ã€ŠSymmetry of Magicã€‹


 Prologue

    Keeper Spire stared down at the sprawling city below him from his place atop the highest tower of the Eternal Castle. Genua''s streets stretched far and wide over the land, ringed in the remote distance by the wild growth of Perdition Forest. The sun had long since set, but the wide streets and narrow alleys between the countless stone buildings were lit here and there in the many hues of eternal flame.

    Keeper Spire looked down at his right palm. A purple flame sparked to life, spreading down to the tips of his fingers. The eternal flame danced and grew, shifting from purple to a deep, bloody red.

    It was in his power, Keeper Spire realized, to reach his hand out the tower window and rain eternal flame down upon the city. He had brought Genua into existence, and he could easily remove it with a swipe of his hand.

    Would it be for the better? he wondered. If the city ceased to exist¡­

    "Keeper Spire."

    The red flame extinguished as he closed his palm and turned to address the law marshal who had just stepped into the room. The man bowed low.

    "There has been talk on Market Street," the marshal said as he raised his head, "Lark Dunn and his men are looking to start something again with the Hillshires tomorrow."

    Keeper Spire raised a black eyebrow. Like the changing color of the eternal flame, his ancient eyes shifted from purple to red. His ageless face turned back toward the window.

    "Will this meaningless hatred never end¡­?" he murmured.

    "Sir?" the marshal questioned.

    Keeper Spire waved a hand in the air. "Send out whoever you can spare to patrol the streets around Market Street until further notice," he instructed. "We must prevent any fighting before it begins. I fear this ancestral feud has developed a taste for blood, as of late. We cannot allow it to satiate its thirst." He turned to the marshal, his eyes glowing yellow-orange. "Understood?"

    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    The man bowed again and went off to carry out his orders. Keeper Spire sighed and looked out the window, toward Market Street.

    It had been so many years since the Hillshire and Dunn clans began their feud, there were none now alive besides Spire himself who could remember what caused it in the first place. Even Keeper Spire, who had been there when the original Lords Dunn and Hillshire pledged their hatred toward each other, could not remember its origin. So many generations had passed. The feud was as old as the city of Genua itself. And the animosity between the families had only grown with the city. Long had it plagued Keeper Spire''s days and nights.

    I created this city as a sanctuary for my people, he thought with weariness. So why does it feel as though all these years it has merely served as a battleground for the foolhardy and the contemptuous?

    "I must put an end to it," he spoke aloud.

    His words seemed to float out the window and disperse above the city. There was a sense of finality to them. He had finally reached a decision, he realized. He knew what he must do.

    Keeper Spire turned from the window and stepped toward a large trunk, against the opposite wall. Carefully, he opened it and pulled out a box made of polished copper and padlocked shut. He ran a glowing thumb over the padlock and it clicked open.

    Stepping to a table at the center of the room, he set the copper box down upon its surface. Slowly, gently, he opened its lid. His face relaxed, almost into a smile. Within the box sat a round, dense stone, blacker than tar, with a pitted surface. A strange, humming energy filled the air.

    "I''m ready," he spoke into the box, as if the stone were a living, hearing being. "I''m ready to face what it is I must do."

    He reached in and clasped the stone.

 Chapter 1: Market Street

    The afternoon sky above Market Street was clear and bright. There were more marshals than usual patrolling its long, wide area. One could be seen in their black uniforms, standing or marching by every few sellers'' stalls. The sellers had noticed their arrival the night before. There must be trouble about, they whispered to each other. Keeper Spire must have caught wind of another potential brawl between the Dunns and Hillshires.

    Lark Dunn smirked from an alley as he watched yet another marshal pass by. What could they possibly do to stop him? He wasn''t doing anything that was against the laws of Genua. Not yet, anyway. If a fight broke out, he would be sure that it wasn''t him or any of his men who threw the first punch. He always was.

    It''s too easy to get a Hillshire thirsty for a quarrel, he thought with a sneer.

    He ran a hand through his raven-black hair. It fell to his shoulders in shining waves, framing his impish face and contrasting greatly with his orange eyes. The Dunn eyes¡ªfiery and bright, like the petals of an orange dahlia.

    Those piercing, cat-like eyes scanned the street once more. There were still plenty of marshals about, but it was only a matter of time until¡ª

    There was a shout to the left, then a loud clanging. A marshal came running down the street, striking a gong to call the other marshals to attention.

    "Five carts have crashed on Jolline Street!" the young marshal shouted, her face reddening with the effort. "All available marshals are to report to the site and help the injured, and to clear the road!"

    Sellers and shoppers alike chattered with shock and excitement. People stepped out of the way to clear a path for the marshal, still clanging her gong. Lark watched with satisfaction as black-suited marshals hurried along after her, running away from Market Street. He waited for a moment as the street returned to calm, then stepped from the alley into the full light of day.

    Further down the street, another man stepped from an alley. Lark grinned and nodded toward him. One of his loyal followers. And further along, more men were stepping into the light of Market Street. It was time for them to begin their prowl.

    Lark turned and began to stroll with nonchalance, glancing over the wares of the sellers lined along the road. But he wasn''t there to shop, not really. He was there to hunt.

    "¡­heard she''s never left the walls of the Dunn estate."

    Lark''s ears pricked at the mention of his family''s home. He turned his head ever so slightly until he caught sight of the speaker. His lips curled into a devilish grin.

    At one of the stalls opposite him, there stood two Hillshire men. He recognized them immediately by the silver cuffs on their right upper arms, stitched with the Hillshire crest¡ªa silver sun. They chatted loudly as they sorted through trinkets the seller was offering.

    "I wonder what she looks like," the first man went on. "Knowing that her mother, Dame Dunn, is such an indisputable beauty."

    The second man scoffed. "You reckon she actually exists? A hidden daughter?"

    Lark glanced up and down the street and spotted his men. Discreetly, he caught the attention of each of them and signaled for them to approach him.

    "What, you think the Dunns are lying about having a daughter?" the first man asked with a snort.

    The second man shrugged. "Could be. Maybe they weren''t able to produce an heir, and don''t want anyone to know."

    The back of Lark''s neck prickled with annoyance. Could they be speaking ill of his beloved aunt and uncle, Dame and Lord Dunn?

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    "Nah," the first man shook his head, "what would be the use in lying about it? No, I''m sure there''s some other reason she''s never been seen. I''ve heard, even within the Dunn clan, very few people have seen the girl in person."

    "Maybe Dame Dunn keeps her hidden because she doesn''t favor her mother''s looks," the second man said with a giggle. "Maybe¡­ they''ve kept her hidden all this time because she''s absolutely hideous!"

    The prickle on Lark''s neck turned to seething heat. His fingertips sparked with eternal flame, and he turned to face the two Hillshire men just as his own men drew in around him.

    "You there," he barked, and the Hillshires turned to him with surprise. "You dare speak so insultingly of my cousin?"

    The first man turned green. The second man spluttered foolishly.

    "Y-Your cousin?"

    "Aye, my cousin," he thundered. He stepped toward them, fingertips still sparking. "Layalla Dunn is not some hideous creature, locked away to spare the world of her face."

    The man continued to splutter as one of Lark''s men stepped up beside him. All around them, the sellers at the nearby stalls began to warily pack up their things and move off.

    "This man called Lady Layalla hideous?" Lark''s man asked, glaring at the Hillshire. "You dare to speak ill of such an innocent and kind Lady?"

    The Hillshire man shook his head. "I never meant¡ª"

    "You''re one to talk," Lark''s man spoke over him. He spat on the ground between them. "You''re uglier than the mangy dog that comes begging to my back door for scraps."

    The Hillshire man''s mouth hung open. "What did you just say?"

    "You heard me," Lark''s man went on, sneering. "They should keep you locked up in the Hillshire dungeon for showing that ugly mug of yours in public. Lord and Dame Hillshire should have to pay damages to the citizens of Genua for having to look at your nasty little face."

    The Hillshire man began to shake with rage. His companion stepped in front of him with a glare.

    "That''s enough out of you. We may have spoken wrong before, but we meant no harm in it."

    "What do you think?" Lark''s man turned to look at him, baring his teeth in a wicked smile. "How many babies has he made cry with that ugly face of his?"

    The second Hillshire pushed forward, his own fingertips sparking with eternal flame. His companion tried to hold him back, but it was obvious that he was too enraged.

    Lark smirked. Yes, that''s it¡­

    "What''s all this?"

    The smile fell from Lark''s face as he turned to see another Hillshire approaching.

    Damn it all!

    Celian Hillshire, nephew to Lord and Dame Hillshire, stepped up and placed a pacifying hand on the angry Hillshire man''s shoulder.

    "Do not give in to their taunts," he said in his calm, clear voice. "They only seek to make a joke of you."

    Lark glared at him. He hated everything about him. His pale Hillshire skin, his white Hillshire hair, and his silver Hillshire eyes. Just the sight of him made him sick with rage.

    "Step aside," Lark''s man warned Celian. "This is a dispute between men that does not involve you."

    Celian turned stoically to face him. He glanced down at the orange cuff on his upper right arm, stitched with the crest of the Dunn family¡ªa black skull.

    "There need be no dispute between any of us," Celian said. His peaceful demeanor only served to irritate Lark more. "You are men of Dunn, we are men of Hillshire. Let us just agree that we don''t like each other and move along. We shouldn''t waste our time with petty disagreements."

    "Petty?" Lark scoffed. He stepped forward so that he and Celian were practically nose-to-nose. "And what''s petty about these deplorable Hillshire scum insulting my Lady and my cousin, Layalla Dunn? Would not you defend your Lady, Dame Hillshire, if you heard some loathsome men speak ill of her?"

    Celian stared back into Lark''s eyes for a silent moment. Lark wished that he could put out those damnable silver Hillshire eyes. He gritted his teeth and glared back.

    "I apologize on behalf of these men for any offense that was caused," Celian said, bowing his head forward. "Please, forgive them their mistake."

    "I suppose he wouldn''t have the strength to defend his Lady, Dame Hillshire," one of Lark''s men spoke up. "Maybe she''s not even worth defending. Maybe she''s¡ª"

    But Lark''s man didn''t have time to finish his insult before the second Hillshire man pushed his way past Celian and sent a fiery red burst of eternal flame shooting toward him. The eternal flame hit him squarely in the chest and sent him flying backward against the stone of the street. Passersby began to shout and run from the scene, and within another moment, a full-on brawl had broken out.

    Bursts of eternal flame were flying back and forth between the men. More Hillshires and more Dunns joined the fray. Lark found himself opposite Celian, both his hands alight and ready to shoot off an attack at the white-haired Hillshire.

    "The marshals will be here any moment to put a stop to this," Celian warned, his aggravating calm finally slipping. "Must we go on in this way?"

    Lark grinned back at him.

    "Oh, we must."

    He shot a ball of blue-white eternal flame at Celian''s head.

 Chapter 2: Brawl

    Celian dodged another attack that Lark Dunn hurled his way. He refused to go on the offensive, refused to give in completely to Lark''s game. The only reason he hadn''t left Market Street already was to make sure none of his Hillshire kinsmen were severely hurt by the bloodthirsty Dunns.

    Where are the damned marshals¡­?

    But even as he thought this, he realized that they were already there. In every direction he glanced, he spotted the black uniforms of the marshals among the fighting men. They had joined the brawl, they were a part of it now.

    There was no end to the fighting in sight.

    "Coward!" Lark roared at him as he sent another flaming attack toward Celian''s head. He barely managed to dodge it, knocking over a seller''s stall in the process and sending pears and figs rolling through the street where they were immediately trampled by countless feet.

    Celian moved away from Lark, dodging another rogue fireball from a nearby skirmish. He held up his hands, showing his refusal to fight back.

    "Will you not end this until someone has lost their life?"

    Lark seemed to snarl back at him. "That''s the goal, isn''t it? I would see every Hillshire dead and cold on the ground before I would give up this fight."

    A terrible visualization flashed through Celian''s head: his parents, his aunt and uncle, his dear cousin, all still and blue-lipped, glassy-eyed, on the stone streets of Genua. His stomach churned at the idea, and a newfound anger filled his chest. Flames burst to life at his fingertips.

    "There is no point to this senseless hatred! You will find no satisfaction in the death of your so-called enemies!"

    "I beg to differ!" Lark bit back, shooting off another attack. "I find great satisfaction in the thought alone!"

    The rage in Celian''s chest swelled, along with the flames at his fingertips. Before he knew it, he was fighting back, sending bursts of eternal flame toward Lark. The fighting around them was chaos. The marshals had no control over the brawl, and the landscape was suffering from it. Countless sellers'' stalls were smashed to bits, toppled over, and even alight with uncontained eternal flame. There were shouts and cries of injured men. The world of Market Street was pandemonium. Celian wondered if he would even survive the day.

    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    And then a great flash of light. People gasped and stumbled out of the way as a fireball of incomparable size exploded at the center of the street. All turned to face the astonishing sight, and the fighting paused.

    The pillar of eternal flame in the street burned with every color imaginable. Blue-gray smoke filled the air, and more people gasped as a tall figure stepped out of the flames.

    "Keeper Spire!" someone shouted.

    The people were rendered speechless. Keeper Spire? Here, on Market Street? But he hadn''t been seen outside of the Eternal Castle in generations¡­

    Some people fell to their knees, others bowed, but most just stood and stared, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. The pillar of eternal flame reduced until it disappeared, leaving behind only a haze of smoke. Keeper Spire, Lord and leader of all of Genua, stared back at the people with his color-shifting eyes.

    "What have I come upon today?" he spoke, and the sound of his voice made Celian''s very bones shiver.

    Keeper Spire began to walk along the street, looking from face to face of each citizen that he passed.

    "Have not I banned fighting in these streets?" he went on, his ageless face unreadable. "Have not I forbid attacking your fellow man?"

    Celian hung his head in shame. What had come over him? Surely, his will was strong enough to withstand the childish taunts of the likes of Lark Dunn. But here he was, palms still smoldering with eternal flame, chest heaving from the effort of fighting. And now Keeper Spire, the creator and leader of his city, was looking down on him with disappointment. He''d never felt such remorse before.

    "The feud between the Dunns," Keeper Spire pointed a large, steady hand toward Lark, "and the Hillshires," he pointed next to Celian, "must end. Look around you!"

    Celian did as he said. Market Street was in ruins. Stalls and goods smashed against the stone streets, wooden carts smoldering with eternal flame, and men and women laid out with injuries, moaning with pain. And all of this for what? An inherited rivalry and a perceived, petty insult. Celian was sick with guilt.

    "If this does not end, then all of Genua will be brought to ruin by the fires of your hatred," Keeper Spire went on. "It is intolerable. It is unacceptable. It is disgraceful."

    His last word seemed to echo through the air. Celian looked at Lark Dunn, but the impossible man only stared ahead, down Market Street. Was he even listening to Keeper Spire?

    "Fighting in these streets is forbidden." Keeper Spire''s voice boomed so loudly, it seemed to clear the last of the smoke hanging around them. "From this day forward, any citizen caught fighting, whether they be Dunn or Hillshire, shall pay for this offense with their life."

    Lark Dunn snapped to attention at these words. His orange eyes finally looked to Keeper Spire.

    "Heed my words," Keeper Spire repeated, and he seemed to be speaking directly to Lark. "Any man or woman who starts a fight with an opposing clan member shall be put to death. No exceptions."

 Chapter 3: The "Prince" of Genua

    Nimo Spire waited impatiently in one of the many decadent rooms of the Dunn estate. He''d been within its walls many a time to attend the countless parties that Dame Dunn so liked to put on, but he couldn''t remember if he''d ever been within this particular room.

    It''s more like a palace than a home, he thought with a frown. Its size nearly rivals that of the Eternal Castle.

    Just the thought of the castle brought a sense of conceited pride to Nimo. Being a relative of Keeper Spire himself, it was hard for Nimo not to feel superior to all others in Genua. He sighed as he glanced around the well-furnished room.

    I suppose as far as status goes, the heads of the Dunn clan are the closest to reaching my own status in all of Genua¡­

    The door to the grand parlor opened, and in stepped a shockingly beautiful woman, dressed head to toe in dark green lace. Her auburn hair flowed over her shoulders and nearly reached her waist, shiny and straight. She smiled at him, but the sentiment did not reach her dazzling eyes.

    Those eyes¡­ Nimo stared back at her for a moment, stunned.

    Her eyes were the color of purple nightshade, cold and mesmerizing. He couldn''t help but feel that one wrong look from her may send a man to an early grave. Though he had met the Lady of the Dunn estate more than once before, her eyes never ceased to render him temporarily speechless.

    He cleared his throat and stood from his seat.

    "Dame Dunn," he said with a respectful bow of his head. "You''re looking quite well."

    "As are you, dear Nimo," she said, smiling wider and extending a hand to him. He kissed it politely, relishing in the softness of her bare skin. She indicated that they both should sit.

    Nimo couldn''t help himself from watching the Lady as she moved through the room to her own seat, opposite his. She was a mother, and had long been married to Lord Dunn, but she was still young, and looked even younger than her years. If he remembered correctly, she was little more than eleven when she married the Lord of the estate, and couldn''t have been more than seventeen when she had Layalla, her daughter. That meant she was currently only about thirty-five, which also meant she was less than eight years older than Nimo. She was likely the most beautiful woman he''d seen in all of Genua.

    "I''m so happy you were able to come and speak to us, Nimo," Dame Dunn said, still smiling in that cold, yet enticing way. "From what you indicated in your message, we have much of importance to discuss."

    "Yes," Nimo nodded in his bored way. "I''d like it if we could just jump straight to business, if you don''t mind. I''m not one for useless pleasantries."

    A haughty smirk passed over the Lady''s face.

    "I''m glad to hear it. I do so detest dawdling and wasting time. Then let us get on with it."

    Nimo smiled and opened his mouth to begin his proposition, but just then, Lord Dunn himself stepped through the doors of the parlor.

    "Pardon my tardiness," the large man said, donning a sheepish smile. He was tall and broad, but somehow unimposing. His hair was black, streaked with grey, and his eyes were the smoldering orange that identified him as a Dunn, through and through. Though he was the head of the state, by inheritance rights, he seemed always to defer to his much more commanding wife.

    Nimo stood wearily to greet him. He would have much rather dealt with Dame Dunn alone, though it probably didn''t make much of a difference whether Lord Dunn were present or not. Although, it did put a damper on his admiration of the Lady''s beauty, having her husband of many years present.

    Nimo did his best to ignore Lord Dunn as they all settled back into their seats, and he returned to the business at hand.

    "It has come to my attention, my dear heads of this esteemed Dunn estate, that your daughter, Lady Layalla, is soon to be introduced to Genua society."

    The Lord and Dame Dunn exchanged a look before the Lady urged him to continue.

    "I''ve never met Lady Layalla," Nimo went on, "but I have heard from those who''ve been lucky enough to see her that she is a young woman of great beauty and impeccable character. It''s because of this that I am eager to meet her, as soon as possible. See, I''ve reached a point in my life at which I''m ready to find a suitable wife and settle down to create a family of my own. And I can think of no one else in all of Genua more suitable than your esteemed daughter."

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    As Nimo prattled on, Dame Dunn pulled a folding fan from her sleeve and delicately opened it, gently fanning her face. When he finished his spiel and the room fell silent, she seemed to be deep in thought. Nimo looked to Lord Dunn, hoping for a response, but the large man only watched his wife, seemingly awaiting her opinion before ever offering his own.

    What could she possibly have to consider? he wondered to himself with a twinge of irritation, though he hid the feeling from his face. I''m a relation of Keeper Spire himself¡ªI''m practically a prince of Genua! What better match could they find for their daughter?

    Nimo licked his lips as he awaited Dame Dunn''s response. The truth was, he was only getting older, and he''d heard talk of not only Lady Layalla''s beauty, but her high affinity for Dark magic. Being a Spire, Nimo had been destined to become a Neutral, a being of weak and unsettled magic, neither Light nor Dark. He could certainly wield the eternal flame, but if he ever came to blows with either a Hillshire¡ªthose with affinity to Light magic¡ªor a Dunn¡ªthose with affinity to Dark magic¡ªthen he would surely be bested. But if he were to marry someone with a high affinity, then surely no one would challenge him, especially if that marriage would one day place him as one of the heads of the Dunn clan.

    "So, it is marriage that you''ve come here to speak of," Dame Dunn finally said, raising her fan to hide her chin in a girlish way that made Nimo''s stomach do a little internal flip.

    She smiled over the fan at him, her purple eyes cold and piercing as ever. He found himself wondering what her lips might taste like.

    "You are proposing that a match be made between yourself and our daughter, Layalla?" Dame Dunn went on, rattling him from his imagination.

    "Yes, my Lady," he said with a slight bow of his head. "I believe there is no better match for me in Genua, and I dare say there is no better match for your daughter than myself."

    Dame Dunn closed her fan with a quick snap before standing and sweeping across the floor to stand behind her husband. She placed a hand on his shoulder, all the while keeping her cold, purple eyes focused on Nimo.

    "Our daughter is young," she began, soft and lilting. "She hasn''t yet even made her debut in Genua society. But she is also quite skilled. There is no other like her in all of Genua when it comes to magical ability. She''s been wielding the eternal flame since before she even spoke her first word." Her delectable smiling lips pursed into a distracting pout. "But what of your affinity, Nimo Spire? Does it measure up to that of my daughter''s?"

    Nimo''s stomach tied itself into a knot of annoyance. This woman dared question his ability? But he couldn''t deny it¡ªhis affinity was toward Neutral magic, which meant he could never match Lady Layalla''s ability. But why should that matter when he was practically a prince of Genua by blood?

    "I admit, I have much to learn from your daughter when it comes to magic," Nimo finally said, feigning humility. "But what I lack in magical ability, I know I make up for in name. Keeper Spire is my uncle, after all."

    "Yes, but how many generations removed?" Lord Dunn finally chimed in, a small, infuriating smile on his lips. "Seeing how Keeper Spire is over a thousand years old, you must be his great-great-great¡­ Oh, who knows how many greats¡­ let''s just say, his great-great-grand-nephew!"

    Nimo forced the smile that he wore.

    "My uncle, Keeper Spire, has been gifted with eternal life. What does it matter, then, how many generations it''s been between his birth and mine? We are still linked by both blood and name."

    "All good points," Dame Dunn said, and Nimo was sure that she gave her husband''s shoulder a tight squeeze before stepping elegantly back to her own seat. "But how can you know that you want to marry Layalla when you''ve never even laid eyes on her?"

    Dame Dunn had him there. Maybe, Lady Layalla was a horrible creature that rendered a man speechless with one look. Maybe she was unattractive and unappealing. But did he really care about any of that? What did it matter, if by marrying her, it placed him as the next head of the Dunn estate? He could put up with an ugly wife if it brought him the power and comfort he was accustomed to. Besides, there was always other women to bring him comfort when he needed it.

    "Let me see her now, then," Nimo stated boldly. "Bring her before me, and I shall see if the rumors of her beauty are true."

    Dame Dunn smiled and looked at her husband.

    "There''s no need to rush anything," she said softly. "I cannot agree to a marriage between yourself and my daughter until I see the two of you meet, and until I see that my daughter is just as eager to marry you as you her. That is why I propose that you attend a party I am throwing in three days'' time."

    Nimo cocked an eyebrow.

    "A party?"

    "Yes," Dame Dunn''s purple eyes met his, and he was frozen in place. "In three days, we are hosting a party to introduce our beloved Layalla to Genua society. If you were to attend, it would be the perfect opportunity to woo Layalla and gain her favor, and thus you would gain our consent to allow you to marry."

    Nimo took a moment to process what she said¡ªif he were to attend the upcoming party at the Dunn estate for Layalla, and if he were to meet the young Lady and gain her affection, then Dame and Lord Dunn would gladly allow him to marry their daughter.

    "Win her over," Dame Dunn continued, interrupting his thoughts. "Make her fall for you, as it''s so easy for young women her age to do. If she likes you and you like her, then it is a match written in the stars."

    Nimo smiled back at her. It would be easier than a snap of his fingers.

 Chapter 4: A Cage for a Cage

    A finch flew over the orchard on the Dunn Estate, sweeping from tree to tree. Layalla Dunn stood beneath a pear tree and watched it fly.

    She lifted her hand and sparked to life a yellow eternal flame. It took on the shape of a finch and flew into the air, mimicking the flight of the bird. As it flew higher, it appeared more and more lifelike, until it was indistinguishable from the real finch. The two birds danced with each other through the air, and Layalla''s orange eyes followed them with bright interest.

    "Layalla, my child!"

    Her concentration faltered and her fake finch sparked in the air. The sudden flash of light startled the real finch, and off it flew, over the walls of the estate and far out of Layalla''s sight. The smile fell from her face and she gave up her little game, allowing her fake finch to dissolve into a puff of smoke as she turned to greet her approaching father.

    "Layalla," Lord Dunn called her name again as he reached her, stopping to stand beside her beneath the pear tree. "Practicing your magic?"

    She smiled up at him, folding her hands respectfully in front of herself.

    "More like playing than practicing," she admitted. "It''s such a lovely, clear day, I couldn''t stop myself from going for a walk about the estate."

    Lord Dunn shielded his eyes from the sun as he looked up to the bright sky above them.

    "Indeed, it is a lovely day. Do you mind if I join you on your walk?"

    They began to stroll around the perimeter of the estate wall. Layalla stared up at its brown bricks, wishing that she could have followed along after the finch.

    But she had never once left the walls of the Dunn estate.

    From the day she was born, she had remained within the walls, and had never been permitted to leave them. She''d stopped asking why long ago¡ªshe always received the same answer.

    "You are special, Layalla," her mother would say. "Your birth was foretold. You''re destined for greatness in this world. We cannot allow you into society until we''re sure you''re ready¡­"

    It was strange, every time she thought of the circumstances of her birth. Long before she was ever conceived¡ªbefore her father and mother ever even met¡ªher great-grandmother had a vision of a child born on the Dunn estate, a child who was destined to wield a great and important power.

    Her mother had whispered the words of the prophecy to her many a time:

    Born under a black moon on a starless night

    Illuminated by eternal light

    A child is born so pure and bright

    A savior come to end all plight

    And thus, she had been born. Almost eighteen years before, a night blacker than any in memory fell upon the city of Genua. A great shadow seemed to pass over the full moon, and not a single star was visible in the sky. Her mother went into labor and delivered a healthy baby girl¡ªand as Layalla was pushed into this world from her mother''s womb, her entire body had been wreathed in eternal flame.

    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    Nothing like it had ever been seen before. Both the baby and the mother were unharmed. The words of the prophecy seemed to have come true.

    And ever since, the walls of the estate had been Layalla''s cage.

    But her sentencing was very close to coming to an end. In less than a week, she would have her eighteenth birthday, and then she would finally be introduced to Genua society. The key to her freedom was so close at hand¡­

    "What is it that''s gotten you so lost in thought, my child?"

    She blinked and focused on her father, who was watching her closely as they slowly strolled along. She smiled at him, genuine and warm.

    "I was thinking of my party," she admitted, cheeks warm with a flush of excitement. "I''m eager to make my debut and meet so many new people!"

    Lord Dunn smiled back at her. He held out his arm, offering it to her, and she gladly took it. He gave her hand a light squeeze.

    "That is precisely what I wished to speak to you about. You''ll be meeting all kinds of people at this party. And there''s one person in particular who may prove to be more important than all the rest."

    Layalla raised a dark eyebrow and looked at him, questioning.

    "Earlier today, your mother and I had a visitor," her father went on, staring ahead as they continued to walk, arm in arm. "A man by the name of Nimo Spire¡ªyou may have heard of him before. He is a relation of our great leader, Keeper Spire, and an esteemed young man. Well, this Nimo Spire came to the estate today to ask your mother and me if we may consider an arrangement between him and our family."

    Layalla frowned with confusion. "An arrangement?"

    Her father nodded. "Yes. You see, Nimo Spire is yet unwed. And he is very interested in finding a wife. That is why he came to us¡ªbecause he sees great potential in you, Layalla."

    She came to a halt. Her head was spinning.

    "Great potential¡­ in me?"

    Her father finally turned to look at her, but his orange eyes were unreadable.

    "Potential as a wife, you mean?" she went on, a slight quiver in her voice. "Nimo Spire means to ask for my hand in marriage?"

    He nodded, gently taking both of her hands in his own.

    "Nothing has been decided, yet, though," he assured her, but his words didn''t stop her head from its spinning. "We''ve only agreed that the two of you shall meet during the party. And if there is anything between you, then we shall move on to real talks of marriage."

    Layalla felt woozy. Marriage? But how could this be? She hadn''t even won her freedom yet, and here was a whole new kind of cage, waiting to lock her in as soon as she was released from her current one.

    "Isn''t this all a bit sudden?" she said with a hollow laugh. "Aren''t I too young to be thinking of marriage yet, especially since I''ve yet to join society?"

    Lord Dunn smiled and shook his head. "I''d been married to your mother for many years by the time she was your age. No, I think it''s the perfect time to be thinking of marriage."

    Layalla''s palms, still clasped in her father''s hands, began to sweat.

    "But I do not wish to make a match that doesn''t suit you," he went on. "That''s why we want the two of you to meet, to get to know a little about each other, before we reach any final decision. If after the party, you find no objections with Nimo Spire, then we can begin the wedding plans."

    Her eyes fell to the ground between their feet. Her long-promised freedom was already slipping through her fingers.

    "You must promise me," Lord Dunn said, gently tilting Layalla''s chin up so that her eyes met his once again, "that you will try to like him, at least. Nimo Spire is a nephew of Keeper Spire. This would be an incredibly advantageous match for you, Layalla. You''ll not likely find another man of his stature in all of Genua."

    She pressed her lips together, holding back the many words she wished to speak. How could her parents trade their own daughter off to a strange man, all for the exchange of societal status? She pushed down the poisonous betrayal she felt, deep within her gut.

    After all, isn''t this what daughters were for?

    She forced a smile, even as her eyes threatened tears.

    "I''ll try, father. I''ll do my best."

    He beamed down at her and bent to kiss her forehead.

    "You are our greatest treasure, Layalla. We only want what''s best for you."

    She held her fake smile as they parted, and she turned toward the main manor of the estate.

    She needed to talk to Maira, immediately.

 Chapter 5: The Unseen Sister

    Layalla found Maira right where she expected to¡ªsitting in the window of her small room on the top floor of the main manor. She was bent over a black dress, stitching away. The dress Layalla was to wear to her debut party.

    Maira raised her head, her straight, black hair pulled back in a neat braid, and smiled when she heard Layalla enter the room. She motioned for Layalla to join her on the window seat, moving aside scraps of fabric and sewing tools to make space. Layalla settled down with a heavy sigh.

    Maira paused as she got a better look at Layalla''s face.

    "Oh dear¡­ what''s happened?"

    Layalla stared into her eyes. They were the most striking thing about Maira, who was otherwise small and meek¡ªone eye was orange, while the other was purple. Layalla felt those strange eyes studying her with tenderness.

    And then she couldn''t hold it in any longer. Tears began to stream down Layalla''s face, and she let her head fall into her hands.

    "I should have known," she said with misery. "I should have known it could never be¡­"

    Maira pushed away her sewing project and wrapped her arms around Layalla. They clung to each other, and Layalla softly cried while Maira rubbed a gentle hand across her back.

    "Maira¡­" Layalla said with gasping breaths. "We''ll never truly be free¡­ They''re already planning to marry me off!"

    Maira squeezed her tighter. Here was the only person in the entire world who truly understood Layalla. If anything, Maira felt her pain even more deeply than she did.

    She felt a pang of guilt, as she often did when coming to Maira with her woes. Layalla had been a prisoner of the Dunn estate her whole life, but at least she''d had hope of escape someday, had dreams of being accepted into the society beyond the walls.

    But Maira would never be accepted. She''d never had a promise of escape.

    Maira pulled back and gently wiped the tears from Layalla''s cheeks.

    "My lovely flame," Maira said softly. "Tell me what has happened, sister."

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    And there was the injustice of it all. Layalla was a daughter of the Dunns, a daughter who had been kept from the public eye since her birth. But she was known to the public. She was considered with the respect that came with the Dunn name.

    But no one knew there was a living, second Dunn daughter.

    No one, that is, except for Layalla and her parents. Maira''s very existence had become a secret since she was little more than four years old.

    She had been born five years before Layalla. All had seemed well¡ªshe was a healthy, happy child. But by the time she was three, she was sickly and weak. A powerful healer paid a visit to the Dunn estate, and Lord and Dame Dunn learned a terrible truth: their daughter would live, but she would never be able to wield magic. In fact, she had never possessed the ability in the first place¡ªshe had been born without any affinity toward magic.

    Her parents were horrified. A child born without magic? How could this be? She would never survive in Genua! And the very power that the Dunn clan held would come into question if word of a magicless daughter were to get out¡­

    So, Maira was erased. The story that was spread was that the young Dunn daughter did not survive her sickness. The leaders of the Dunn clan were once again childless. And Maira was locked away within the estate, hidden until she reached an age at which she could be reintroduced as a servant.

    All her life, Maira had been there to share in Layalla''s struggles. She knew what it was to be caged away from the world¡ªshe knew more intimately than anyone else, because she had been through even worse. She had lost her freedom and her identity. To the eyes of others, Maira was merely a servant who acted as a playmate to the young Lady of the house. But the two girls knew that they were bound by more than just sisterly blood. They had been each other''s sanctuary for all these long years.

    Layalla had been planning on taking Maira everywhere with her. The moment she was allowed to leave the estate, she would have insisted that Maira join her as a chaperone. But now¡­

    Now she couldn''t know what would happen. If she were to marry Nimo Spire, would he allow her to bring Maira with her? Would her parents let her leave the Dunn estate, to go off and work as a servant under Layalla''s new husband? Her plans were all falling to ruin, right before her eyes.

    She explained to Maira all that their father had told her of Nimo Spire and the potential marriage arrangement. Even as she blubbered and spoke of her worries for the future, she was racked with heavy guilt. What must Maira be feeling hearing this, knowing that she may lose her one empathetic companion in the world?

    Though Layalla had been caged within the walls of the estate all her life, at least she had been constantly showered with praises for her apparent "importance" due to the prophecy and her advanced skill when it came to Dark magic. But Maira had no affinity for magic whatsoever, and she was forced to act as a servant instead of a member of the family. She was belittled and forgotten, used and erased. And yet, she was still there for Layalla, still the sister that she needed and could turn to.

    "Hush now, lovely flame," Maira whispered, wiping away more tears. "This is not the end. We will get through this, together."

    Layalla swallowed her tears and looked back at her sister, grateful. She nodded.

    "Together."

 Chapter 6: Another Secret

    The Hillshire estate had no walls to keep people out¡ªor to hold them in. Dame Hillshire had fallen in love with it the first moment she laid eyes on the grand, ivy-hung facade of the main manor house.

    Compared to the carved pillars and intricate mosaics of the Dunn estate, the buildings on the Hillshire estate were much more humble. But Dame Hillshire loved them all the more for it.

    Greenery seemed to cling to every surface, and each building and shed was separated by wide, lush gardens. Even now, as she paced at the entrance of the main manor house, she looked out upon the flower garden that lined the paved lane.

    "He is a grown man," she murmured aloud to herself, wringing her hands. "He is too old to have his mother worrying over him¡­"

    She couldn''t help it, though. Ever since Keeper Spire had announced his law against fighting three days before¡ªa law, if broken, would be repaid with one''s life¡ªshe couldn''t help herself from imagining the worst. Her one and only child, Beck Hillshire, was a spirited young boy, with even more spirited friends. What if he found himself in a predicament that ended in an unavoidable tussle between himself and a Dunn?

    "He''s nineteen years old," she reminded herself, scolding. "He''s plenty old enough to avoid such situations¡­"

    Yes, she trusted her son. The real problem was, she didn''t trust the Dunns. That wretched Lark Dunn was well known for stirring up trouble. But would he be so bold to do so, even after such a boundary had been set by Keeper Spire?

    It was certainly possible.

    "Oh!" she huffed, staring out over the estate property. "Where is he?"

    Almost as if she conjured them up with her words, a figure came into view far off on the paved lane that led to where she stood at the manor''s entrance. Her breath caught in her throat for a moment, and she smiled until she realized that it wasn''t her son. Celian Hillshire¡ªher nephew and one of Beck''s closest companions¡ªwas approaching, not her son.

    She picked up the skirt of her pale blue dress, and walked out to meet him. A light breeze picked up the loose strands of her strawberry-blond hair and stirred the scent of fresh blooms. They stood framed on each side by the flower garden.

    "My Lady," Celian greeted her with a bow of his head.

    "Celian, I''m glad to see you!" she reached out to take one of his hands. "I must know: have you seen your cousin, Beck, today?"

    Celian grinned back at her, his silver eyes sparkling. "I believe I have. I spotted him on my way here, moping about in the fruit orchard."

    Dame Hillshire sagged with relief, then immediately perked up again.

    "Moping? Whatever could he be moping about?"

    Celian turned and bent to sniff a nearby white lily flower.

    "No idea." He gave her a boyish smirk, running a hand through his white Hillshire hair. "Shall I investigate for you?"

    She returned his smile. "Would you? I''ve been so worried about him lately. He hasn''t been acting like himself at all, and with Keeper Spire''s decree¡­ Well, I would very much appreciate it if you could talk to him and see what might be going on. He''d probably rather speak with you, his cousin and friend, than his mother, anyway."

    "Nonsense," Celian plucked the white lily and offered it to her. "Beck loves you dearly. However, there are some things which are a bit¡­embarrassing to discuss with your mother."

    She stifled a laugh. "That''s exactly my point."

    "Don''t you worry, my Lady," Celian said, turning on his heel to head back toward the fruit orchard. "I''ll get to the bottom of this."

    She waved to him as he went, happy she could call upon such a loyal friend to help her son. But she still couldn''t shake off the sense of dread in the pit of her stomach.

    *****

    Beck stared up at the branches of the fig tree above him and let out his third big sigh of the past five minutes. The sky above was clear and blue, but it may as well have been gray and stormy for all that he could enjoy it.

    I am nothing but a disappointment, he thought bitterly.

    A face popped into view above him, blocking out the sky completely.

    "What''s this? Having a nap?"

    Beck sighed again and rolled onto his side.

    "Leave me be, Celian. I need to be alone right now¡­"

    His cousin poked him in the ribs, making him squirm.

    "It seems to me you''ve already had plenty of alone time. Now, care to share your thoughts?"

    Beck huffed and sat up, glaring at him. Celian only grinned back.

    "If you must know, I am dealing with the biggest humiliation of my life, and it''s bound to only get worse from here."

    "Hm," Celian said, picking a twig from Beck''s white hair and flicking it away. "Sounds very serious."

    "Oh, you don''t care," Beck grunted as he pushed himself to his feet and began stomping through the orchard. "You''ve only come here to laugh at me."

    Celian followed along after him, chipper as ever.

    "Though I do love to laugh, I also care. And I''ve been sent here by someone else who cares, as well."

    Beck paused his stomping to send Celian a questioning look.

    "Your mother is very worried about you," his cousin elaborated. "I think she fears you might do something drastic."

    "Drastic?" Beck wrinkled his nose and returned to stomping. "If shutting myself in my room for the rest of my life is considered drastic, then I suppose her worries are warranted."

    Celian scratched his temple. "That does seem a bit severe of a decision to come to." He placed a gentle hand on Beck''s shoulder, bringing them both to a halt. "So, please, before you go and lock yourself up, could you at least explain to me what caused you to consider this solution?"

    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    Beck looked into his cousin''s eyes¡ªsilver Hillshire eyes that mirrored his own. They could be brothers, with how much they favored each other in looks. However, Celian was older, with a more serious, mature set to his jaw. His white hair was longer, and had more of a curl to it as compared to Beck''s, which was short and straight. The silver of Celian''s eyes, too was lighter, more blueish, while Beck''s were deeper and more grey.

    They had grown up together almost as brothers. Celian was an irreplaceable friend, one who knew him better even than he knew himself. He was glad to have him around.

    Beck let out yet another sigh and hung his head.

    "I''m a disgrace."

    "Come, now," Celian said in that joking way of his, "nobody is perfect."

    Beck couldn''t help but laugh as he lifted his head.

    "I wish I could be more like you, Celian. You always see the good in everything. You''re able to make a joke out of the worst of things, and laugh at your own mistakes. The only thing I''m good at is sinking into my own misery¡ªmisery that I''ve caused myself."

    Celian pursed his lips. "While I do appreciate the compliment, it''s rather soured by your self-deprecation." He reached out and grasped Beck by the shoulders, squeezing gently. "There''s nothing you could have done to make me think less of you, so you mustn''t be so hard on yourself."

    Beck tried to smile at him, but it was no use.

    "I wish I could be normal, Celian. I wish I could just have magic, like you."

    Celian relinquished him and took a step back.

    "You didn''t choose the way you were born, Beck," he stated. "And, as I said, I don''t think any less of you. Just because you were born without magic, doesn''t mean you''re less worthy than anyone else in Genua."

    Beck scoffed and turned away.

    "Yeah," he muttered, "well, try telling that to Peonia Howerthon¡­"

    Celian blinked at him.

    "Peonia¡­?"

    Beck began to stomp off again, but Celian was quick to catch up to him.

    "I knew it," Celian said with a satisfied nod. "I knew this would all come back to some girl."

    Beck spun to face him.

    "Peonia is not just ''some girl!''" he snapped. "She was the girl." He groaned and sagged against a nearby tree trunk. "Damn me to hellfire! And now she knows what I really am¡­"

    Celian put up his hands and shook his head.

    "From the beginning, please?"

    Beck sucked in a deep breath and began to spill it all to Celian: He met Peonia Howerthon at a Hillshire party. Before he could stop himself, he''d lied to her about being able to wield Light magic, and then she''d promised to give him magic lessons, one-on-one. They''d met up a few times, and he''d managed to fumble his way through each lesson without exposing the truth¡­ but then, the week before, they''d met up for their newest lesson. And when Peonia had tried to get Beck to demonstrate his magic, the truth finally came out.

    "Do you know what she did?" he asked Celian, shaking his head. "She laughed. Right in my face. She laughed and told me to never speak to her again."

    Celian winced. "Wicked girl¡­ Who knew there could be such cruelty behind a sweet face?"

    Beck''s hand shot out and gripped Celian by the arm.

    "It was justified. I lied to her! She had every right to react as she did¡­" his grip loosened, and he leaned back against the tree trunk before sliding down to a sitting position. "You know, I almost began to think that she might actually be able to teach me to use magic. That she could awaken the Light magic somewhere within me." He pounded his fist lightly against his chest. "But it turns out, I''m hollow. I''m hopeless¡­"

    Celian squatted beside him so that they were eye-to-eye.

    "You''re not hopeless. You''ve lived the last nineteen years without magic, why shouldn''t you be able to live a hundred more? Obviously, you can get on just fine without it."

    Beck gave him an unconvinced look.

    "How am I supposed to be head of the Hillshire clan someday when I''m powerless and magicless?"

    Celian sighed and settled into a sitting position beside his cousin.

    "Oh, here we go¡­ Listen, you. We''ve gone over this before: You don''t need magic to be accepted by the Hillshires. I know you don''t have magic, your parents know it, Dellen knows it¡ªand we all love and accept you, just the same."

    Beck''s face fell into his hands.

    "Why, then, have my parents kept it hidden from everyone else, all my life?"

    Celian frowned. "Because it''s something that most people in Genua aren''t used to. They haven''t encountered someone without magic before. But if you give them time, they will come to terms with it. It may be a slow process, but they will. Or, they''ll have to, because whether they like it or not, you''re going to be the next Lord of the Hillshire clan. Besides," Celian gave him a crooked smile, "by the time you ascend to that position, you''ll have proved yourself more than worthy, magic or not."

    Beck only stared back at him with a weary expression.

    "What if Peonia tells everyone about me? They won''t have time to slowly accept it if the secret is suddenly out there for all to know."

    Celian shrugged. "Then we''ll face that problem when it comes. But something tells me that Peonia wouldn''t be so bold as to betray the Lord and Dame of the Hillshire clan. I''d hope she is cleverer than that, at least."

    Beck groaned and covered his face with his hands.

    "She is clever. And bright, and sweet, and beautiful, and¡ª"

    "Enough of that!" Celian spoke over him, half-chuckling. He hoisted Beck back to his feet and picked more twigs and leaves from his cousin''s hair before giving him a firm pat on the back. "All we need to do is find something that will get this girl off your mind, and then you''ll be good as new again."

 Chapter 8: Open Invitation

    The only place in all of Genua that felt like home to Beck besides the Hillshire estate was Grand Baron Vernon''s herb garden. The Baron''s humble dwelling was located just outside the Eternal Castle¡ªa small, stone structure, the same as every other Baron''s, save for the private, walled courtyard connected to it. The Grand Baron was the only peacekeeper awarded with such a privilege, and Vernon had used it to cultivate a garden of the medicinal variety.

    It was here that Beck liked to come on days when his head was so full of thoughts, it felt as though it may burst. Grand Baron Vernon was the best listener he''d ever met. He carried no judgment and never poked fun. He only listened, contemplated, and offered his wisdom when he could. Beck always felt lighter and more refreshed after his discussions with the Grand Baron.

    But today, Vernon wasn''t in his garden. None of the other Barons seemed to be in their dwellings, either. Stranger still, the marshals'' barracks were also deserted. What could have possibly called away every peacekeeper in the city?

    Beck sighed and leaned against the wall of the herb garden. He considered climbing over it and waiting until Vernon returned. He''d done so before¡ªjust the week prior, in fact, after Peonia had left him heartbroken and humiliated, when she had laughed in his face and told him to never speak to her again. The poor Grand Baron had received more than an earful of woes that day.

    But what did he even want to say to Vernon once he returned? He''d already spilled every miserable thought over the previous days. The Grand Baron had surely grown weary of his misfortunes. Still, he felt he needed to do something, or he''d go mad with his own thoughts.

    Simply existing in this world is embarrassing¡­ I''m ashamed to even be alive.

    He was a moment away from giving in and climbing over the garden wall when a whistle caught his attention. He turned to find two men approaching him. They stepped from the shadow of the marshals'' barracks building, and Beck immediately stood straight with recognition.

    "Celian, Dellen!" he called out to them.

    The taller of the two strode ahead to meet him, looking him up and down.

    "And I thought this was Beck, but I see now I was mistaken." Dellen pursed his lips and squinted at him. "Though you do look a bit like him¡­but something just isn''t right." He glanced toward Celian. "Could it be that our dear Beck has been possessed by some sort of listless, ghostly spirit?"

    Beck frowned back at his older friend. "Drinking so early in the day, are you, Dellen?"

    "No, no," Celian stepped up beside Dellen, grinning. "He has a point. You''ve a sickly sheen to you, Beck. Pale, and very reminiscent of a ghost."

    Dellen turned to Celian with mock concern. "Should we call for a healer? Have them perform an exorcism?"

    Beck rolled his eyes. "Clever. But if you''d ever felt the way I have, you''d know not to make such trivial jokes." He made a point of pushing past the two before stalking off, beyond the barracks building and back to the street.

    The other two followed along after him, not a care in the world.

    "Well, there you have it," Dellen said loudly. He made the motion of dusting off his hands, as if he''d just finished some hard labor. "We''ve never felt the way he has, Celian. We couldn''t possibly know what he''s going through!"

    "Now, now, Dellen," Celian said, patting his taller friend on the shoulder. "You forget what it''s like the first time¡ªfirst heartache is always the worst."

    Dellen scoffed. "That''s precisely why he should hurry up and get on to his next one! It really helps to put the whole thing into perspective."

    Beck turned to face them, bringing them all to a halt.

    "There will be no second heartbreak!" He glared at each of them. "She was the only one for me! How could anyone else possibly compare?"

    Dellen rolled his eyes toward Celian, grinning.

    "It''s become quite obvious that our young friend doesn''t get out enough¡­ He sees one pretty girl, and he thinks he''s met the last beauty in the world."

    Beck fumed. "Yes, Peonia is beautiful beyond compare! But it''s about more than her beauty¡ªit''s about her soul!"

    Dellen groaned and leaned against Celian''s shoulder, as if the very sound of Beck''s voice weighed him down.

    Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    "He speaks of souls, now. Celian, please find a pail of cold water. I fear he''s lost his senses completely. We must awaken him from this delirium!"

    Celian stifled his laughter as Beck huffed and turned to stomp away again. The relentless pair only followed after him, as before.

    "Do you think he would be in such a sour mood if he knew that I''m currently in possession of the cure to all his ails?" Dellen said to Celian, leaning over as if he were sharing a secret, but speaking more than loud enough for Beck to hear.

    Celian smiled back at him. "It might warm him up a bit."

    Beck glared over his shoulder and continued his heavy march, even though he had no destination in mind.

    "Oh, but see how he moves so quickly away from us?" Dellen clucked his tongue. "It must be a resentful, wearisome spirit that has possessed our friend¡­"

    Beck spun to face them, arms crossed.

    "Let''s see it, then," he said, staring down the tip of his nose at them. "Since it''s obvious that you won''t leave me to my peace, let''s see this ''cure'' to my ails."

    Dellen chuckled. He twisted a brown lock of hair around his finger and shot Celian an amused look.

    "His ''peace,'' he says! Beck, you''re about as peaceful as a poltergeist."

    Beck huffed, his composure slipping. Before he could send a volley of curses Dellen''s way, Celian stepped up beside him and gave him a gentle pat on the shoulders. His cousin nodded to Dellen¡ªhurry up and show him, the gesture seemed to say.

    Dellen grinned, his green eyes flashing mirthfully. He pulled a rolled slip of paper from his trouser pocket, then took his time carefully unrolling and smoothing it. Beck''s impatience seethed anew, and just when he was about to stomp off again, Dellen finally began reading from the paper.

    "Ahem. ''To the venerable Dellen Spire: You are cordially invited to a feast of celebration, held in honor of the societal debut of our respected daughter. All who mean to show fellowship and peace to the Dunns are welcome to attend this masked affair. Anyone beneath our roof will be treated as an equal, so long as the celebration persists. Copious drink and music shall fill our halls, and so we should hope that you will bring as many acquaintances as you see fit. All shall rejoice this day!''"

    Beck raised an eyebrow when he was finished.

    "A party, at the Dunn estate? Have you gone mad? We''d be strung up sooner than our feet passed over the threshold!"

    "We''ll disguise ourselves, of course," Celian said. "It''s a mask, after all."

    Beck stared at his cousin with surprise. So this was his idea, as well? He expected such things from Dellen, but he''d thought Celian was more sensible than that.

    "A party!" Dellen suddenly shouted. "A party, a party!" He bounced on his toes and did a twirl around them. "Tonight, at the Dunn manor! They''re throwing a party and all of Genua is invited!"

    Beck shook his head. "Keeper Spire banned any fighting. Hillshires on Dunn land would only be seen as us begging for a fight!"

    Dellen stopped his prancing to throw an arm over Beck''s shoulder. He held up the slip of paper in front of their faces, pointing at the words.

    "All of Genua is invited, my dear friend. That means even a Hillshire like you is unprohibited!"

    Celian nodded in agreement. "They as much as gave us a free pass. How can they start a fight when they sent out an open invitation?"

    Beck pursed his lips, still unconvinced.

    "Everyone will be there," Dellen said with a playful smirk. "I wouldn''t be surprised if more Hillshires than the two of you will be lurking about. Besides that, think of all the beautiful women who will be there! One tour of the ballroom, and you''ll be forgetting about your sweetheart''s face."

    Peonia''s lovely face filled his mind. A heavy sigh escaped his lips.

    "Are you still thinking about her, even now?" Celian asked.

    "Of course he is," Dellen, said, green eyes flashing with amusement. "He''s like a wild beast after its mate. Once he caught her scent, he was done for."

    "I''m no beast and she''s no animal," Beck bit back. "I''m in love."

    Dellen threw back his head and laughed, finally letting go of his shoulder and pushing away.

    "Take a look at what''s around you!" He swept his hand out toward the rest of Genua. "Imagine how many other women are out there, ones twice as beautiful as your Pansy¡ª"

    "Peonia," Beck corrected through gritted teeth.

    "Right, right, whatever her name is. There''re plenty of women out there to replace her."

    "But I love¡ª"

    "Nonsense!" Dellen thwacked him on the shoulder. "Not love, lust. You''re a young, hot-blooded man. You''ve confused your physical desires with emotions. Real love is rarer than a Hillshire and Dunn getting along."

    Beck turned pleadingly towards Celian, but his cousin only returned an apologetic smile.

    "Dellen''s right."

    He huffed in frustration. "So your solution to my one-sided love is to fall in love with another person? What if she rejects me, too?"

    Dellen flashed his teeth in a grin. "Love need not be involved, so long as you find a woman who can get your heart racing. That''s all it takes to pick a man up off the ground!" He nudged Beck with an elbow. "And as for the rejection, it''s just a part of the game. We win some, we lose some. It''s all up to fate, anyway."

    Beck raised an eyebrow. "Fate? So you believe that what happens is inevitable? That we have no say?"

    Dellen let out a blissful sigh. "Relieving, isn''t it? To know that what happens was always meant to happen, and we''re only here to bear witness to it. Takes quite a bit of weight off one''s shoulders¡­"

    Celian chuckled while Beck shook his head in confusion.

    "What''s any of that got to do with us going to a Dunn party tonight?"

    "It''s got everything to do with it!" Dellen placed one hand on Beck''s shoulder, the other on Celian''s. "Don''t you see? It''s inevitable that we''ll go to the party! We were always meant to!"

    Beck was silent as a new thought came to his mind: he wasn''t sure about all this fate nonsense, but he realized something else that was certainly inevitable.

    Peonia wouldn''t dare miss a social event... especially one hosted by the Dunns. She wasn''t loyally associated with the Hillshires. Her magic was Neutral, unsettled¡ªneither Dark nor Light. She would certainly be at the party, tonight.

    He could see her again, that very night.

    "I''ll do it," he finally said, looking each of his friends in the eyes. "I''ll go to the party."

    Dellen gave his shoulder a firm squeeze before throwing up both arms in triumph. "That''s the spirit! Now¡­ since you''ve finally gotten all your pouting out of your system, let''s make this a night to remember."

 Chapter 9: Escort

    "Hold out your arms, please."

    Layalla did as Maira requested, stretching her arms out to either side while her sister checked the length of each sleeve. She was putting the finishing touches on her debut party dress¡ªthe black dress Maira had been toiling over for weeks. She was making sure that the garment fit her better even than her own skin, a talent that Maira was more than capable of.

    Layalla had often praised her sister for her skill in sewing. She would tell her that there was more than enough magic in her fingers to make up for her lack of magic elsewhere. Maira would smile, blush, and thank her, but Layalla knew the compliment didn''t make up for reality.

    Still, she was in awe of the dress as she stared into the floor-length mirror before them. The collar, sleeves, and skirt were trimmed in intricate lace, made of black thread that shone like obsidian. The bodice was painstakingly embroidered with swirling, green vines. From waist to floor, the skirt was made of luxurious black brocade, the underskirt of luscious black velvet. Layalla had never felt more regal, never looked more womanly.

    "I think it''s about finished," Maira finally said, gently lowering Layalla''s arms and staring at the dress through the mirror. She gave a satisfied nod.

    Layalla turned to face her, beaming.

    "Maira, it''s spectacular. It''s the most astonishing dress I''ve ever seen."

    Her shorter older sister''s cheeks reddened, but she smiled back.

    "It helps when my muse is already perfection, herself." Maira patted Layalla''s cheek, thimble still on her thumb.

    Layalla shook her head. "I can''t believe you did all the embroidery yourself. I¡ª"

    Her bedroom door opened forcefully, and the two young women spun to face their mother. She strode to stand before them. Her purple nightshade eyes flashed when she saw the close proximity between the two. Before even a word of greeting, she stepped forward and pushed herself between Layalla and Maira, practically shoving the latter away from her with her hip.

    "Mother¡ª" Layalla began, startled.

    "Let''s see it, then," Dame Dunn demanded, looking her over.

    She began to inspect the dress, making Layalla hold her arms out again, then spin to show off every angle. Her blank expression settled into a frown.

    "Yes¡­ I suppose it will have to do. Though, my debut gown was much more memorable. At least your pretty face makes up for what the dress lacks."

    Layalla opened her mouth to protest her mother''s rude dismissal of Maira''s hard work, but found her chin caught in her mother''s grasp. Dame Dunn tilted her daughter''s head this way and that, inspecting her face in much the same way as she had the dress.

    "You''re very lucky to have taken after me in looks, rather than your father," she mused. "Except for your eyes, of course. But they have their own charm. Besides, the Dunn eyes provide you with claim to your legitimacy." She finally relinquished Layalla''s face and turned suddenly to step toward a dressing table, pushing past Maira once again.

    Dame Dunn''s rude treatment of Maira rankled Layalla to no end, as it always did, but there was nothing to be done. Layalla watched her older sister closely, as she silently bore their mother''s behavior. Her two-toned eyes stayed always on the floor¡ªthose eyes, which were her only legitimate claim to her lineage. One the orange of the Dunns'', the other the rare purple of their mother''s. Maira knew that Dame Dunn hated her eyes, which is why she made sure to keep them averted. If Maira''s eyes were ever to meet their mother''s, she took the very sight of them as a threat. Those eyes accused her of everything that Maira''s very existence represented¡ªwhich, in Dame Dunn''s mind, was her greatest shame.

    Even still, if Maira did everything right, if she avoided any possible offense toward their mother, it did not always guarantee peace. Dame Dunn was easy to displease, and Maira was the perfect subject for her to inflict her displeasure upon. Even Layalla, golden child as she was in the Dunn household, was thought of as nothing more than a possession to their mother, and therefore was expected to always submit to her will. She had no real power to save Maira, not unless she went about it very carefully.

    "I think it best to put your hair up tonight, don''t you?" Dame Dunn said, finally returning to where Layalla still stood before the mirror to begin pinning her long, black hair away from her face. "It makes you look more mature. We don''t want any potential suitors thinking of you as nothing more than a young girl."

    Layalla held in a wince as her mother poked her scalp with a pin.

    "I''m afraid all the guests will see me as nothing more than a foolish mute," she admitted, watching her mother''s expression carefully. "There are going to be so many people here tonight! More people than I''ve ever met in all my life. I''m so nervous, I''m scared that I''ll forget how to speak."

    Her mother jabbed in another pin, frowning. "Nonsense. Greeting people with a pleasant smile isn''t some kind of difficult task. I was nearly a decade younger than you when I debuted, and I had no trouble at all."

    "Yes, but you''d had more practice meeting people by then¡­" Layalla fiddled with her fingers, clasped in front of her. She glanced toward Maira, who was making herself busy, straightening out the hair accessories on the dressing table. "I think, if I had someone more familiar by my side, someone who could escort me around the party, I would feel so much more at ease."

    Dame Dunn scoffed. "You think I have time to follow you around all night? I''ll be hosting the party! I can''t be holding your hand through the whole occasion¡­"

    "Of course not," Layalla quickly said. "I never expected you to chaperone me, you''ll be much too busy! I was thinking Maira¡ª"

    Layalla''s head was suddenly yanked back by the grip her mother had on her hair. Dame Dunn''s purple eyes glared at her through the mirror. She had pulled Layalla''s head back so that they were cheek-to-cheek, and so she had no trouble hearing her mother''s seething, whispered words.

    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    "That girl wants to be your chaperone? She presumes to hold enough importance? To walk beside the shining star of the party?"

    "N-No," Layalla stammered, her eyes tearing up with the pain in her scalp and neck as her mother''s grip tightened. "It was my idea, Maira never asked¡ª"

    Dame Dunn released her, only to spin and deliver a thunderous slap to Maira''s face. Her older sister stumbled sideways, knocking most of the items she''d just been arranging on the dressing table to the floor, before falling in a heap herself. Their mother loomed over her, her pretty face twisted into something hideous and sinister.

    "You dare to place yourself beside someone so far above you," Dame Dunn hissed down at her. She raised her arm to deliver another blow, but Layalla lunged forward and grabbed it.

    "Mother, please," she said through her tears. "Maira had nothing to do with this, it was all my idea! I thought both you and Father would be too busy to stay by my side through the night! Don''t blame her for my request!"

    Maira scrambled to her feet and backed away, even as Dame Dunn attempted to wrench free of Layalla''s grasp to deliver the slap she''d intended. But Layalla held fast. The hand that gripped her mother''s arm even began to glow with eternal flame. Dame Dunn''s eyes widened and she froze.

    It was the first time Layalla had ever even seen a hint of fear in her mother''s eyes. It was barely there, gone almost instantly, but she''d seen it. And then a sudden realization hit her¡ªthis woman, who Layalla had lived in fear of all her life, would be nearly powerless against her magic. Though Dame Dunn had married into the Dunn clan, into the clan of Dark magic wielders, she had only ever possessed weak, unsettled Neutral magic. If Layalla were to wield her magic against her own mother, if she were to fight back¡­

    Her mother would never stand a chance.

    A terrifying feeling of power swelled within Layalla''s chest. She relinquished her mother''s arm as she yanked away from her, but that powerful feeling remained. There they stood, facing each other, and though Dame Dunn''s face was cold and expressionless, Layalla couldn''t help but feel that similar thoughts were passing through her mother''s mind.

    A knock came at the door.

    "Dame Dunn," a servant entered, bowing low.

    Though he stepped into a sight of chaos¡ªitems strewn across the floor, Maira clutching her quickly swelling cheek, Layalla''s hair wild and half-pinned¡ªhe only glanced over the scene and proceeded with his business. To work on the Dunn estate was to get used to such incidences.

    "Lord Lark is here and wishes to greet his cousin before the party begins."

    Dame Dunn''s face lit up. "Lark? Well, show him in, then!"

    As soon as the servant stepped away to fetch their guest, Dame Dunn spun to glare at Maira.

    "Well, hurry up and get this mess cleaned up!" she barked.

    Maira did as she was told, kneeling to collect the fallen items and quickly reassembling them on the dressing table. Layalla watched her with concern, the welt on her face only growing redder by the minute.

    "Look at the state of you," her mother scolded, stepping up to Layalla to fix her disheveled hair.

    Layalla only stood numbly, still watching her sister, though she wanted to flinch away from her mother''s touch.

    "There," Dame Dunn turned her to face the mirror, smiling brightly as if all was well, "that''s much better."

    Indeed, Layalla''s hair was much improved, but she could only focus on the reflection of Maira in the mirror. Her older sister''s lip quivered. Dame Dunn said something about finding a pair of gloves and stepped toward the wardrobe across the room. Layalla took the opportunity to turn and face her sister.

    "Let me see," she said softly, barely loud enough to hear. Maira paused her tidying and allowed Layalla to place a gentle hand on her swollen cheek, though she kept her eyes averted. Layalla''s palm glowed with eternal flame, and Maira winced before relaxing again. When Layalla removed her hand, the swollen cheek was smooth and unharmed once again.

    "Thanks," Maira said under her breath, before returning to her work.

    Layalla wanted to ask her if she was all right, to tell her that what their mother did was wrong, and to apologize for putting her in such a situation in the first place. But the bedroom door was opening, so she was forced to turn her attention to their entering guest.

    "Let me see the star of the show!"

    Lark Dunn stepped into the room, arms open wide, grinning from ear to ear. His orange Dunn eyes flashed with youthful excitement. Layalla bowed her head to him in greeting.

    "Hello, cousin."

    Lark stopped in his tracks, eyeing her. "What''s this? Here you are, wearing a beautiful gown, on the eve of your big night, and yet you''re wearing the gloomiest expression I''ve ever seen! Shouldn''t you be more excited for your big debut party?"

    Layalla cursed her over-expressive face and attempted to fix it.

    "Of course I''m excited."

    Lark stepped up to her and took each of her hands in his, looking down at her with concern, just as Dame Dunn returned from the wardrobe with a pair of black velvet gloves.

    "My Lady," Lark said, almost pouting at his aunt, "have you seen the melancholy cloud hanging over your daughter''s head?"

    "Lark, you know how women are," Dame Dunn said with a dismissive wave. She pulled Layalla''s hands from Lark''s and began putting on the black gloves. "Our moods come and go with every passing moment. There''s nothing to it. By this evening, she''ll be as carefree as a bird."

    Layalla clenched her jaw. Her mother knew very well the reason behind Layalla''s "mood." And if Lark hadn''t shown up when he did, who knows how much worse it all could have escalated?

    A thought came to Layalla''s mind. Lark was here now. She may as well use him to her advantage¡­

    Layalla put on an exaggerated pout of her own.

    "I won''t be carefree by this evening, that''s just the thing." She boldly pulled away from her mother to face Lark. "I''m so nervous, Lark! Tonight, I''ll have to talk to more strangers than ever before. That''s why I asked Mother if my handmaiden, Maira, might be able to accompany me¡ª"

    "Layalla!" her mother hissed, trying to cut her off, but she only pushed forward.

    "¡ªmight be able to accompany me throughout the party, so that I may have someone familiar by my side to comfort and support me. But Mother refuses to allow it. She thinks a handmaiden is too lowly to be seen by my side."

    "My dear little cousin," Lark smiled at her. He reached up and playfully patted her cheek. "If you''re scared to traverse the party alone, then allow me to be your escort."

    Layalla bit her lip. "I appreciate the offer, Lark, but¡­"

    He raised an eyebrow. "But¡­?

    She frowned. "Oh, don''t take this the wrong way, but you just wouldn''t do! Lark, you''re known to me and one of my dearest friends in the world, but to most anyone else you''re¡­ Well, you''re intimidating."

    He smirked at her. "Intimidating, you say?"

    "Well, yes¡­" She grabbed Lark''s hands and squeezed them. "Having you by my side would bring me comfort, however, I''m meant to meet new people and introduce myself to society tonight, and if your presence scares everyone away from me¡­"

    He chuckled, giving her hands a squeeze back. "You''re right, it just wouldn''t do." He looked toward Dame Dunn. "I don''t see why her handmaiden can''t escort her, my Lady? You say she is too lowly, but isn''t this just what a handmaiden is for? Besides, look at Layalla." He pulled Layalla along, guiding her into a little spin and making her giggle with glee. "No one will even notice the handmaiden by her side! She''ll be stealing every eye in the room!"

    Dame Dunn smiled at him, and Lark smiled back. To Lark, her smile may have seemed genuine, casual, but Layalla was well-trained in her mother''s expressions. She wasn''t happy or carefree at all.

    She was furious.

    "You''ve convinced me," she said to Lark, still smiling. "I''ll allow it then. Your handmaiden may escort you during your debut party, tonight."

    "See," Lark spun Layalla around again, "no need to be gloomy!"

    "I suppose we''ll need to find you something befitting to wear," Dame Dunn said to Maira, barely containing her contempt. She snapped at the girl and motioned for her to follow as she left the room. Maira scurried along after her, throwing a quick, wide-eyed glance Layalla''s way.

    Gloom weighed heavier than ever over Layalla, even as she forced out a laugh while Lark continued to spin her around the room.

 Chapter 10: Dreams and Stars

    "On, and on, to the Dunn estate!"

    The group of young men whooped and cawed in approval of Dellen''s declaration. The tall, lithe man led the procession through the streets of Genua, flanked on either side by Beck and Celian. Behind them trailed a raucous gathering of Dellen''s friends.

    "A bad omen hangs in the air¡­" Beck grumbled. Celian and Dellen looked at him, questioning. "When I went home earlier today to ready myself for this night, I lay on my bed to take a short rest and immediately fell into a fitful sleep. I had a dream I can''t remember now, but I''m sure it was all of doom and misfortune."

    Dellen scoffed and turned around, walking backward so that the rest of the men could see his face.

    "Dreams and omens¡­ What''s the use in worrying over such things?" He snapped his fingers and sparks of eternal flame erupted from them. "The only thing we should be worrying about now is our disguises¡­ and whether there will be enough wine for all of us to drink our fill."

    The men laughed as more bursts of light flickered to life, illuminating the shadows of early evening. Beck watched in dismay as they all used their magic to adorn themselves with disguises¡ªelaborate masks that hid their true identities. A couple of the men swiped their glowing hands over the silver cuffs on their upper arms, stitched with silver suns, which identified them as loyal Hillshire men. The cuffs disappeared with their magic, erasing the last traces of their true allegiance.

    Why hadn''t he asked Celian to make a disguise for him before they left the Hillshire estate? Out here, these men would surely question why the heir of Hillshire himself wasn''t capable of using magic to make a simple disguise¡­ His secret was at great risk of exposure.

    "Dreams, dreams," Dellen trilled, sending more sparks flying from his fingers. The other men laughed at the silly display. "I, too, had an ominous dream, just last night."

    Beck felt a tug at his sleeve. He found Celian beside him. His cousin gave him a knowing look, before nodding his head to the left. Follow me, the gesture said.

    "I dreamed that we were all gathered, all citizens of Genua," Dellen went on as Celian and Beck fell behind the rest of the men. "We stood around the Eternal Castle. And then, there! In the sky!" Dellen pointed wildly skyward as the men gasped and feigned shock. "A ball of eternal flame shot across the horizon!"

    Celian slowed even further, allowing the rest of the men to move ahead of them before pulling Beck into the shadow of an alley.

    "It came falling toward the city!" Dellen went on, his audience enthralled. "Bigger, bigger, it grew as it neared¡­"

    "Here," Celian said quietly, his hand glowing as he swiped it over Beck''s head. His white Hillshire hair was suddenly covered in a glittering, jeweled hood, his silver eyes obscured by a gold mask, which covered his face from nose to forehead. Celian placed a similar disguise on his own head, though his hood was much simpler and his mask a shiny onyx.

    They stepped from the alley and quickly rejoined the back of the procession as Dellen continued his theatrics.

    "Closer, closer¡­ And then boom! Crash! The entire city was engulfed in flame!"

    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    His audience responded with mock terror. Dellen''s green eyes danced, his lips curled in a smirk.

    "All turned to ash and blackness¡­ and Genua was no more."

    "And you just stood there and watched it burn?" one of the men asked.

    "Aye," Dellen nodded, indignant. "What else could I have done? But when all burned away, I was the last one left. So I wandered the city, searching for my friends and kinsmen, but all I found was charred blackness. But then¡­" His green eyes sparkled, almost with madness, and he grinned out at them all. "From the ashes rose specters, dancing ghosts. And do you know what they did?"

    The men called for an answer: What, what?

    "They fought!" Dellen shot out a burst of eternal flame, wielding it like a sword as he spun about. "The ghosts of the enemy clans, even in death, could not let their hatred for one another rest!"

    The men laughed and dodged his harmless attacks.

    "I couldn''t bear the sight of it! Those fools. Even dead, they could not find peace among one another. So I stepped between them and I begged them to stop."

    "Did they stop?" someone asked.

    Dellen laughed. "Of course not! So, I joined the fight." He swung his eternal flame sword again, sending red and green sparks flying through the air. "I fought the ghosts¡­ but in the end, I was struck down!" Dellen clutched at his gut, as if he''d been delivered a fatal blow, and fell into the arms of one of his friends. "I was slain by the ghosts, and so I became one of them, trapped in their eternal battle¡­"

    Beck rolled his eyes. "He certainly knows how to draw attention to himself."

    Celian chuckled. "It did help us out just now, keeping them distracted so I could make you your disguise."

    Beck sighed. "Yes, but is it the best idea to be in his company while we''re trying to stay hidden? We may as well enter the party unmasked, if we''re going to have him by our side, drawing all eyes."

    "No, I think he''ll continue to distract attention away from us. Who will look at us when he''s around?"

    "So, if dreams really are omens, what does your dream foretell about you, Dellen?" one of the men asked the "slain" man as they helped him back to his feet.

    Dellen scratched his chin and thought it over. Then, with a dramatic flourish of eternal flame, he finally bestowed his own disguise upon himself¡ªa mask shaped like the ghostly white skull of a cat.

    "It foretells of my doom!" Dellen said, lurching towards the men, who scurried away from him as if he were already a malevolent spirit. He laughed with glee. "What else could it be?" He turned to face Beck, grinning. "See, young friend. Do not put so much weight on the significance of dreams. Besides, if they truly are prophecies, destined to come true, then how could we have any power to stop them?"

    "That seems rather pessimistic," Celian said, smiling and crossing his arms.

    "Oh, but it''s quite the opposite!" Dellen held out his arms and spun, using magic to add a flowing, red cape to his ensemble. "Because, if my dream is true, and I''m to die soon, what better reason is there than that to live every moment I have left to the absolute fullest?"

    The men around him cheered in agreement. Beck only thought of Peonia. His Peonia. Tonight very well may be his last chance to ever speak to her¡­ he didn''t dare miss it, even under threat of bad omens and dark dreams. Veiled in his magical disguise, his confidence surged anew. Peonia wouldn''t even realize it was him beneath the mask! He could charm her, spend all night dancing with her, and she would be none the wiser. It would either be a marvelous send-off to his first heartbreak, or a chance to rekindle things between them.

    "There are stars in your eyes, cousin," Celian suddenly said, pulling him from his thoughts. "And though I like to see your face finally lit up again, you best leave a few for the night sky. Otherwise, the rest of us will be doomed to darkness."

    Beck gave his shoulder a playful shove.

    "Let me have my stars," he said, striding ahead to join Dellen at the front of the pack. "You have more than enough eternal magic to light your way¡ªso allow me all the stars my eyes can carry!"

    Dellen whooped in agreement as Beck fell into step beside him and they threw their arms over each others'' shoulders, marching along together. Someone in the group started up a lusty drinking song, and Beck immediately joined in, singing at the top of his lungs. The party was ahead, his worries behind, and his true love waiting for him somewhere in the night.

 Chapter 11: The Party Begins

    "You will act the part of a girl in love. Nimo Spire must believe you''re infatuated with him."

    Layalla turned toward her mother from her chair at the dressing table with wide-eyed horror.

    "But Father said this would merely be a first meeting between us. He said that no arrangements of marriage had been decided yet."

    Dame Dunn turned away from the mirror where she''d been primping her auburn hair and strode toward her across Layalla''s room. She yanked her daughter up by the arm and made her stand so that their noses were almost touching.

    "It is called strategy, Layalla. If I''d accepted Nimo Spire''s offer immediately, then he would have wondered why we''re so eager to marry you off. It could lead him to think there''s something wrong with you, some hidden scandal that we wish to patch up with an advantageous marriage." Her deadly purple eyes slid across the room to where Maira was standing silently by the door, head bowed forward, eyes downcast. "That is why we must tease him a little, string him along. Men always want most what they can''t have. If he believes that we aren''t convinced of his worthiness of you, then he''ll be that much more ambitious in his pursuit for your hand¡ªhe''ll convince himself that he needs you, that you''re a prize to be won." She held her chin high, her lush lips spreading in a smile. "And you are a prize. You''re the greatest prize in all of Genua. We need only to set the stage for him."

    Layalla pulled herself from her mother''s grasp and turned away, facing the wall.

    "I''m not a prize, Mother. I''m your daughter."

    Dame Dunn let out a beleaguered sigh.

    "And what''s so wrong with being a prize? What more could you want than to be desired and sought after?"

    "I want to be free." The words spilled from Layalla''s lips, bubbling over like a boiling pot. "I want to choose my path for myself."

    The room fell silent. So long, she had dreamed of saying these words to her mother. So long, she had imagined herself mustering up the courage to demand her own feelings be considered.

    But now, she didn''t feel courageous at all. She felt overwrought.

    She turned to face her mother, steeling herself.

    Crack!

    The shock of a palm connecting with her face never failed to surprise Layalla. She''d lost count long ago of how many times her mother had struck her, but the pain was always new, always surprising. Always a betrayal.

    She gripped her right cheek, hissing at its burn, but refusing to cry out.

    "If you do as you know you should tonight, you will accept Nimo Spire and concede to become his bride. There''s nothing else to be said about it. It''s unbelievably selfish of you to even conceive of anything different. Choose your path for yourself? Ridiculous, childish notion. Do you have any idea what good this is going to do for you, for our family?"

    Damn the family! she screamed in her mind.

    But she didn''t dare say it aloud. Instead, her anger seeped out through her fingertips, in slithering snakes made of smoke and Dark magic. She raised her head, her burning cheek on full display, and looked her mother directly in her hateful, purple eyes.

    "I know exactly what I should do, Mother. Trust that¡ªfor the first time in my life, I know what I should do."

    She stormed away, barely recognizing that she was sending furniture flying in her wake. Sparks rained across her vision, likely emanating from her own hands. The rage inside her had seemingly taken control of her magic. Dame Dunn screamed after her, but she didn''t listen.

    Maira appeared before her, a pleading look on her face, but she only pushed past her. She stepped from her quieter bedroom into the cacophony of the house. She''d nearly forgotten about the party. People everywhere. Drunken fools, celebrating. Celebrating what?

    Her enslavement.

    She swiped a hand over her face, covering it with a mask of silver, hiding the red welt her mother had lovingly given her. Hot tears threatened to spill over, but she held them back. Blindly, she turned down one corridor, then the next.

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    "Layalla! Layalla, come back!"

    Damn it all.

    Maira''s voice was calling after her. She''d surely been sent by their mother. And though she worried for the wrath it might incur upon her poor sister, Layalla could not bring herself to turn back.

    She had finally stood up to her mother.

    All her life, she had been the perfect, submissive daughter. The pretty little pet that performed her tricks when she was instructed. The apple of her father''s eye, and the greedy glint of her mother''s. The love her mother showed her was only carried so far by the value in her usefulness. Could she even call such a thing love?

    Well, here was the perfect opportunity to test the lengths of her mother''s "love." If she could hide away until the party was over, if she could avoid ever even meeting Nimo Spire, then her mother''s demands wouldn''t be carried out. Her well-crafted plans would fall to pieces. What then, would she think of her golden child? Would Layalla be cast aside, like Maira? Would she be thrown from the estate itself?

    She gritted her teeth as she turned down another corridor. If she were to be banished from the Dunn family, so be it. Anything out there, past the walls of the estate, had to be better than the prison within. Right¡­?

    She pushed her way past a couple, entangled in a passionate kiss, and toward a door that led outside. The night air was crisp and welcoming. The sounds of the party faded as the door shut behind her. She stared up into the night sky, her tears finally escaping, sliding down her still-stinging cheek beneath her silver mask. The torchlight along the estate walls¡ªbright with eternal flame, burning in a rainbow of hues¡ªobscured her view of the stars. She stepped away from the manor house, making her way to the darkness of the orchard. It would serve her well as a hiding place until the night was over.

    *****

    Lark grabbed a glass of wine from the tray of a nearby servant. The black wolf mask he wore made his orange Dunn eyes appear as if they were glowing. Those eyes scanned the ballroom, which only grew more crowded with each new dance. He watched the entering guests carefully.

    "Looking for a dancing partner or a dueling partner?"

    He turned to find a woman beside him. She wore a mask of transparent green glass that barely concealed her beautiful face, her red hair woven intricately about her head. Her dark eyes watched him boldly, unabashedly studying his entire form. She smiled in a way that expressed anything but innocence.

    "It must be a dueling partner, with that expression," she said, tapping her red lips with a dainty finger.

    "Peonia," Lark returned her smile, bowing his head toward her. "It''s always a delight to see your lovely face."

    She held out her hand toward him, almost lazily. He took it, bestowing a lingering kiss. She raised an eyebrow at him, but the corner of her mouth curled up with delight. He released her hand and took a step closer.

    "I would love nothing more than to join you in a dance, but I''m afraid I''m a bit preoccupied at the moment. I may appear as any other reveler here tonight, but I assure you I''m on duty¡ªattending to very important business."

    "Hm¡­" She took the glass of wine from his hand and swirled it before taking a sip. She tilted her head back, exposing her smooth, pale throat, and seemed to savor its taste. Her dark eyes sparkled as she handed the glass back to him. "A shame. I''m already certain you must be the most interesting man here tonight."

    He took a sip of the wine¡ªsweet and sultry, much like Peonia. But it was little more than a trifle, a lovely distraction. He would have much preferred a stronger brew, as he would also have much preferred his solitude to Peonia''s company, even though she was practically undressing him with her eyes. A pretty face and a sharp wit, to be sure, but he hungered for something more dangerous than her lips or embrace. Besides, could a woman with lowly Neutral magic ever truly be a match for him?

    "My Lord," a man in a simple, white mask approached with a bow. "It''s getting too crowded for us to monitor the newly arriving guests. Shall we disperse among the people?"

    Lark downed the wine and passed the empty glass off to a servant.

    "Yes, good. Spread out to every corner of the manor, and don''t linger with anyone for too long. And remember: if you find any Hillshires, do not expose them immediately. Report to me, first."

    The man bowed again and went on his way. Peonia turned to him, her eyes bright.

    "Hunting for Hillshires, are you? That seems like a dangerous game, what with Keeper Spire''s decree."

    Lark leaned toward her so that his lips were nearly brushing against her ear.

    "Decrees were made to be broken, weren''t they?" He pulled back and enjoyed the flushed look on her face. "Keeper Spire knows that what he seeks is impossible. Dunns will always hate Hillshires, and vice versa."

    Peonia covered her mouth and giggled.

    "Do you really think the Hillshires would be foolhardy enough to show their faces?"

    His eyes were on the crowds again, his capacity for giving her his precious attention waning.

    "My uncle sent out an open invitation. And they wouldn''t exactly be showing their faces¡ªit''s a mask, after all." He turned to her again, reaching out to brush a finger along the edge of her green glass mask, stroking her soft cheek in the process. "The perceived anonymity of wearing a mask has a way of emboldening even the most cautious of men, don''t you agree?"

    She licked her lips, a tantalizing gesture that he was sure was performed for his benefit.

    "Well, don''t get too carried away on your hunt, Mr. Wolf. And if you find the chance, please do join me in one dance before the night is over." She stepped away, toward the dance floor, where he was sure there were countless men eagerly waiting to be her partner. She paused, looking over her shoulder at him with a knowing smirk. "Oh, and that mask doesn''t suit you at all. Lark Dunn, a wolf? No, I think a panther would have fit much better."

    He watched her go, enjoying the sight of her swinging hips. But just for a moment. Then, he dissolved into the crowd, prowling for hidden Hillshires.