“Father,” he called across the hall, “if I may do the honors.”
King Maxim lifted his glass in reply, and Rhy stepped lithely up onto the nearest stone planter, and the gathering fell quiet.
“Avan!” he said, voice echoing through the hall. “Glad’ach. Sasors,” he added to the guests from Vesk and Faro. “I am Prince Rhy Maresh,” he continued, slipping back into Arnesian. “Maxim and Emira, the illustrious king and queen of Ames, my father and mother, have given me the honor of hosting this tournament. And it is an honor.” He lifted a hand, and a wave of royal servants appeared, carrying trays laden with crystal goblets, candied fruits, smoked meat, and a dozen other delicacies. “Tomorrow you shall be introduced as champions. Tonight, I ask you to enjoy yourselves as honored guests and friends. Drink, feast, and claim your sigil. In the morning, the Games begin!”
Rhy bowed, and the crowd of gathered magicians and royals applauded as he hopped down from his perch. The tide of people shifted, some toward the banquets, others toward the banner tables.
“Impressive,” observed Kell.
“Come on,” said Rhy without meeting his eye. “One of us needs a drink.”
*
“Stop.”
Lila had just started up the palace steps, the demon’s mask beneath her arm, when she heard the order.
She stiffened, her fingers reaching reflexively for the knife at her back as a pair of guards in gleaming armor blocked her path. Her pulse pounded, urging her to fight or flee, but Lila forced herself to hold her ground. They weren’t drawing weapons.
“I’m here for the Banner Night,” she said, drawing Elsor’s royal verification from her coat. “I was told to report to the palace.”
“You want the Rose Hall,” explained the first guard, as if Lila had a damn clue where that was. The other guard pointed at a second, smaller set of stairs. Lila had never noticed the other entrances to the palace—there were two, flanking the main steps, and both were tame by comparison—but now that they’d been pointed out, the flow of traffic up and around those steps compared to the empty grand entrance was obvious. As was the fact that the doors to the Rose Hall had been flung open, while the palace’s main entrance was firmly shut.
“Solase,” she said, shaking her head. “I must be more nervous than I thought.” The guards smiled.
“I will lead you,” said one, as if she might honestly go astray a second time. The guard ushered her over to right set of stairs and up before handing her off to an attendant, who led her through the entryway and into the Rose Hall.
It was an impressive space, less ballroom than throne room, undoubtedly refined without being ostentatious—how far she’d come, she thought wryly, to find massive urns of fresh-cut flowers and sumptuous red and gold tapestries restrained.
A familiar captain stood near the mouth of the hall, dressed in silver and midnight blue. He saw Lila, and his face passed through several reactions before settling on cool appraisal.
“Master Elsor.”
“Master Emery.” Lila gave a flourish and a bow, stiffening her posture into angles.
Alucard shook his head. “I honestly don’t know whether to be impressed or unnerved.”
Lila straightened. “The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”
He nodded at the Sarows mask under her arm. “Do you want to be found out?”
Lila shrugged. “There are many shadows in the night.” She caught sight of the mask tucked beneath his own arm. Made of dark blue scales, their edges tipped with silver, the mask ran from hairline to cheekbone. Once on, it would leave his charmer’s smile exposed, and do nothing to tame the crown of brassy curls that rose above. The mask itself looked purely aesthetic, its scales offering neither anonymity nor protection.
“What are you supposed to be?” she asked in Arnesian. “A fish?”
Alucard made a noise of mock affront. “Obviously,” he said, brandishing the helmet, “I’m a dragon.”
“Wouldn’t it make more sense for you to be a fish?” challenged Lila. “After all, you do live on the sea, and you are rather slippery, and—”
“I’m a dragon,” he interjected. “You’re just not being very imaginative.”
Lila grinned, partly in amusement, and partly in relief as they fell into a familiar banter. “I thought House Emery’s sigil was a feather. Shouldn’t you be a bird?”
Alucard rapped his fingers on the mask. “My family is full of birds,” he said, the words laced with spite. “My father was a vulture. My mother was a magpie. My oldest brother is a crow. My sister, a sparrow. I have never really been a bird.”
Lila resisted the urge to say he might have been a peacock. It didn’t seem the time.
“But our house symbol,” he went on, “it represents flight, and birds are not the only things that fly.” He held up the dragon mask. “Besides, I am not competing for House Emery. I am competing for myself. And if you could see the rest of my outfit, you wouldn’t—”