If the Duel of Cinders had been blood and spectacle, then the Midnight Ball was its phoenix rebirth, the violence transmuted into velvet, jewels, and firelight. Solmire did not do subtlety; it preferred to dazzle until the eye watered and the heart forgot to question what, exactly, it was celebrating.
The carriages came first, a river of gilded beasts winding up the marble causeway toward the Hall of Eternal Flame. Each vehicle, emblazoned with family crests and dripping gold filigree, passed through the ceremonial archway, a gateway of living fire.
The flames curved and coiled around every carriage, testing, so they said, the "purity of intention" of those who entered. (One must imagine, then, that Solmire's nobility burned far more brightly than they ever intended.)
Names were proclaimed like hymns.
"House Drakas!"
"House Kaknov!"
"House Ashvane!"
