The High-Glass District didn't have mud or rain. It had marble streets that glowed with captured starlight and air that smelled of expensive jasmine.
"Kaelen! Nyra! Over here!"
The voice belonged to Master Valerius. He stood by a private carriage, his silver-hilted rapier catching the moonlight. To anyone else, he looked like a weary hero. To Kaelen, he now looked like a monster in a silk cloak.
Kaelen felt the blood roar in his ears. His knuckles whitened as he gripped his hidden dagger.
"Breathe," Nyra whispered, her hand brushing his arm as they approached. "If you kill him now, we never get inside the vault. Smile, Captain. Act like the fool he thinks you are."
The Deadly Performance
"Master Valerius," Kaelen said, his voice forced into a steady calm. He even managed a stiff nod. "I see you made it past the perimeter."
"It was difficult," Valerius sighed, clapping a hand on Kaelen's shoulder. The touch felt like a hot iron. "The King has doubled the guards. He's paranoid. But with the two of you, the Ember Heart is as good as ours."
Valerius handed them two masks—ivory and gold. "Put these on. At the Masquerade, no one looks at faces. They only look at status."
As they climbed into the carriage, the tension was suffocating. Every time Valerius looked out the window, Nyra and Kaelen exchanged a sharp, knowing glance.
The Slip-Up
"You know, Kaelen," Valerius said casually as the carriage began to lift into the air toward the floating palace. "The King often speaks of that night. He says he regrets what happened to the Princess."
Kaelen froze. "Does he?"
"Oh, deeply," Valerius leaned back, eyes narrowing slightly. "He says the only thing worse than losing a daughter is having a Captain who wasn't fast enough to save her. But tonight... tonight we fix that, don't we?"
Nyra kicked Kaelen's boot under the seat. A warning.
"We fix everything tonight," Kaelen replied, his gaze meeting Valerius's. For a split second, the mask slipped. The hatred in Kaelen's eyes was visible.
Valerius's smile faltered. His hand drifted—just an inch—toward his rapier.
The Gala Begins
The carriage doors hissed open. They were at the entrance of the Grand Ballroom. Thousands of nobles danced under chandeliers made of frozen lightning.
"The vault is behind the King's throne," Valerius whispered, leaning between them. "I'll create the distraction. You two slip behind the tapestry. And Kaelen?"
"Yes?"
"Don't get distracted by the past. The future is much more... fragile."
Valerius vanished into the crowd.
The Cliffhanger
Nyra grabbed Kaelen's hand. "He knows. He knows we know."
"I don't care," Kaelen said, his voice cold. "Let him play his game. When we get that Heart, I'm not just clearing my name. I'm going to make sure he never leaves this palace."
Suddenly, the music stopped. A herald's voice boomed: "Behold! His Majesty, King Alaric!"
The doors at the far end of the hall opened, and Kaelen's blood turned to ice. Standing next to the King wasn't just a guard. It was the Princess—the one Kaelen thought he had seen die two years ago.
She was alive. And she was pointing directly at them.