Chapter 132: A Ball

Toren Daen

I took Oath back from the bulky Taegan as I reached the edge of the estate walls. He seemed reluctant to hand me my weapon, more from general wariness than any sort of greed.

"I have been ordered to tell you that the Matron Denoir wishes you the best in your future endeavors," he said brusquely, "And that she hopes you will accede to her offer."

It took me a moment to recognize what the crimson-haired man referenced by 'offer.' My hand subconsciously patted the sealed envelope in my vest pocket where I'd hastily stashed it. "I will," I said courteously, before finally extricating myself from the walls.

I looked up at the empty sky, sighing in a mixture of relief and agitation.

How well did I handle myself in that meeting? I asked internally. I'm certain I misstepped somehow, but your input is what made it possible for me to face these kinds of things at all.

The Unseen World washed over me, coating the vibrant light of the sunless Relictombs sky in a murky mist. "When meeting with Highlady Denoir, you conducted yourself well for one so inexperienced," she said. "You maintained a respectful and even air throughout, never saying too much or too little, all the while staying focused on your ultimate goal instead of letting her pull you along. Though it would have been more advantageous to smother your anxiety and tension to her eyes. We both know she felt a level of wariness speaking with you. It emanated in wisps over her intent, yet that was the only outward display you could decipher of her true thoughts. It gave her leverage over you. Power."

I sighed as I plodded down the well-maintained streets of the upper-class highblood estate area of the Relictombs. It's hard for me to smother my emotions, I admitted. Especially as I've grown into my intent-based music and grown more adept at empathizing with others to heal. Putting up a mask becomes difficult.

The irony of the situation was not lost on me. My personality drifted toward genuine honesty, but my entire presence in Alacrya and the secrets I held constituted a larger lie than any others could comprehend.

Aurora's shade hummed. "Ultimately, there was no simple way to avoid the glaring question of the Denoir heir's absence. And Lenora Denoir treated you, if not as an outright adversary, then certainly as an opponent in a contest of wills. That you responded in turn is not innately wrong." The ghostly phoenix looked at me intently. "Though I question if it was a wise decision to heal the wrist of the second-born son."

I haven't been sparing in displaying my aetheric healing abilities, I responded, turning down a mostly empty street. Here and there, guards patrolled the walkways and mages walked in pairs. I seemed to be the only one out and about alone. I wasn't heading in any particular direction. Eventually, I'd need to work my way through the Relictombs to reach the Town Zone again to deliver Sevren's toolkit, but I needed time to process this most recent encounter. Some spellforms can enable someone to heal others, though they're exceedingly rare. More rare than emitters are on Dicathen, I suspect. Those who witnessed my abilities will likely suspect that to be the cause.

I wondered about the lack of powerful healing magic in Alacrya. Many spellforms granted mildly enhanced regeneration, but the healing of others was a rare, rare gift.

Is the djinnic blood in the people of Alacrya more diluted than it is on Dicathen? I wondered, recalling what allowed healing mages to operate on the other continent. Or is the Vritra lineage in most humans somehow clashing with the peaceful nature of the djinn's blood?

My Phoenix Will and former basilisk blood had been less 'water and oil' and more 'water and alkali metals.' I wondered if a similar reaction occurred that denied Alacrya the development of emitters.

That train of thought brought me back to my confrontation with Lauden Denoir. Outwardly, he was cocky and brash, but his intent blazed with discomfort and reluctance. Lenora was able to subconsciously reign in her effects on the ambient mana to a degree, but her son was not so practiced.

"He was likely put up to the task of engaging you in a fight," Aurora said, watching a boar-like mana beast pull an elaborate carriage down the road. The insignia of a highblood I didn't recognize was emblazoned in a bright blue color. "Another covert political ploy."

That was why I moved to end the confrontation before it could be brought to an actual sparring ring, I acknowledged, stepping out of the way of the boar-like beast. I was able to get the toolkit and leave without being forced into some sort of duel.

"And you satiated their desire to understand your abilities by displaying your healing prowess," Aurora said with a hint of pride. "So they would not pursue the issue further."

I coughed into my fist. Yeah. That's what I was trying to do.

My bond looked at me with a raised orange brow, sensing my embarrassment. "That wasn't the point of it at all," she said, sounding more amused than disappointed.

I sprained the man's hand in his own home after he was probably set up to fight me, where I would have probably broken a whole lot more of his bones had it played out, I thought to my bond, wincing internally. I felt like kind of a dick for leaving him like that.

Aurora's shade sighed in exasperation, though there was no heat in it. "I wouldn't have bonded you if you were not an empathetic man, Toren," she said with a huff. "But… I need to ask something."

I slowed to a halt in my walk, looking intently at my bond. She had a look of deep concentration on her dusky purple face as she visibly measured her words.

"You said that Caera Denoir was one of the great points of view for The Beginning After the End," she said slowly, her melodic voice becoming something more intentionally monotone in its seriousness. "That she was one of the great observers of this world's eventual course. I need to ask: is she as you expected? Does she do credence to your knowledge?"

I let the question churn in my mind for a long time. Aurora was still coming to terms with the source of my future knowledge. Not so much that it had come from a novel, but from the existential questions posed by the fact that someone had put her world to the pen. We both asked ourselves how our Fates were destined to go, or if there was a point to all of this. And I wasn't sure how my answer would be received.

I'm not entirely sure, I thought after a moment. Caera was depicted with a rebellious streak against her adoptive parents, and I took advantage of her interruption on the assumption she would chafe against Lenora Denoir's schemes. The Batman gambit played out as expected, but–

Aurora raised a hand, interrupting me. "I do not know what a 'Batman gambit' is, Contractor," she said, the words as serious as if they were uttered by the Dark Knight himself.

Despite the grim circumstances, I chuckled lightly at the irony only I would ever understand. A Batman gambit is a plan that revolves entirely around people acting as you expect them to. Like exploiting a flaw or character trait and having someone dig their own grave through hubris. Or in more simple situations, expecting a rebellious adopted daughter to push against authority and playing into it. I shook my head. Regardless, just because I read about a character on a page doesn't mean I fully understand them.

I felt myself fingering my dimension ring, my thoughts drifting to all the comments I'd scribbled on the side of Of Mana and Minds. Words on a page could never truly encapsulate all a person was thinking and feeling. Books showed fleeting glimpses: important glimpses, true, but it was not a supplement for true understanding.

The understanding I gained of all the people of this world, I started slowly, saying the words as they came to my mind, Is like a man's understanding of the world if he only viewed the shadows people cast, I said, thinking of the famous hypothetical of Plato's Cave. I've got the inklings of what people think and feel, and maybe that's quite substantial knowledge.

I looked down at my hands. Caera's intent was well-masked by her control of power and the cloaking artifact she used to hide her horns, I thought, But those bare instances of emotion I caught over the web of ambient energy were so much more real than any words I've read.

Especially when she spoke of Sevren's absence. I could almost taste the pain and loneliness she felt as he left her in the Denoir estate, trapped like a songbird in a cage that desperately thrived for freedom. Words on a page simply could not compare.

And Sevren, I thought, my mind truly wandering now. Sevren can't afford to keep himself away from his family.

I'd recognized the signs, but only when Caera told me of his absence did I truly put the pieces together of what was happening. Sevren was withdrawing himself emotionally from everything that he was fighting for so desperately. And now that he'd lost an arm, he had more than enough justification to lock himself away in the Town Zone to research and test until he burned the rest of his body to ash on the pyre of progress. After all, the Denoir heir–who already despised highblood society–would be far more content to conduct his research in the safety of the Relictombs.

I needed to get him to meet his sister again. So he could remember that there were things worth experiencing outside the shelter of the Tombs.

"I suppose, under the light you provided," Aurora said contemplatively, "Your knowledge of the future is not nearly as intimate as I once believed." An unseen breeze caressed her beautiful red locks. "I find myself regularly thrust into the unknown these past months I've been your bond. For the longevity I have known, it is a thrilling–if at times uncomfortable–experience."

I huffed through my nose, finally beginning to walk again as my thoughts evened out. I put my hand into my vest pocket, withdrawing the letter Lenora Denoir had given me. The insignia of Highblood Denoir stood out ominously on the wax seal.

Speaking of new experiences, I thought to my bond as my fingers brushed the wax, I think whatever is in here will certainly be another one.

Aurora stared over my shoulder as I broke the deep red seal, pulling open the envelope. Inside was a simple folded letter written in immaculate script.

To Toren of Named Blood Daen, It started, then went through a formal introduction and well-wishing. I scanned over the words until I reached the meat of the message.

The monthly Denoir Ball is fast approaching. While these affairs are always more than lavish and attended by the highest of Alacryan nobility, word has reached us of your fantastic musical talents.

For a negotiable sum, we would like to contract your unique style of music to be played during our ball. Attached are preliminary offers that may entice you to attend.

I sifted over the rest of the words, finally reaching the signature of Corbett Denoir at the bottom.

I furrowed my brow. The Denoirs wanted me to play at one of their regular balls?

My first instinctual reaction was to ignore it. There was absolutely some other motive hidden within this swooping ink that I didn't have the context to understand. I'd just managed to avoid one political entanglement. Why would I throw myself right into another?

But as I thought about it more…

I caught on a familiar scent that made me freeze in place, the floral accents tickling my nose. It was a low, sweet undertone that held a hint of venomous bite.

"Toren Daen," Renea Shorn said, the mossy-haired Xander trailing at her heels as a guard. The dark-haired owner of Bloodstone Elixirs looked me up and down slowly, inspecting me with piercing intent. "I did not expect to meet you here. I haven't heard of you since your abrupt exit from the Crimson Pool Theater."

She said it as half a question and half a statement. There was a probing, yet formal inquiry into how I had been faring.

I took a deep breath. Memories of my last meeting with Renea Shorn–where I was almost certain she'd maneuvered me to play my violin in Aensgar on purpose to get me close to Mardeth–pushed to the forefront of my mind.

Her motives may be more complex than most of the selfish political figures I've met, I thought, But her methods are the same.

I smiled almost against my own will as I locked eyes with the woman, though there was a strain to the edges of my lips. "I've been traipsing around Alacrya in my off time," I said, trying to restrain my clashing wariness and fondness. I chanced a glance around me, noticing that none were close enough to hear. "And clashing with a mutual enemy."

My wariness was more prominent in that last sentence. Renea Shorn clearly understood my not-so-subtle implication if the barest flex of her pale jaw was any indication. We stood there awkwardly, the metaphorical iron hyrax in the room keeping us at an impasse.

I sighed at last, running a weary hand over my face. "I managed to escape from his base without a direct confrontation." I threw up a hand, enclosing our tiny group in a sound barrier. I looked at Xander, who stood awkwardly at Renea Shorn's heels. If I were feeling unnerved, he must be in excruciating discomfort.

Sensing my silent question, Renea nodded. "He is privy to this aspect of my work," she said, dropping the thinly veiled pretense.

"I was accompanied by both Mawar and Sevren Denoir to his base. Sevren managed to get a sample of what Mardeth is working on concocting, and he's picking it apart with his unique talents," I said slowly, flexing my hand in suppressed anger. "But he was permanently hurt in the process. Beyond what I could heal."

"That is a good outcome," Renea said with pinched brows, "is it not? Yet you seem conflicted," she probed.

"I was maneuvered into place like a piece on a board, Renea," I said bluntly, my anger at Mardeth tainting my tone. "Even if we both acknowledge that it was to my own benefit, that doesn't change the fact that I was a Sovereign's Quarrel piece. And I don't even know if I succeeded in what you wanted me to do there. I know I'm naive in some ways, yet I thought that our agreement to work together would put me beyond these things."

Renea's lips thinned to a line. "What are you asking of me, Lord Daen?" she said formally. "Even my closest allies do not know the depths of my plans and how I hope to maneuver. Are you saying you wish to be so close?"

I shook my head. "I just want honesty, Renea," I said with a tired sigh. Nothing was ever simple in this world, true, but so many strides could be made if people just said what they felt. "If you're going to try and drop me in front of Mardeth again, tell me exactly what you need me to do. Even if you can't tell me everything. We're working toward a common goal, theoretically. I'd be more than happy to sever that accursed vicar's head from his shoulders, even if you put me in the exact position I need to be. As long as I'm told that it's happening. Could you promise me that?"

Renea clasped her hands in front of her. She took a few steps closer to me, seeming unsure of the distance. "You called the weapons I had crafted for you Oath and Promise," she started, "Claiming that you broke one of each before their acquisition." The sky tried to cast her pale face in shadow. "You value your word, don't you Toren?"

"Our ability to keep promises is what separates us from beasts," I said, thinking of Trelza's hardened words. He was right about that. Some monsters could talk, but you could tell them apart from the humans nearby when they broke their word. "The greatest thing language allows is honesty between people."

Renea hummed contemplatively. "I disagree with you, Toren," she said, tilting her head. "The greatest thing language allows is understanding. But perhaps honesty is an offshoot of that." She visibly hesitated. "I promise you that I will be honest in what I am doing to maneuver you," she said quietly. She looked up at me, something dreadfully uncertain in those eyes of hers.

I took another step forward, finally closing the distance. "Thank you," I said in a low voice. As I looked at Renea's expression, I wondered what she thought she'd given away.

I placed the letter Lenora had given me into Renea's hands. She looked at it critically, then gauged me with a raised brow. "I've gotten an invitation to be the musician at the Denoir ball," I said, "And considering you're essentially the one who's been managing my venues, I figure it would be good to have your input on this as well."

Renea nodded slowly. "These are not matters for the open street," she said. "Perhaps we should discuss this over tea once more?" she prodded with an inviting curl of her red lips.

"Lead the way," I said.

Renea nodded, then strode past me with purpose. I watched her walk with a fondness that settled in my veins.

"I do not like her," Aurora said, her emotions the polar opposite of my own. "I implore you to be more cautious. As you did earlier, utilize your mind. Not your heart."

I frowned, feeling unsettled by my bond's venom. I know you expressed dislike of her for her manipulations before, I thought, following after Renea with steps that suddenly felt a lot more hesitant. Yet we've resolved that just now, haven't we?

My bond was silent for a long, long time. "Do you know how Agrona talks to you?" she whispered.

I felt myself pale as I nearly missed a step. What?

"I was not always the High Sovereign's prisoner," Aurora said with a low heat in her voice. "He's open about what he is. He is a manipulator. A game player. The top of the board. But when you speak to him, you feel as if he is on your side. Things will work out in your favor through his actions. You might not see how, but that's how it is. You live in this perpetual fantasy that he can manage things himself. And if a boundary is crossed that you cannot stand for, then he will weave his words to show how things will be different next time. You believe him, of course. How could you not? And then next time comes."

I caught the implications immediately, yet my bond continued on, releasing a knot of tension she'd carried since I'd met her. "And when you protest once more, his words convince you that you are the one at fault. He could not have wronged you. It is simply your misinterpreted, small-minded sense. And once you protest again, and he has no more use for you, then there is no more pretense. You are locked away where nobody can see you, and he will tell all those who miss you that it was a result of your own hubris all along."

The asuran shade turned to look at me in full. The gaping void over her heart bled anew, seeping into her martial robes. Those eyes of hers dimmed to the light of a dead star. "Renea Shorn moves like Agrona."