When the Old Roaring Tower rang in the hour, Flick was alone. Jin had rushed back to help Matteo and Arthie. Laith was with Sidharth, discussing their plan of attack. The palace doors swung open, groaning with a sense of finality. A buzz rose from the guests, and they began migrating inside.
Though this was a tribute and supposedly a more somber affair, the air was no different than a lavish ball. Flick didn’t blame the attendees as much as the Ram who had decided a celebration was in order when throngs of the press had died—mutilated and butchered in their pursuit of the truth.
Calling it a tribute was a cruel joke. It was a vicennial through and through.
The walls oozed opulence, and the more Flick looked, the more she noticed her mother’s touch—theRam’stouch—throughout. It felt like she was in the Linden Estate again.
Some of the guests had gathered in groups, some drifted on their own, others in pairs. The Athereum vampires dispersed into the crowd, exchanging nods and pleasantries. They were stunning as ever, well-dressed and elegant. Flick thought it strange that the very people who turned their noses up at vampires greeted them by all butslobbering. Then again, that was what people across White Roaring did to Matteo too.
A stage was erected up ahead, and several chairs fanned out behind a podium.For the Council. Dread coiled tight in Flick’s belly, knotting itself over and over with each passing breath.
A string quartet began to play, and several of the ladies near her commented on the Ram’s choice in music. There were lords dabbing at their lips after sampling the night’s nibbles, and couples already gossiping about other couples. A familiar bronze glint caught her eye, and Flick peered through the mingling crowd and saw one of the members of the Council.
They’d arrived.
“Hello, Felicity,” a voice said.
She turned in a panic and slammed into a warm, solid chest. “Jin!”
“Did I do something wrong?” he asked, pulling away.
“I—no! I didn’t realize it was you.”
“Ah, yes, my voice does sound different when I’m among the rich. The disgust is harder to keep at bay.”
“I’m being quite serious. Where’s Arthie?”
“Arthie is fine. She’ll be here, worry not. The Ram’s men might come looking any minute now, but it’ll be a decent while before they find me,” he said, and then he tilted his head.
“What?” she asked, suddenly shy.
“This feistiness is a good look on you,” he whispered, and a lord and lady nearby began to point at their closeness.
Flick seized up, her spine going rigid. She struggled to calm herself down. She didn’t need to worry about rumors spreading or her mother getting angry.
Jin ran his hands up and down her gloved skin until her breathing slowed and then quickened for another reason entirely. It was awelcome distraction from the nosy guests and the evening to come, for the last time she was dressed just as lovely, the floor ended up covered in blood.
Voices dropped to hushed tones, silence weaving like smoke through the White Roaring clouds as the Ram appeared. She walked to the podium, her footsteps ringing sharply on the lacquered stage. Her mask gleamed in the light of the many chandeliers, figure obscured by her cloak.
She rang a small, tinkling bell, as if every eye wasn’t already upon her.
“Welcome, my friends,” the Ram said. “Thank you for taking time to attend this tribute on the night of my vicennial. I understand that this is a most daunting time for us, and yet you braved the deadly streets.”
Deadly becauseshemade it so, Flick wanted to tell them. Beside her, Jin scoffed too.
“Two weeks ago, charlatans attempted to disrupt our peace,” the Ram said. As she spoke, one by one, the Council members began to take their seats behind the Ram, including the mask with the beautiful eyes.
“Is that…,” Flick began.
“Yes,” Jin murmured. He felt a spike of pride as he watched Arthie join the six others with her borrowed mask, a black cloak shrouding her attire and figure at once.
Nearby, tucked away from the rest of the Council’s view between guests, Jin spotted Rayan, the man whose mask Arthie now wore. He gave Jin a slight nod.
“They gathered our finest reporters,” the Ram continued, “men and women dedicated to the truth of our flourishing, growing empire. Perhaps they were jealous. Perhaps they feared our success. Whateverthe reason, they sought to cause chaos, and so they did. They marched into our meeting hall and slaughtered them. I’m lucky to have escaped with my life.”
Flick held back her scoff.
“Who did it?” someone asked in a nasally voice.
