#91. Eyes have eyes that have eyes. Behave always as if you are seen.

- "One Hundred Rules for the Young Noble" from The Imperian Primer

Veidan leads me by the hand down the dark, interminable stairs. My heels catch on the edge of a step, and he steadies me before I can plunge into the abyss. We continue down, ever down, the question of where are we? burning on my tongue. But I don't want to flaunt my ignorance, so I leave my curiosity to smolder.

Finally there's a pause, then a hiss as he strikes a match. Dirty stone flickers in shadows around me before he lights an antique lamp hanging on the wall. A hallway stretches long before us before curving into the black.

"Watch your step," he says as he navigates around a chunk of rubble. He keeps my hand, and with the massive walls pressing in around, I can't say I mind. It feels like being led through a tomb. Or perhaps... out of one.

"This is where the nobles that survived the revolution escaped to, isn't it?" I pick up my pace to keep closer to him. "It's rather depressing."

"Getting overthrown has a way of being," he says wryly.

He ducks a beam, and I mimic him. "I've heard rumors of something like this, but I never thought they were true. How did you know where to find it?"

His light voice belies a dark thrum winding through his symphony. "Because my great-grandfather's great-grandfather was one of those escaping nobles. This way."

He turns a corner with me and takes me up a staircase shorter than the one we went down. Another trap door grates open to reveal the imperial elephant enclosure. We emerge from the base of the palace into the starlight. He closes the wall behind us, then leads me to his howdah, where his driver is already waiting.

The man snaps to attention and wakes the elephant up. The others in the enclosure are also sleeping; in fact, everything seems sleepy down here, empty, quiet. It's such a far cry from the bustle high above, it might as well be a different world. Perfect when we don't want anyone's eyes on us.

Veidan goes to hand me up into the howdah, but I pause, looking over my shoulder. Just at the edge of my Hearing, I swear there is someone, though I can't see anyone else out here.

"Sylnavi?" Veidan says.

I shake my head and hurry inside. It must have been a servant, or perhaps someone else sneaking away from the party. Either way, the quicker I get out of sight, the better.

Veidan, politely, sits across from me. The elephant rises beneath us and carries us through the night. He lights his pipe, and the glow from that lets me pick out the silhouette of his face. Other than that, we are wrapped in shadows.

"Where are we going?"

"Shh. You'll ruin the surprise."

I roll my eyes. The elephant rolls beneath us. I find myself reclining despite this situation being everything my parents have ever warned me about. I should be on edge, alert, ready to step and counter-step, but instead, I relax among the cushions. "How many generations did it take your family to earn its title back?"

"Mm. Two spent as peasants. Eventually, they wormed their way into a marriage with some of Imperia's new nobility. Then four spent as debt-thralls when their new House was Blackened. It wasn't until as recently as my grandfather that our House won its freedom. In a Liberty Duel."

"That's a long time to be in thrall," I say. It's common for Houses to serve other Houses for various reasons, but usually the master House lets the servant one go after a while. If nothing else, the master House will throw the Liberty Duel fight. It's usually considered very magnanimous—good will and good press all around. The House gets to pat itself on the back as it sets its servant free.

"Well." Veidan puffs at his pipe. "I suppose it took us a while to get cutthroat enough at our swordplay."

There's a sour edge to his voice, so I ply him with a bit of praise. "You're quite good now, if I remember."

"I thought you didn't watch fencing."

"My brother does." Serran had gone on and on to me last Census about the Banner Red's swordplay—out of earshot of our parents, of course.

"Are you going to miss him?"

Another puff of smoke. It burns my nose, and I open the curtain a bit to create a vent.

"I already told you." I lean back into his silk cushions. "You're not going to make me change my mind."

"That's hardly what I asked."

I grind my teeth. I already miss Serran. He was the closest thing I've ever had to a friend, and now he hates me because I am what I am and I do what I do—as if he did not already know. I miss him, and I miss my father, who sees me as a knife he'll never use, and my mother, who sees me as a child who will never grow up. I miss what once was and what never will be again. But only my mother and infants cry over things that are impossible to fix.

"I'll miss memories," I say. He hums, and I, uncomfortable with the tightness in my chest, seek for a new direction to turn the conversation. "What House was it? That your family served in thrall under?"

"You don't know?"

I flush. "I'm an expert on current events, but it would be impossible to have every family's entire history memorized."

He snorts. "I should think you at least have your own memorized."

The blood in my face runs cold. "You served Emeriald?"

His pipe waves in the darkness. "Far before it was a Crest. Before it was the Banner Blue, even, or the Banner Brown. Actually, back then"—he blows another puff of smoke—"it was the Banner Red. Funny, the waves of history."

"I didn't—"

"Know? No, I suppose we would be a footnote in your histories. It matters little now, though. Ah, here we are."

The elephant has slowed down and kneels at the driver's command. Veidan dismounts and reaches to help me down. "My lady."

On the street before me stands a manor grand enough to have a front garden and a shaded footpath around either side of the house—breathing room considered a luxury in the city. A single candle burns in each of the many windows, as if cheerily waiting to greet us.

Veidan unlocks a gate topped with iron-wrought roses. "What do you think?"

My feet tap a few steps forward, pausing just outside the threshold. "You bought this?"

"Either that or I'm breaking in." His brow raises and he offers his hand.

I take it and walk with him through the lush bushes, their leaves the same color as my dress in the moonlight. The path winds us to the front door, and again, he unlocks it. I peer inside. The entry is grand but empty. A crystal chandelier hangs dark between a set of double stairs. The candles flickering in the windows mingle with the moonlight, painting the whole scene as if in oils.

Our feet echo over the silver-marble floors. "It's a bit empty right now," he says, "though I thought you could help with that."

My hand skates over the golden roses carved at the end of the stair rail. "I would love to." The thought of a house—my own house—to decorate, manage, and rule over swells within me. My home will be the palace one day, but for now... My chin tips up, and starlight rains down on me from the glass ceiling above. For now, this will do nicely. "Your sister won't mind?"

"Ariasi will be headed back to our Crest to manage things for me there." He takes a seat on the stairs, one hand propped on his knee, the other leg sprawling.

I lean against the stair railing. "Crest?"

"Weren't you the one who told me to ask my spies?" He flashes that sharp snake-smile, and I smile softly back. "You did well, Sylnavi. Between my infrastructure and your... engagement gift, I believe you called it?" He leans back on his elbows. "At this point, it would take a concerted effort from several movers to block our seat at the table."

A wicked delight sparks within me. "And no one knows we're coming."

"No one knows we're coming," he agrees.

I slip to sit beside him, my skirts spilling over several steps. "It's all over but the counting then."

"Almost," he says.

My head tilts. "What else is left?"

"I don't imagine you'll have to wait too much longer to see."

I pull back, regarding him with a knit brow. His aura plays the same as ever. His body language is still relaxed, comfortable as an emperor on his throne. He doesn't mean me any harm, and yet there is something undeniably ominous to his words.

I'm about to press him for more information when I feel it. There, rapidly coming into range of my Hearing, is Mother's aura. It blows like a summer storm, coming closer and fiercer with each moment. I start to jump up, but Veidan sets a hand on my arm. "All is well."

"You don't understand. My parents—"

"Are here? I expected as much." He sits up, straightening his suit jacket. "Would you like to announce our engagement or shall I?"

Years of practice alone keeps my stare focused rather than blank and blinking. My mind spins, desperately searching for sense in this tapestry he's woven when all I can see are the disjointed threads at hand. I don't have time to put the picture together, though, before Father bursts through the door.