballroom had grand sculptures of metal and magical stone which bathed the entire room in radiance. The lights were dimmed, slightly, as if in deference to the storm raging outside whose peals of thunder could just barely be heard through the thick, castle walls.

  Filling the grand ballroom were a great many tables laid out before an empty stage. There was also an empty area off to the side that was presumably for dancing. Like the Siren’s Alcove, both the stage and dancing area were empty. Unlike the Siren’s Alcove, all the tables were set with silverware and glassware. Everything was neatly laid out and awaiting the party guests who would settle at designated tables.

  The tables nearest the stage were reserved for the highest of the peerage such as Count Dancarlo and Baron Sorenson. Each major baron or baroness was allotted a table, even those who were not present, so four of the six tables were occupied—those belonging to Dancarlo, Sorenson, Felio, and Westlake. Cordelia was standing near her table and looked up at the exact moment Brivaria glanced her way. The noblewoman had to have a skill to know when someone was looking at her. Her lips bowed into a smile upon seeing the angel and team but the expression lasted for only a single moment before she was drawn back into discussions with the men around her.

  Just behind the upper nobility were the guests of said upper nobility. Baron Sorenson was visiting one of these tables and seemed to be telling a joke as four men—two peshmari, one gaborn, and one lephori—were all laughing at something the baron had said. At one of the tables was a set of men and women wearing heraldry that Brivaria didn’t recognize. She asked Alden and he gave her a curious look before replying that those were Zenith’s Marauders. Their primary colors seemed to be white, blue, and gold which were Brivaria’s own preferred colors. No wonder she’d gotten so many looks at the guild on her first day in Barton. Not only did she resemble their leader but was wearing clothes reminiscent of their uniforms.

  The final set of tables were for everyone else in attendance. There were nobles and merchants present in number but also adventurers. Each major house would take an adventuring party into the forest as part of the hunt and there was apparently enough coin in that possibility to get a whole bunch of men and women out of their armor and into something fashionable for an evening in the hopes that they could secure one of the four spots. There was also a rumor that two more spots would open up as a pair of smaller houses would be allowed to join the hunt in lieu of houses Decrune and Meyers being absent.

  None of it mattered to the angel but she soaked in the atmosphere as Alden led them to the second set of tables where both Seasoned Steel and Divine Blessing would sit as guests of Count Dancarlo. Brivaria’s breath caught when a man rose from one of the seats at the table they were heading toward and met her gaze. Brown hair, long but neatly pulled back, framed a face etched with shame and guilt. Lucian’s deep green eyes held genuine regret for the brief instant they met the angel’s own before looking away.

  “Miss Brivaria. My name is Lucian Ashford and I am very sorry for our first meeting. Please accept my apologies.” It was an explosion of words that caught everyone off-guard. They left silence in their wake.

  Brivaria was glad Lucian looked away because she knew that if he had not then she would have. Seeing the rogue, even dressed so very nicely in a somber brown shirt and trousers, brought back a flood of emotions. The angel remembered the terrible pain of her injury. She recalled the pain of laying on the ground, willing her tail to find the knife wound, and fighting through the pain to jam it into the cut to begin the healing process. She remembered thinking that she was going to die, for good, and it terrified her. Had she been capable of sleeping, she would have had nightmares for days.

  In the moment, she’d compacted all of those feelings into a tiny box and shoved them far away. She’d compartmentalized all the pain, fear, and trauma but seeing the rogue brought it all back. It sent her mind back to those terrifying moments she teetered on the precipice of her own death, potentially true and permanent death, and her stomach turned. Fear turned to rage and she clenched her fists. As if seeing that slight movement, the rogue spoke again.

  “I’m so, so sorry. Please believe me. I won’t ask your forgiveness but I swear I will never do something so foolish ever again,” the rogue pleaded in a small voice. The fire of the angel’s anger was quashed even before it could begin to grow. Brivaria’s hands relaxed and she breathed out.

  A part of her wanted to grab him, dig out his heart with her claws, and ask him how it felt. She wanted to inflict the same suffering on him as he’d done to her. It would feel so damn good to hurt him back. Another part told her to offer him forgiveness. He’d given a sincere apology. Her intuition told her that he meant everything he said. He’d apologized and now it was her turn to forgive him. That was what she was supposed to do here. She did neither and simply turned away, letting her silence speak the words she could not.

  Alden got the hint, took Lucian by the arm, and guided him away to give the angel space. Trixie looked up at Brivaria with soft, brown eyes and whined. The golden nuzzled one of the angel’s hands and her tongue flicked out to lick the winged girl’s fingers. Kseniya was glaring at Lucian while Giselle was a little confused at what was happening. Isolde whispered that she’d explain later if no one else did. Nyx put a reassuring hand on Brivaria’s shoulder.

  “If you want to leave then we can leave,” Nyx said in a low, soothing voice.

  “We just got here,” the angel protested weakly.

  “And we can just un-‘got here’ if we want. If you want to stay then we’ll stay. If you want to go then we’ll go.” Nyx’s determination surprised Brivaria but it felt good to hear.

  “It is true. We are a team after all. And, if we wanted to, say… beat him senseless in retribution then we could do that as a team as well,” Kseniya looked around for dramatic effect before continuing, “though perhaps not in a place with quite so many witnesses.”

  The casual offer of violence somehow brought a smile to Brivaria’s face despite herself. She was certain Kseniya was joking. Well, she was mostly certain. The sorceress’ levity alongside Nyx’s show of support rekindled her good spirits. Her smile was just starting to return when a sultry, feminine voice spoke up behind her.

  “And is this my so-called impostor?” Despite the bold accusation, there was no malice in the question. If anything, there was genuine amusement in the woman’s voice. Even though the two had never met, Brivaria knew exactly who the speaker was. The angel turned around to greet the woman whose name had been haunting her since her first day in Barton—Zenith Penrose—then she gasped.

  The angel wasn’t certain what she expected of the famed mercenary. Whatever her expectations, Brivaria’s imagination had not done the woman justice. Turning around, coming face to face with Zenith Penrose, wasn’t merely seeing her likeness. It was as though she were looking into a mirror. Brivaria was certain that the shock she saw on Zenith’s face was reflected in her own as well.

  The two winged women were similar. This, Brivaria expected. They had large white wings and long, blonde hair. At a distance, it made sense that someone would confuse them. The larger, more noticeable traits weren’t where the similarities ended, however. They both had luminous blue eyes, nearly identical eyebrows and noses, and their hair was the exact same airy shade of blonde that seemed to shimmer when it caught the light. It wasn’t that they could have been sisters rather it was that they could have been identical twins.

  Of course, as soon as Brivaria had begun marveling at the similarities she then began to see the differences. They were subtle. Where Brivaria carried herself with a relaxed openness, Zenith’s smile told of a secret that only she knew. It was an expression filled with mystery and amusement with a dash of mockery thrown in… or maybe that’s just what it was in this particular case as she regarded the angel. The mercenary woman also wore a very low-cut white gown with golden embroidery. If not for the fact that it was deliberately made to be enticing and borderline immodest, Brivaria would have considered it more befitting of an angel than her own dress.

  “It wasn’t by intention and I could really do without all the people trying to kill me because they think I’m you. Have you really made so many enemies?” Brivaria asked, meeting what she hoped was a playful question with one of her own. Zenith took it in stride and gave a delightful laugh before replying.

  “Oh I have made many enemies. If you’re doing anything worthwhile then you will make at least one and I have done many worthwhile things. They’ve yet to send an assassin worth my time let alone capable of killing me. I didn’t think the standards had fallen to the point that copper rank adventurer could fight them off though. I need to ruffle a few more feathers to raise the quality of my would-be killers.” Zenith laughed as she spoke but Brivaria didn’t miss the nod to the angel’s team rank. The winged mercenary had looked into her and her team.

  “I’d really rather you didn’t. I’m Brivaria and this is my team, Divine Blessing, but I think you already know that,” the angel replied politely. Zenith’s laughter subsided and her mysterious smile returned.

  “Zenith Penrose, illustrious leader of the Zenith Marauders,” the winged mercenary said while giving a surprisingly elegant curtsy. “And yes, I have looked into your team. Word that I’d nearly died to an assassin in town was news to both my second-in-command and myself. It caused a stir among my men. It’s quite something to constantly hear rumors about doing things you never did. You’ve been busy,” the mercenary observed.

  “Oh, I hadn’t thought about it going the other way,” Brivaria said, wondering just how much of her team’s antics had gotten back to the other woman.

  “That is the burden of having a twin, it seems. Are you truly an angel?”

  “I am,” came Brivaria’s immediate reply.

  “Not even a moment’s hesitation. Interesting. I’ve heard of the heavenly angels—righteous crusaders who can only be summoned by high level priests and clerics. I’ve never seen nor heard of one below level 100 however. Also I’ve heard angels possess halos. Where is yours?” Zenith pointedly lifted her eyes to the area above Brivaria’s head then let them fall back down.

  That simple question hurt because it was true. Angels did have halos. Some possessed a halo skill at creation while others acquired their own at levels 50 or 52. An angel’s halo was both a powerful weapon as well as a symbol of their people. No other creatures in all the multiverse, as far as Brivaria was aware of, could produce a halo. If one didn’t have a halo then it was sometimes advised to retain their level 40 class at level 50 just so they could take their halo skill at level 50. It was that important. The fact that Brivaria lacked such a skill and had yet to reach a level capable of selecting one was a mark of shame. Zenith didn’t need to know any of that though.

  “Mine is unavailable right now.” It hurt to give that answer but the angel wouldn’t lie and wouldn’t dodge the question. She wasn’t ashamed of her lost levels and felt confident that she would regain them all, with time. She would never be the same as she had before the incident but hoped that she would come out of this mess stronger.

  “A sore subject, I see.” Zenith’s smile suddenly became far more genuine and her eyes gained a mischievous twinkle. “A little birdie told me you defeated the Count in a duel; injured his pride too.”

  “He asked for the duel, not me,” the angel said defensively and Zenith waved the sentiment off.

  “He wanted to stroke his ego and you bruised it quite badly. He has only himself to blame, not that he’ll see it that way. He’s fun but not all that bright. He’s eaten his way to a fairly high level thanks to years of these little hunts and doesn’t quite understand that there’s a lot more to strength than raw attributes.”

  “So why work for him?” Brivaria asked with curiosity.

  “Money. Most of the other mercenary bands or private companies for hire wanted a piece of the hind. We bid our fee a little higher but didn’t require a piece of the deer. I have no desire to eat of the hind’s flesh. The more of that stuff you eat, the more it stagnates your natural growth. I intend to surpass the first tier of power and I will not sacrifice my future for short-term power.”

  “I thought as much. These things usually have a cost. A lot of lephori, humans, and other races seem inclined to take the trade,” the angel observed and Zenith nodded.

  “Leveling gets difficult. Two levels per year shrinks to one then none. If you’re not challenging yourself then you stop growing. Many people reach their plateau and want to keep going but without fighting for that growth.”

  “You’re not what I expected,” the angel commented after nodding in agreement with Zenith’s words. Once more the mercenary laughed.

  “Did you expect someone crass, rude, or perhaps brutish?” the zephyri warrior asked with a raised eyebrow. Brivaria wasn’t going to come out and say that but Zenith wasn’t far from the mark. The mercenary kept going before the angel could reply.

  “I am a leader. I meet with nobility and royalty. My band is not so large as to be a private army and overly concern such rulers with our movements but we are formidable enough for those rulers to come to us with requests.” Kseniya chose that moment to insert herself into the conversation.

  “That is an interesting statement from someone who has the word ‘marauder’ in her band’s name, you know?” the lamia sorceress pointed out.

  “It comes from a time far earlier in our history when we were on less friendly terms with some factions. Still aren’t with some. A shame for them. Does that answer your question?” The zephyri mercenary looked from Kseniya back to Brivaria.

  “It’ll do,” Kseniya said with a little huff.

  “You really do look just like Brivaria. I’d thought everyone was exaggerating about the resemblance,” Nyx confessed.

  “I did too,” Zenith agreed before turning back to the angel. “We should have dinner sometime and find out what else we have in common. Your friends may join us.”

  “I’d like that,” Brivaria found herself saying. She hadn’t been nervous about meeting Zenith but she also hadn’t known how it would play out either. It was entirely more cordial than what she’d envisioned in her head up to this point.

  “Then I will see you later. Try not to get into too much trouble between now and then. Oh and one more thing—don’t fly into the forest again.” Zenith’s words caused Brivaria’s heart to miss a beat as the mercenary woman strode away.