The valley feels quieter than usual, hidden under a misty veil that has swallowed the morning sun. I’m in the courtyard, waiting. Kylo tilts his head, watching my restless pacing, making me smile and releasing my tense anticipation. Today is the day.

  I’m ready, fully dressed for a battle—or a party. The nice calf-high leather boots Bae insisted were just right for me are fully laced, finally. My hair is pinned into a sophisticated mess resembling a bird’s nest. Maybe one of those swallows looping around the courtyard snatching insects will calm down and lay some eggs there.

  Okay, okay. Maybe not. I acknowledge that it is an elegant masterpiece, even if it took Bae ages to finish—not something I could or even would do myself. No, thank you.

  I take in my reflection in the mirror Bae brought out to show me the result of her work. I can barely recognize my hair as mine. My recent breakthrough has made it grow out a lot, apart from lightening its natural color and giving it a coppery hue. Now, all those soft waves have been twisted and pinned at the nape of my neck and woven into an intricate knot that seems to shimmer and dance when it catches the light. Each section folds into the next like a silk ribbon. Some strands have been left loose by design to frame my face in a way that softens the updo, giving it a hint of untamable youthful rebelliousness. Tiny silver pins poke out here and there, like stars tangled in the weave that holds everything in place somehow.

  It’s a hairstyle that suggests that I am someone important—with enough money to throw around—that I have servants who do it for me because there is no way to do it yourself without help.

  Well, if I’m going to a gathering of nobles, the least I can do is look like one.

  “Admiring yourself, I see,” someone snickers behind me.

  I whirl around. “Bae! You scared me,” I accuse her in faux annoyance, which makes her snort. “Is there no way you can come?” I ask, pouting like a child.

  She sighs and rubs her forehead. “I could, but I prefer not to. The last few times I went didn’t end well.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, those idiots are too close-minded. They don’t think of those like me as people. More like we are pets or something.” She stares at her flicking tail. Her ears twitch as if listening to the memories of distant voices. “I don’t like it.”

  I look at her wide-eyed. “Did those idiots insult you or something?”

  “What? No! Don’t be silly!” She snickers again before tugging at one of the knots in my hair. “They wouldn’t dare. Not to my face. It’s just…,” she sighs, letting her shoulders sag and her tail fall into the dirt. “All those fake smiles, hiding viperine tongues and sharpened teeth. That forced laughter that sounds like glass about to crack. The not-so-subtle glances that linger on my tail or ears before looking at my dress and judging that it’s too good for someone like me, that I don’t belong. As if I was just there because of a fancy whim, because I’m Master Wen’s friend, and not because I have a right to be there due to being stronger than all of those idiots.”

  “Oh,” I mutter, not knowing what to say.

  “The funny thing is…” Bae forces a grin. “The funny thing is that when I say or do something about it, they get scared and make a ruckus. And then they try to get Master Wen to put me on a leash. When he ignores them, they run to search for some of their surviving old ancestors. Like the emperor’s grandma, a real immortal who has retired from worldly affairs. The last time that happened, that bitch didn’t even care to address me directly and instead got into a shouting match with Master Wen. I nearly thought I would die in embarrassment.” She looks up at me. “Well, that’s why I don’t attend their gatherings anymore. It’s almost as if they invite me to spite me and show me that I’m not one of them. As if I would care.” She snickers again. “They can keep their childish gatherings. I would rather dance with the villagers and mountain beasts than bow to a room full of arrogant bastards.”

  “I see.” It doesn’t sound welcoming, more like a den of vipers. Having Bae at my side when I go there would be nice. She feels like a pillar to lean on. A cliff facing the storm, solid and unfaltering. Who do I even know there? I sigh. “Do I have to go?”

  “Well, you do, honey. Sorry. It’s your gathering. Don’t worry, it won’t be that bad.”

  I glare at her. “I don’t remember having arranged it or even having the connections to do so.”

  Bae laughs. “Obviously. Master Wen did. But everyone has to know that he found his new apprentice, and they can stop pestering him.”

  Bam!

  The heavy slam of the door behind us makes me flinch and turn around. Master Wen is there, hand still hovering near the handle.

  “Good, good. You are ready. Let’s go!”

  Before I can react, he snaps his fingers. The valley disappears.

  We reappear on a recently cut lawn next to a trimmed hedge labyrinth, flowering bushes interspersed through the garden, and an enormous ballroom open to the outside.

  People are wandering all around us, moving in pairs or small groups. Nobody reacts to our sudden arrival, as if we had always been there.

  “It seems we arrived early,” observes Master Wen. He looks around as if searching for something or someone. “I’ll go inside to find a place to sit down and something to drink.” He looks at me, then at the young nobles chattering all over the garden. “I’ll call you when the emperor arrives. Until then, you can mingle or something.”

  With a snap of his fingers, he disappears, leaving me behind.

  I feel like a ship that has lost its anchor, trapped, drifting without course. The crowd’s voices swell like the rising tide, too large, too bright, pressing in like a wave. I stand there, clutching the hem of my dress like a lifeline, trying to look casual. I belong. No, I don’t. My skin prickles with the unmistakable weight of being seen alone. I am alone. Everybody knows each other. I’m the only outsider. I try to catch my breath. Don’t start hyperventilating. I’m not the only one alone. There is a guy on a bench reading a leatherbound book.

  I don’t have a book. Well, that is not true. I have a few in my ring. But I’m unsure if I can pull off that same nonchalant and carefree look. I take a glass flute from the tray of a passing servant to have something to occupy my hands with. Then, I try to calm myself and observe. Master Wen told me to mingle. I have practiced this with The Crow, but the real deal seems more intimidating. I always felt more comfortable hiding in the shadows than in plain sight.

  Stop! Breathe. I belong. I am where I’m supposed to be. I take a sip of my beverage. It’s slightly acidic and surprisingly fuzzy, designed to refresh on what promises to become a hot day.

  Conversations move around me in polished, effortless currents I can’t step into because I lack the context and the know-how to sail through them. Laughter rises and falls like the waves, like music in a language I don’t speak.

  Glances slid over me, feeling sharper than they should, judging my worth based on what I wear. Do I look awkward? Should I move? The garden seems to spin around me. I feel myself shrinking at the edges, like a ghost at the party, trying not to drone on my solitary island between crowds.

  After a while, I calm down. Nobody cares. There is only so long you can panic with nothing happening before you become bored.

  I take a closer look at the crowd. The garden shimmers with the quiet spectacle of wealth that didn’t need to announce itself because it lingers in every detail, from their sleeve’s cut to the glint of fine diadems and other jewelry. The nobles move over the grass like dancers, silky velvet trailing behind them, voices low and polished, interrupted by sudden giggles and laughter. It seems somehow rehearsed as if the entire gathering was a performance and the attendants paid actors playing a role.

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  There even seem to be some patterns to the game. It’s almost as if people are color-coded. The Peruvians I already recognize always wear silver-grey like me or black. Interestingly, both groups don’t intermingle between them, almost as if there was a competition, a hidden rivalry. Black mingles with emerald and wine-dark red. Silver-grey does with orange and lime-green. Did I declare that I belong to one of those factions just by the color of my dress? Shit! Why didn’t Bae and Hina, the tailor, think about that? Maybe it is because none of them have been to court in ages, and this is something new. Or am I imagining it?

  More fabrics brush past one another, embroidered with threads that catch the light like strands of gold or shimmering runes. I still don’t understand how Hina put those runes into the dress I’m wearing myself. It isn’t ink but woven or stitched with metallic thread.

  The air feels heavy and saturated to the point of sweetness. Layer upon layer of expensive perfume weaves together into an almost tangible fog that lingers over us because the omnipresent mountain breeze is missing here.

  Each breath tastes like something delicate and dangerous, citrus cutting through amber, thickly blooming floral notes trying to hide under musky tones to escape the encroaching whispers of coconut and something bitter. It feels overwhelming, intoxicating, oppressive—a velvet curtain of scent trying to smother me. It dances and collides into a blur of opulence, too much at once. It seeps and clings into skin and fabric like an invisible weight that follows you long after you escape. Or maybe it just feels that way because I’m still trying to accustom myself to the sudden increase in perception brought by my recent breakthrough.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see a scarlet-red blur homing in on me. “Mini!” A girl embraces me, clinging to me as if never allowing me to get free again. The scent of roses drowns everything else out.

  “Yuileen?” I ask.

  “What? How? I thought you left!” she exclaims. Then, she looks at me as if I stole her favorite cookies. “We thought you abandoned us! Not nice!” She shakes her head violently from side to side, making her red curls whirl around her face.

  “Err. I didn’t plan to. It was very sudden,” I try to apologize. Whose heir did she believe I was again? “And then I couldn’t leave until now.”

  “I know, I know.” She pouts, taking a step back and letting me breathe. Some people cast reproachful glares at us. Then, they shake their heads and return to their conversations. “Lin clan, then. Huh? Fancy dress, you look ferocious. Roar!” observes Yuileen with a smile while she curls her fingers and makes a pouncing gesture with her hand. “Good! My mom recently befriended their patriarch.”

  Oh, shit! The lie about becoming some clan’s new heir may come out.

  Did Bae set me up with this dress? How? They couldn’t have known, I never told her about Yuileen. Did I? That said, after Master Wen announces me as his new disciple, it won’t be relevant anymore.

  I take a good look at Yuileen. She hasn’t changed a bit. Her fancy red dress may attempt to make her look more mature, but her demeanor isn’t there yet. It clings to her body with a quiet intensity, hugging and enhancing every curve, closed on the front but wide open on the back, leaving an expanse of skin bare that seems almost scandalous, contrasting with the otherwise modest structure. The edges of the cut are soft and rounded, leading down to a slight dip at her waist before the fabric flows out, trailing behind her, almost caressing the grass like a rolling strawberry. It speaks a language of contrasts—innocent yet bold, reserved yet striking, leaving just enough to the imagination. She probably will need a stick to keep suitors away.

  “Come!” she commands, taking me by the hand. “Kamoe is over there. She won’t believe that I found you first!”

  We walk past the entrance to the ballroom. The sharp, crystalline notes of a violin reach us like the sudden flicker of sunlight on a lake, delicate yet playful and longing. It rises in waves that dance and play in calm joy before flaring into something passionate and urgent. The dancers spin and holler until the rising tension explodes, and only silence remains. I can finally see the musician standing on a stage, eyes closed. She moves the bow, starting a new song with smooth and relentless strokes that coax the strings to sing with an almost human voice—tender, fragile, and yet capable of raw and fierce emotion.

  Then we are past, and the music drowns out in the noise of the surrounding conversations. It still thumps faintly through the walls when a drum joins the party, a heartbeat muffled by the distance. I don’t fully listen anymore because I see Kamoe speaking with some red-haired boy. Our eyes cross, and she freezes. “Minae?”

  Yuileen at my side grins from ear to ear. “Look who I found, Kami!”

  The boy at her side looks up, too. Shit! It’s Turstan. He blinks as if not comprehending what his eyes are telling him. Then, his finger points toward me. “You!” he exclaims. “I know you… What are you doing with my cousin? Get away from her, fiend!”

  Both girls look at the boy with their mouths wide open. “That is no way to speak to one of my friends, Turstan!” Yuileen scolds him.

  “Your friend?” He looks at me as if the world doesn’t make sense anymore. “But she is a cheater, that...” His explanation drowns out into a whisper under the glares the girls send him.

  “A what?” asks Kamoe, looking bewildered.

  “Err, we fought a duel, and he lost!” I explain.

  “What?” asks Yuileen. “You’re not unbeaten anymore, huh?” She grins again. “Why haven’t you told anybody, Turstan?”

  The boy’s face turns dark like an overripe cherry. “Because she cheated.”

  “How?” asks Kamoe. “That’s a serious accusation. Are you claiming Minae didn’t follow the rules of your secret duel?”

  “There weren’t any rules,” I intervene. “Nor was there anything at stake except pride. Just a fight to surrender or unconsciousness with no other limitations.”

  I know, I know. I may not be from a noble family, but I won’t let myself be insulted before my friends. Friends? Huh? Maybe I do belong here. What was I worried about?

  “How can someone cheat when there are no rules?” asks Kamoe, seeming interested.

  “She used runes!”

  The girls look at each other. “She beat you using runes?” asks Yuileen, unable to contain her laughter. “No wonder you didn’t tell anyone about it!”

  “If there wasn’t a rule baring their use, it can’t be called cheating,” observes Kamoe. “It’s interesting, though. I wouldn’t have thought runes could be useful against someone with techniques.”

  “Argh! Whatever!” exclaims Turstan. He glares at me as if I am some unwelcome bug. Then his pupils widen. “You! I know why you are here!”

  “Obviously,” I mutter. I roll my eyes. It seems my anonymity is over. It doesn’t matter if he tells the girls. Soon, everyone will know anyway. I wish I could catch up with them before the nightmare begins.

  I wait for the other shoe to drop, but he only glares at me in silence as if we were bitter rivals. Then he scoffs and stands up. “Figures,” he mumbles before disappearing into the crowd.

  “Ugh. He may be your cousin, Yuli, but I’m relieved he is leaving,” whispers Kamoe. “I’m almost out of tactful excuses to keep rejecting his advances.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it. That idiot doesn’t understand no for an answer,” complains Yuileen. “I have to put up with his antics on each family gathering. He still boasts about being the strongest fighter of our generation,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Now, I can remind him that he lost a duel to a girl with lower cultivation.” She snickers. “Well done, Mini! And you, Kamoe. Just be as rude as you can next time. I don’t care if you make him cry, silly.” She makes a dismissive gesture with her hand. “As long as you remain tactful, he will believe you are interested in him.”

  “Ugh, boys!” Kamoe’s voice almost sounds as if she is gathering saliva to spit.

  “Tell me about it!” Yuileen rolls her eyes again. “Boys! Always trying to seduce every pretty girl they see in their awkward way.” She looks over to where I am, at the runes covering my forearm. “Forget about what those idiots may think. You need to redo our runes, Mini.” She points toward the spot where she had them and pouts. “They faded two weeks ago.”

  “Sure,” I concur, relieved that the interest about how and where Turstan and myself met has waned. “As soon as we have some time.”

  “Yeah, I want that, too,” adds Kamoe. “I’m getting hungry. Let’s get inside.

  On the marbled floor are even more nobles lurking around, most on the older side. I can see Master Wen munching on some bird’s leg while sitting with both feet up on an enormous table that takes in a whole side of the room. He winks at me. Nobody seems to care about his very un-noble-like demeanor. Can’t they see him? I thought Bae was the expert in using illusions. Maybe they are just too scared of him to say something or even look bad toward him. I built a mental image of what would happen when I walked in through the wide-open doors and how the air might shift. And now all that anticipation and fear collapses inside me. That isn’t how I imagined it. The scene before me seems almost mundane. Well, pompous like only a gathering of nobles can be, but nothing scary.

  A butler stands at the top of a grand staircase, back straight, chin raised, voice a precise instrument honed by years of service. He subtly clears his throat before announcing the next guest I’ve never seen. “Lord Angus von Kellnacht.” His tone carries just enough weight to draw the attention of everyone not dancing toward the entrance, in which a dark figure appears.

  I see a crooked nose, sunken eyes, and a sharp and angular face. I freeze like a mouse, noticing the silent shadow of an owl. Not an owl, The Crow. That’s The Crow. What the heck is The Crow doing here?

  The moment he steps into the room, I feel like time has folded in on itself. Everything pauses. What is he doing here? There he is, familiar and foreign as a forgotten song. My heart seems to skip a beat. I feel like I am balancing over the edge of an abyss.

  “Minae? Are you okay?” asks someone by my side, pulling me out of my trance. Yuileen.

  “Hmm, yeah. I thought I saw someone I knew.”

  “That Kellnacht Lord? I think he is related to the Unterhausens.”

  “Yeah!”

  It can’t be. Can it? I’m seeing phantoms. They only look alike.

  I gaze toward where the Lord is standing. Our eyes meet. There is a flicker of recognition there, keen sharpness. He smiles at me. It’s not a kind smile. It is the smile of a predator.