The Academy hosted a masquerade banquet, an evening that was just as much about politics as it was about pleasure.
Students were expected to mingle with nobles, guildmasters, foreign envoys, and peers.
A single curtsey could open a patronage, a careless word could close a lane of favor, and every polite compliment might be counted in a log by morning.
The chandeliers were hung with warded glass, the air perfumed to soothe nerves, and every silk and mask in the hall was also a small, deliberate performance of influence.
Under that glitter, the night functioned like a market. Nobles came to appraise talent and treaty, guild masters came to smell opportunity, visiting courts sent eyes and ears to see which houses were rising or falling.
For students, it was practice in public diplomacy, a test of poise under observation, and for some, the first real encounter with the machinery that turned skill into leverage.
This is where lessons leave the lecture hall and become currency.
The great hall of the Arcane Academy had been draped in moonsilk and silver veils until it looked less like a lecture chamber and more like a dreaming sky.
Candles hung in glass spheres, each one cradled by a tiny sigil that kept the wind from snuffing their light.
Enchanted drifts of pale ribbon curled from the rafters, catching glints of Aether and scattering them into soft motes.
The air smelled of spiced wine and crushed petals, and every footstep sounded oddly private beneath the rustle of so many layered gowns.
Students adjusted masks at the edge of the hall, half-carved ivory, filigreed metal, feathers threaded with thin runes, while nobles in tailored finery moved through the crowd like a current.
The evening was meant to be a show and a safeguard in one, pleasure for the city, a performance of the Academy's control over beauty and order.
Aurelia smoothed the fold of her own mask, a simple crescent of silver that left the lower half of her face visible, and let her practiced calm ride up like armor.
Masks make everything easier. People speak as they would in the dark, words are sharper for it, but the edges blur until you choose to name them.
Lysandra arrived in a tumble of laughing color, as if she had brought the sun along as an accessory.
She waved and tugged Aurelia's sleeve. "Never thought the Academy would have a masquerade for a party. You look positively lethal," she whispered, grinning. "Like someone who could make a dagger lecture a fool."
Aurelia gave the smallest, reluctant smile. "We'll try not to murder anyone with rhetoric tonight."
At least not until dessert.
Kael slipped in behind them with the easy quiet of someone who preferred to be noticed for what he did, not how he dressed. His mask was plain, a dark strip tied close, and it made his face look pared to its essentials.
He's not showy. He is precise even when he wants to be unseen.
The banquet swelled into motion. Music, strings with a faint harmonic undertone of Aether, pulled people into dances, conversations, and the careful business of political theater.
Servers moved like practiced shadows, presenting platters of sugared figs and candied roots.
The music swelled and shimmered, violins and laughter tangling like threads of silk.
Aurelia, Lysandra, and Kael wandered through the ballroom in quiet rhythm.
Every table gleamed with crystal, every face masked in some bright artifice of silk and feathers.
Then—
a flicker in the corner of Aurelia's vision.
An individual stepped into their path, dressed in a jester's finery, deep violet and pale gold, with a porcelain mask painted to convey a perpetual grin. Bells at his collar chimed softly with every graceful step.
Kael froze. Entirely.
Aurelia noticed the way his hand tensed at his side, the flicker in his eyes that wasn't fear but recognition.
Do they know each other? She thought, a prickle of curiosity sparking. But why is he so serious then?
Lysandra blinked. "Who's that?" she whispered.
The clown's painted grin shifted into a theatrical frown, his mask morphing as if alive, reshaping into sadness. "Ah," he sighed dramatically, hand over heart, "you wound me, my dear."
Even the air felt momentarily enchanted, drawn into his cadence.
Then, with a sweeping bow and a trail of confetti, he announced, "Marcellin Voss, Guildmaster of the Harlequin Hierarchy, a home for the talented, the strange, and the beautifully misplaced. I come bearing an invitation."
His gloved hand extended toward Kael. "You, scholar of restraint and ruin, have my eye. Once you graduate, I'd see you among us, a place equal to your power… and your potential."
Kael said nothing at first, but Aurelia saw the smallest tremor in his jaw, his mind catching up to something unspoken. Then he straightened, replying carefully, "…I'll think about it."
The clown's mask rippled, the sadness melting into a sun-bright smile. "Wonderful!" he sang. "Then I'll await your decision, Kael Arden. Don't keep the world waiting too long."
He bowed again, confetti flaring from his sleeve, and in an instant, he was gone.
Vanished into the dance, leaving only violet sparks drifting through candlelight.
Lysandra brushed gold dust from her hair and blinked after him. "Well," she said at last, "he was utterly strange… but I kind of love him for it."
Aurelia crossed her arms, her mask tilting in thought. The Harlequin Hierarchy
That name tugged at the back of her mind, something she'd heard once, perhaps in passing, in whispers between professors or nobles.
"Harlequin Hierarchy," she murmured. "That name… it sounds familiar."
Kael's tone was quiet, almost detached. "It should. They've been around for a century. They take in people who don't fit anywhere else. Scholars. Outcasts. People like—"
He stopped himself.
Aurelia's gaze sharpened slightly beneath her mask. "Like you?" she finished softly.
Kael hesitated, then shrugged, eyes turning to the chandeliers above. "Maybe once."
For a moment, the three stood together in a silence that wasn't uncomfortable, just thoughtful, the kind that belonged to people who were beginning to see each other more clearly.
Then Lysandra clapped her hands, bright as always. "Enough of that brooding. We're at a party, not a funeral! Aurelia, look at you, still moonlight and mystery. Kael, you're practically glowing in that suit. Honestly, if I didn't know you two, I'd think you were a couple already."
Aurelia huffed softly, shaking her head but not denying the faint warmth creeping to her cheeks. "You're insufferable, Lysandra."
Lysandra grinned, looping her arm through Aurelia's and then Kael's. "And yet you'd both be lost without me."
Kael's lips twitched, almost a smile.
They moved back into the swirl of the masquerade, three figures beneath the chandeliers, each carrying secrets now slightly heavier and yet strangely lighter, too.
The music rose again. Masks glimmered. And somewhere high above, confetti still drifted down like the remnants of laughter that refused to die.
But Aurelia's mind lingered.
She replayed that brief moment, the instant the clown appeared, the way Kael's eyes widened, not in surprise, but recognition. The kind that comes from history. From memory.
His voice, calm as it was, hadn't matched the crimson on his cheeks nor the tension in his stance. He'd looked cornered, not by invitation, but by truth.
And beneath the lights, as laughter danced around her, Aurelia felt that quiet unease again.
The sense that Kael Arden was not just mysterious but known to someone dangerous.
Someone who smiled behind a mask.
Then a bow cut through the current of movement, Prince Lucien, immaculate, a pale sunburst mask tilted to flatter.
He approached with the slow certainty of someone used to being granted things.
"Lady Caelistra," he said, voice measured as a bell. "May I?"
Aurelia's throat tightened in a way that had nothing to do with the music.
Refuse? In front of the whole hall? A small scandal. Decline the prince? A larger one.
She inhaled, smoothing the minor irritation into courtly neutrality. "Of course," she said, shaping the sound into a politeness that would not catch.
He offered his hand, and she placed her fingers before looking to Lysandra and Kael, motioning an apologetic gesture.
A brief flicker of uncertainty passed between them, but she quickly masked it with a serene smile.
The atmosphere held an undercurrent of tension, but she was determined to maintain her composure.
As they moved into the dance, she felt the room sharpen into a private ellipse, others were there, but they were muffled, like figures seen through gauze.
Lucien's face, behind the mask, held nothing at first, a practiced neutrality that revealed nothing. He turned the conversation into small, safe observations. "You wear the mask well," he said. "You look… pretty."
Aurelia mirrored the same neutral cadence. Compliment accepted. No warmth supplied. "Thank you." She let the words sit like a coin on the tongue, polite, uncommitted.
For a few beats, they moved on the same measured rhythm, the kind of dance they had both been taught since childhood, step, turn, bow.
Then his voice dipped closer, quiet enough that only she could hear it over the music. The tone shifted, a small thing, so small she almost missed it.
"I don't want the arrangement," he murmured.
She blinked.
His mouth had not yet moved into a smile, and his eyes were still careful and controlled. "What do you mean?" she asked, keeping the question soft.
He inhaled, slow as if choosing each thought he offered. "I don't want to be chained." The words were low, almost conspiratorial. "I don't want every step of my life accounted for on a chessboard. You feel the same."
Heat climbed along Aurelia's spine at the recognition. He named what she feared to name herself.
For a moment, something like a real expression softened his features, a private tilt as if they'd both unbuckled an expectation at once. Then he popped a brief smile on his lips. "It's a shame," he added lightly, and there was a teasing lift now. "We would make such a perfect pair."
Aurelia's reflex was sharper than politeness. Instinctively, she stamped, an old, childish motion she kept for offending shoes, and her heel met his foot with a slight, audible crunch.
Lucien blinked, then masked the bite of pain with the same immaculate poise he wore for everything.
He hissed small, wounded words that he disguised as a laugh. "Clumsy," he said, letting the single syllable hang between them.
Lucien recovered instantly, voice brightening. "Only joking. You wound me to the quick."
Aurelia was surprised at the private proof that he could be hurt under all the polish.
Her reply came with a sharpened edge softened by a sudden, secret amusement. "You speak as if I intended to be perfect company," she said.
Lucien's eyes crinkled at the edges in a practiced half-smile that might have been real.
He let the music draw them through another turn, then added with that same careless, dangerous ease, "I only want to have fun throughout life. Marriage may keep me from it."
The words were both bravado and a confession. Aurelia couldn't tell which he meant.
Around them, dancers spun and whispered. Lysandra watched them from the fringe, a curious smile on her face, while Kael lingered down the gallery in shadow, glance thoughtful but unreadable.
Aurelia let the music carry them through the remainder of the dance.
Underneath the practiced motions, something had shifted, a recognition that the prince, like herself, might be less a symbol than a person who resented his bindings.
We are both bound, but perhaps not in the same chains.
The quartet of strings faded into a lilting cadence as Lucien eased Aurelia through the last turn.
He released her hand with a courtly bow, the polished movement undercut by the faintest limp from her purposeful stomp.
A ripple of laughter from nearby nobles nearly drowned in the applause that followed the song.
Aurelia's eyes narrowed with intensity as she leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. "So, what happens next? Your elder brother, the crown prince, is destined to ascend to the throne and become the emperor. And you… what is your ambition in all of this? Do you secretly aspire to usurp his position and claim the crown for yourself?"
Lucien's expression darkened, the easy charm vanishing in an instant. "Never. I would never do such a thing," he said, voice tense with restrained anger. His respect for his brother was palpable, almost fierce.
Aurelia tilted her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "What's fun without a little trouble?"
Lucien narrowed his piercing sky eyes, his body radiating a palpable tension that seemed to charge the air between them. "Is this because I shared a moment of playful banter with you?" he questioned, his voice laced with sharpness that cut through the silence. "Are you genuinely stooping to such harsh words just to settle a score with me?" The low tone of his voice, though restrained, overflowed with an intensity that demanded an immediate response.
Aurelia met his gaze unflinchingly, her grip tightening with fierce resolve, and her tone remained steady, like a calm sea amid a brewing storm. "And what if I am?" she replied, her eyes reflecting a challenge.
In response, Lucien's fingers wrapped firmly around her hand, the pressure both commanding and possessive. "You'll be dead where you stand," he warned, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper.
Aurelia blinked, caught off guard not by the strength of his hold but by the flash of vulnerability that pierced through his bravado.
I had always sensed his sensitivity toward his brother, like an undercurrent in his demeanor, but I never expected it to manifest with such intensity now.
Slowly, her expression softened, empathy rising within her. "I… I apologize," she said gently, her words hanging heavy in the charged atmosphere between them.
Lucien released her just enough to meet her eyes. "Good. But… don't ever say such things again." There was no lingering anger, only the quiet, unmistakable weight of pride and loyalty.
Aurelia let her hand slip free, but didn't step back. "You know," she said lightly, "for someone who claims to want fun, you get awfully serious when it comes to family politics."
Lucien's brows knitted, lips twitching like he wanted to scowl but couldn't quite manage it. "I… am serious. That's different."
"Different, huh?" she repeated, circling him slowly, letting the motion tease at his composure. "I see. So the crown prince can do whatever he wants, and the emperor can dictate… but heaven forbid the younger brother entertain an idea?"
His mouth opened, then closed again. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply, trying to maintain the remnants of his dignity. "You're impossible," he muttered.
Aurelia stopped in front of him, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she looked up at him. "You know, I think I understand why I enjoy messing with you so much," she said softly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. "I learned it from you."
Lucien's eyes flickered with something unspoken, a spark of amusement and irritation all at once. He shook his head, finally letting a small laugh escape. "You really are… infuriating," he admitted, and for the first time, there was no edge to the words, just recognition.
Aurelia allowed a sly smile to settle on her lips. "Good. I'd hate to think I'm wasting my time."
Two nobles glided forward, their robes heavy with gold embroidery, masks gleaming like frost.
"Such harmony," the older woman said, her sharp eyes peering from behind a silver mask. "It warms us to see the future dancing in step."
The man beside her offered a knowing smile. "A promising match indeed. House Caelistra and the royal line. One can almost hear the future writing itself."
Aurelia executed a flawless curtsy, her words measured. "Your compliments honor us, the dance was merely a lesson in grace."
Lucien mirrored her mask, his voice smooth as velvet. "Merely a lesson," he echoed. "But even lessons can spark…inspiration."
The nobles exchanged a glance that glimmered with implication before drifting back into the crowd.
Only when they were safely swallowed by music and laughter did Aurelia let the smallest breath escape.
"Why don't you get out of my sight, Aurelia?" Lucien said, an impish smile dancing on his lips.
Aurelia responded with a playful bow, her eyes sparkling. "As you wish, my lord," she replied jestingly, leaving.
Kael approached, studied her a moment, then his shoulders eased. "He seemed… entertained and yet troubled," he said finally, quieter than before. "Did he say anything?"
Aurelia gave him a dry look that had the faint edge of a smile. "Nothing we can't handle. We spoke of politics." She let the words sit between them, trustworthy and tidy.
Kael's breath came out in a small, rueful puff, "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I—there's nothing I could do in there for you."
Aurelia cut him off with a small, dry smile that kept her voice even. "You don't need to apologize."
He thinks he failed when he never had the burden to carry.
She lifted her chin a fraction, letting the moonlight catch the silver at her temple. "This was politics. Standard. Expected. Lucien and I cleared up a few things. Neither of us wants the arrangement."
Kael's shoulders hunched, the motion almost imperceptible. "That's good for you," he said, voice low. "But—" He swallowed. "What about him? Even if he's not to be matched with you, he'll be matched with someone else. They don't leave these things to chance." The sorrow in his tone was plain, for the boy behind the title.
Aurelia watched him, the fact of his sympathy folding into her chest like a small, warm weight.
He feels for people who are caged. Not because they are noble or not, but because they are still people.
"I share your worries," she said at last. "Now that I know more of who's behind that mask… It's harder to treat this like a simple contract."
Kael tilted his head, studying her profile. "You mean Lucien."
"Yes." She folded her hands against the railing, the cool iron grounding her thoughts. "For all his practiced charm, he's not just a prince. He's a boy forced to play a game none of us asked to join. Knowing that…"
She exhaled, a sigh that carried both empathy and unease. "It's not so easy to dismiss the marriage as only politics. It's someone's life being bartered."
Kael's mouth softened into an expression that might have been a smile. "Then we'll keep each other honest," he said. "If the world wants to deal in ledgers, we'll keep the margins human."
Aurelia let out a little laugh, unforced, small. "Agreed."
Suddenly, a flash of gold and silk cut between them.
Lysandra swept in with a playful flourish, catching Aurelia by the waist and spinning her out before either of them could react.
Aurelia blinked, startled, then let a small smile tug at her lips. "And what exactly are you doing?"
Lysandra only winked, her grin bright behind the feathered mask. "Dancing, of course."
Behind them, Kael slowed to a halt, surprise flickering across his face before settling into quiet acceptance. He gave them a small, knowing smile, then stepped back toward the tables.
A servant passed with a tray of crystal flutes. Kael plucked one and leaned casually against a pillar, watching without intrusion.
Aurelia exhaled a half-sigh, half-laugh as Lysandra twirled her through the next measure. "You certainly know how to make an entrance."
"The one and only," Lysandra replied, eyes glinting with triumph.
They spun once more before Lysandra leaned in, voice dropping to a mischievous whisper. "I saw you stomp on the prince's foot."
Aurelia's cheeks warmed, the memory flashing like a spark. "That was… in the moment," she said quickly.
Lysandra's laugh rang bright over the music. "Serves him right, then."
Aurelia couldn't help the soft smile that answered it, the tension of courtly masks loosening for just a heartbeat beneath the chandelier's glow.