Skye had visited all the mansions in the undercity, and a few above, but none was as beautiful as the Neashures’. For a change, they didn’t attempt to blind their guests with a million glowing gemstones. Where others hung gleaming chandeliers, they dangled long vines ending in a cluster of fragrant roses. And while most in Troqua believed their walls should be smothered with crystals and gems, they graced theirs with a legion of flowers of every color.

  Soft music played from the main hall, accompanied by the angelic singing of a young woman. An urge to dance took over Skye’s senses, and he had to fight it to remain hidden. He’d experienced such feelings before in the barons’ vaults. One of the hundred prismatic blossoms arranged around the entrance must be emitting a special strain of fantasia that played with emotions, making him giddy.

  Better to wait till his body grew accustomed.

  The guests inside the huge hall were arranged around tables. The tables were interspersed by small fountains and flowery shrubs. And everything was arranged in an oval around a central raised stage where the young lady sang. All around, glass walls gave a magnificent view of the swaying garden flowers. And in the distance, the Avyhandouse Mountains shimmered under Nemental’s pale-blue light, their snowy crowns gleaming like cold fire. It was a scene out of a fairy tale.

  Two things dragged him back to reality. First was the thirty or so wardens standing guard along the walls and perched on the upper vanguards, their astra unashamedly displayed. Second was the fact that any of these charmingly dressed merchants, with their glowing jewelry and fake smiles, could be the mastermind behind the conspirators’ actions.

  Skye swallowed.

  Duke Hishtem Illisht sat furthest from the door, with almost a dozen wardens patrolling around. He shared the table with one man; a stranger that Skye had never seen before.

  Grimacing, Skye steeled himself and sauntered into the hall.

  Servers squinted at him; some of the guests frowned, while wardens whispered to each other. As he approached the duke’s table, two armed wardens walked to intercept him, so he jumped under the nearest table, eliciting cries of alarm from the aged couple sitting there. Hidden behind the olive-green tablecloth, he rang his bell.

  Calm returned to the hall, everyone to their seats and stations. Skye was about to leave, but stopped when he heard the words “Green Eve”.

  Peeking from under the table, he recognized the couple sharing it as the hosts of this gathering. Vaesh Neashure was a thin man, with a line-thin mustache, and thinning hair. He wore a lime-green suit, encrusted in shining gemstones that might have better suited a younger man.

  A younger man that worked in a circus.

  His wife, Hidenea, was the total opposite. She was at least four times his size, with two chins, and tons of makeup that made her look like a clown who’d suffered a mishap. Her pink ballgown was wide and long, with a pair of sparkling shoes peeking out underneath.

  Skye edged closer under the table, hoping to eavesdrop.

  This couple not only owned one of Troqua’s six gemfarms, they also managed half of Florald District, supplying the city with greens and livestock products. His investigation of them had only revealed that they loved to drink wine on the surface, and that Baron Neashure was a terrible gambler.

  “I’m telling you, the best time to do it is at Green Eve,” Hidenea whispered. “That’s when everyone makes their plans and signs new contracts.”

  “But what if they don’t reply by then?” Vaesh complained. “We can’t make promises now. We have to wait.”

  What are they planning?

  “They will reply, I’m sure of it. My code is perfect this time,” Hidenea replied. “Shh, here comes our guests.” Her chair sighed in relief as she rose. “Oh, welcome Baron Tarian, Baroness Meelia, please join us.”

  Those are Nakais’s parents.

  As the two couples greeted each other, Skye peeked underneath the fabric to steal a glance. Tarian Alektom looked much like his son Nakais, had Nakais been handsome and in good shape. He was clean-shaven, his golden-brown hair combed to perfection. His straight posture, confident smile, and sharp black suit gleaming with polished gems, all marking him as a highborn baron.

  His wife, however, looked like she could arm-wrestle every warden present, and win. She was a head taller than her husband, her muscles well-defined beneath her elegant red dress. Her blonde hair was short, flipping just past her ears. As she approached, her eyes darted downwards, her smile faltering at the sight of Skye. Quickly, He slid back under, ringing his bell.

  Three things were known about the Alektoms to all Troqueans: Don’t bet against Tarian Alektom as the man had half the city’s luck. Don’t challenge him to a duel as he’d name his wife as champion, and she’d give you much time to regret your mistake while you recover in the hospital from third-degree burns. And lastly, the Alektoms hated the Meadrixes with a blazing passion.

  “I like what you did to the place, Hidenea,” Tarian said, taking a seat. “It’s very much… you.”

  “Oh, stop it you!” Hidenea said with a high-pitched laugh. “I’m so glad you two could make it today.”

  “Oh, we’re not Rikals. Of course we’ll show,” Meelia said, her voice a bit gruff. “I bet Reloux would die alone in his mansion, rot, and no one would notice for months.”

  Hidenea laughed nervously. “Lovely thoughts, dear.”

  Tarian sipped his wine. “Have you two had the time to consider my proposal?”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  The Neashures fidgeted in their seats. “This Green Eve is looking quite full for us,” Vaesh Neashure apologized in his mousy voice. “Why don’t you delay your plans until next year, hmm? It’ll give you more time to prepare.”

  Meelia slammed the table, making Skye flinch “Nonsense, our teams are ready. If those Void-damned Meadrixes are doing it, so are we!”

  Why is everyone making plans for the Eve?

  “Speaking of the devil,” Tarian said, then he leaned in to whisper. “Please keep this matter between us. There’s no need to share our plans with unworthy ears.”

  “Baron Maiveux, Baroness Shury, so wonderful of you to join us!” Hidenea greeted, rising again with her husband. “This table is getting a tad crowded. Waiters! Bring chairs.”

  Skye risked a glance.

  Take handsome Tarian Alektom, mix him with his beefy wife Meelia, then add a bit of grizzly bear, and you get Maiveux Meadrix. The man had the build of a gang leader, and the beard to match. He wore a brown suit, with geodoise gems in the shape of a cracked boulder on his chest.

  His wife Shury was his opposite, petit and pale. Everything was small about her; her lips, nose, eyes, breasts. She barely reached her husband’s bellybutton. Her brown dress had a reddish hue to it, matching her wavy hair.

  Three things were known about the Meadrixes to all Troqueans: Don’t embezzle from Baron Maiveux unless you want to know how it’s like to wrestle an elexos. Don’t insult Shury Meadrix or her family unless you have a food-taster, as her scorners end up purple, foaming at the mouth. And lastly, the Meadrixes hated the Alektoms with a petrifying passion.

  “I caught a waft of caveboar just now, then I turned and saw you,” Baron Tarian said in greeting.

  “I have wrestled many caveboars in my youth,” baron Maiveux replied sternly. “None backstabbed me or played dirty to get ahead. Compared to you, Alektoms, they’re honorable opponents. Decent looking too.”

  “Oh, poor Shury. Has your savage husband locked you in a cage again with no food or light?” Baroness Meelia japed.

  Shury scoffed delicately. “Not at all, love. My husband simply prefers to lie with a lady, not a stonebear.”

  These barons don’t pull punches.

  Hidenea let out a laugh like a choked trumpet. “Look at you all together! You look wonderful! Please, sit!”

  Chairs scrapped. Butts settled. A moment later, wine glasses clinked.

  “When I was little,” Baroness Shury started, her voice soft. “I used to copy my older brother in everything he did. If he wore a blue dress, I wanted a blue dress. If he had pudding, I’d want pudding too. One time, he wet his bed and when I found out, I ran to mine and did the same. Oh, I was a brat! But…” She took a sip of wine, her voice rising an octave. “I was sooting four. What’s your bloody excuse, you shameless copycats?”

  “That’s called envy dear,” her husband Maiveux said. “It’s what happens when lesser men try to think. They copy their betters.”

  Baron Alektom set down his glass a bit too forcefully. “Seems rockmoles are active this time of the year, dear. I’ll have to call the exterminators again to smoke them out.”

  “No need, love,” Meelia replied smoothly. “Had they been competent moles, they’d have mentioned we’ve been preparing for years. Keep them. I love to watch competition scramble to keep up with last season’s news.”

  Baron Vaesh Neashure cleared his throat. “Had you gentlefolk considered, perhaps, trying to, let’s say, cooperate with one another?”

  “No!” four voices snapped in unison.

  “I hope we’re not interrupting anything important,” a new voice said, a woman’s, lilting and amused.

  A wheezy laugh followed. “I’m willing to bet half my mansion they’re comparing gems again.”

  Despite the crowded table, Skye’s curiosity compelled him to peek again. To his surprise, the new arrivals held two different insignias which meant that this table now had representatives from five merchant houses.

  Judging by the dewy aquanturines shaped like a wave on her chest, the woman was none other than Baroness Calystra Cordropee. Rumors say that twenty-five years ago her house was teetering on bankruptcy when she petitioned her father to expand their gemfarm. He’d refused, fearing the whole tunnel system might collapse, but she did it anyway. Now, her house was amongst the richest in the city as her venture awarded them several new gemgardens.

  Presently, she was a widow in her mid-forties, strikingly beautiful for her age. Her dress was silver with tints of azure, and a wide-brimmed white hat covered her short black hair.

  The man next to her had to be Geone Obtundril judging by his oversized psychosite ring shaped like a skull. The oldest baron, a man with greying hair and large sunglasses. Had Skye seen him anywhere in the city dressed in anything other than his fancy navy blue suit, he’d think him a kindly grandfather. Which was furthest from the truth, because the one thing everyone knew about house Obtundril was how ruthless they were.

  More chairs were brought, and the new not-couple joined the table.

  “Baron Geone has a lovely secret he’d like to share,” Calystra said in a high, teasing voice.

  “My secret was supposed to be secret,” Baron Geone said in reprimand. He panted as he spoke, as though the act exhausted him. “It is the culmination of my life’s work, and something grave that’s been keeping me up at night. You all are invited to my palace on Green Eve to witness the truth and judge for yourselves.”

  Him too?! Skye almost punched himself. He’d spent a month searching for answers, and hadn’t uncovered anything suspicious about the barons.

  “I’m afraid we must decline, Baron Geone,” Baron Alektom said. “We have our own affairs on the Eve.”

  “So do we,” baroness Shury said.

  Baroness Calystra laughed heartily. “I only shared your secret, dear Geone, because I too am planning a special event for this Eve. Let me assure you that whatever affairs you gentlefolk have planned, they deserve to be postponed. I know for certain that our lovely duke will attend. He looks rather dashing today, doesn’t he?”

  “If you wish to seduce poor Hishtem, do it on your own time,” Baroness Shury said dryly.

  “I say give up on wooing the man,” Baroness Hidenea said solemnly. “Sweet Rullana still holds his heart.”

  Old baron Geone started to laugh, but he broke into a dreadful cough. A waiter rushed over with water. “I’m afraid your love potion won’t work. The man has… a keen sense of danger.”

  Baroness Calystra chuckled, not sounding insulted. “I won’t be needing any potions, dear, and there won’t be any seducing. He’ll come to my palace; you’ll see. And so will all of you. My wedding gift to him will… blow him away. Blow everyone away.”

  “Is it another lunaline stone?” Baron Tarian said. “Love, how big was the one our men found the other night?”

  Meelia took a long sip of wine. “Big enough for a lovely necklace for your wife.”

  “Bah! You found one miserable lunaline and you think that’s brag-worthy?” Maiveux scoffed. “Our men find one every month!”

  “And some of them fill your entire palm,” Shury added.

  “That’s not something to brag about when you have the hands of a child,” Meelia replied, taking a sip of wine.

  The jibes kept flying, fast and petty. Skye soon realized they wouldn’t be revealing anything of value. Remembering his original mission, he glanced at the duke, and found him still at his table with his strange companion.

  He took a deep breath, then crawled out from under the table.

  “Gah!” Baroness Hidenea jumped in fright.

  Wardens rushed in instantly. Baron Maiveux nearly caught him with his massive hands. Skye rang his bell and sprinted to the nearest table, diving under it for cover. This one was quieter, though its startled guests screamed louder when he burst out again.

  He ran again, and again, rushing toward the duke’s table, hiding whenever the wardens got too close. At each leap, the music faltered, attendees shouted louder, and the wardens resorted to deadly force faster.

  Finally, breathless and dizzy, he dove beneath the duke’s table, his head throbbing from overusing the curse, and he had to wait for the fantasia to dissipate before stealing a glance.