Lev stared at the canapés being brought around yet again. When he’d accepted the invitation to go with Livia to this party, he hadn’t quite anticipated this…extravagance. The room was enormous, lined with windows on his left and featuring alcoves for intimate conversations on his right. On the far side, a floor-to-ceiling door led to a large stone balcony overlooking well-tended gardens.

  The decorations blended chic and classic styles, with an array of couches, tables, and sculptures that likely cost a fortune. Guests milled about in equally expensive attire, while waiters flitted between them serving champagne and more canapés.

  Livia stood next to him in a flowing, floor-length gown of shimmering, semi-translucent fabric that subtly shifted in color with every movement, its delicate embroidered patterns glowing softly in the ambient light.

  The dress code should have told Lev all he needed to know about the event, but Livia had only mentioned a couple of days ago that it was a formal gathering, and that she’d handle his wardrobe. By the time the custom wardrobe set arrived—featuring a sleek, custom-tailored jacket accented with subtle reflective prisms and matching trousers echoing the clan’s luminary style—it was too late for him to protest.

  He’d agreed to come because Livia had lent him some expensive equipment he desperately needed a few weeks ago, and attending seemed like the polite thing to do. Plus, fancy free food and all. Had he known it would be so formal, he never would have said yes; parties like this always gave him a headache.

  Greeting people was the worst part. The handshakes, the Portilian embraces—none of it was real, but his body thought it could be. He remembered the hands, the feel of people, better than any of the names. Like memorizing a dictionary he’d never need again.

  And there were so many greetings. He’d known from the start that Livia’s family was quite wealthy. Her parents were were high up in the da Silva clan. This was one of their archaeological fundraisers. The da Silva clan was dedicated to finding a way off the planet by searching for a statherium cache in the ruins. It was a noble cause, as Livia had put it, almost like a charitable foundation working on behalf of the inhabitants of Aralin.

  Of course, Lev couldn’t ignore that the da Silvas often uncovered other valuable assets—mines, for instance—which they promptly claimed for themselves. The gala, he thought, celebrated wealth more than charity.

  Livia touched his arm lightly, breaking him out of his reverie. The contact was brief, but his brain latched onto it anyway, his body cataloging the pressure instantly. “Everything alright?” she asked. “You seem more down than usual today.”

  Lev just stood there, blinking for a moment. Livia had been so busy mingling, introducing him to nearly everyone, that she seemed oblivious to his mood. It was clear she was carefully curating her image for this crowd. Fame was obviously prized here, and Lev had been invited to lend some of his own.

  He wanted to say, Oh nothing, you just made me come to this awful party, and I’ve essentially been arm candy for the last 40 minutes.

  But his PR handler Mirel would probably roast him over an open flame if he did that, and annoyingly, she’d be right. Besides, Livia wasn’t usually this status-obsessed. She just seemed… desperate to impress tonight.

  He could almost hear Mirel’s voice in his head now: “Deflect with grace. You’re not here to be known. You’re here to be remembered correctly.”

  So, he let Mirel win, opted for another explanation, one that didn’t require him to pretend to be happy. “It’s nothing. Just the petitions again, but those seem to be sort of an annual thing at this point.”

  Livia was silent for a moment, processing his words. “Oh, the ones about Kinetic Memorans and sports?”

  “Yep.” The ones about him because there weren’t any other Kinetic Memorans in sports anyway.

  “Do you think they’ll do anything this year?” Livia asked.

  Lev sighed. “I don’t know. I hope not.” He’d already been banned from most of the more skill-oriented individual sports like fencing. He was still allowed to compete; he just wasn’t technically allowed to win.

  This time, people were complaining about team sports. “I won’t say that they don’t have a point, but physical skill is only half of the game. I don’t have any magic abilities to strategize or work with a team. And in basketball, some of the guys are a head taller than me and plenty good. Should they be banned for being too tall?”

  Livia pursed her lips. “I think that’s a little different, Lev.”

  Lev sighed again. She was right. “Maybe, but there are plenty of things I can’t do as a Memoran. Pulsers basically get a constant internal pressure boost. They’re always faster and stronger, even when they aren’t actively channeling. And for all they complain, Luminars have enhanced reflexes and reaction times. Sure, I can move with precision, and my muscle memory is almost superhuman, but that’s not the same as having raw power or the split-second responses needed in team sports.”

  “I mean, petitions about Pulsers have come up before,” Livia pointed out.

  “Yeah, and I can sympathize,” Lev admitted. “But there are enough people arguing against it that they usually get shut down. It’s just frustrating because the Luminars have more of an advantage than they’d ever admit to. I can’t communicate with my team nearly as well without luminance.”

  Livia shifted her weight uneasily.

  “It’s not just that either,” Lev said, waving his hands in frustration. “There are sports I can’t play. It’s not like I could go join a Pulser hockey team. I can’t go take a luminance projection or dance class. I’m not saying that’s wrong, but what does fairness even mean in this circumstance?”

  He didn’t know. He really didn’t know anymore. He wished there were some easy answer, something that worked for everyone, but there just wasn’t. Everyone had their side, and he just wished more people were on his.

  “Sometimes…I don’t know. It’s like, since I’m the only one, I’m an easy target, you know?”

  Livia nodded, but she also glanced to the side as if she didn’t want anyone to see his outburst. This was not why she had brought him; he was ruining her pristine image.

  Lev sighed. He was probably going too far. He hadn’t meant to get into all this. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to throw all that on you.”

  Livia chuckled. “It’s alright. I did ask. I can tell you’ve spent plenty of time thinking about this.”

  Lev grimaced. “Too much. Too many nights.”

  “Well, they’ve sided with you before in team sports. Hopefully, they will again.”

  “Hopefully.”

  With individual sports at least he could still participate if he wanted, but with a team… if they ruled against him, there wasn’t a competitive team on the planet that would let him play. Not when it would disqualify everyone.

  There were plenty of other things his abilities lent themselves to—music, art, his medical studies—but he wanted some sort of choice in the matter!

  “I don’t think ruminating on it will help, so maybe we should change the subject,” Livia said, breezily.

  Lev smiled. “Probably.”

  He wasn’t entirely surprised that Livia wanted to move on. Ruminating might not help, but sometimes you just need to get something off your chest. Livia cared enough to ask, yet she also tended toward vanity, though she usually hid it well. Still, even if she liked him, it probably wasn’t enough to carry his emotional baggage in front of all her polished, status-obsessed cousins.

  Lev scanned the crowd again, searching for the waiter who had been carrying those phenomenal chocolate eclairs. They almost made the party worthwhile.

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  He remembered the crisp bite of sugar shell, the melt of chocolate, the way his jaw shifted as the pastry gave way. The texture, the taste—perfection. And he wasn’t leaving until he’d had at least three more.

  A server caught him looking and held out a tray with champagne flutes. Lev gave a polite smile and shook his head. He didn’t drink, not when he couldn’t afford to slip.

  He kept scanning. A woman in her late twenties waved at him. He glanced back, trying to determine whom she was calling to, but he and Livia had drifted away from the crowd; behind them was nothing but a wall.

  “I’m assuming that woman is waving at you, not me,” he said, nudging Livia and nodding in the direction of the wave.

  Livia turned to look. Judging by her expression, she clearly recognized the woman. She waved back, but Lev caught her muttering a curse under her breath. Livia almost never cursed.

  “Not someone you wanted to see tonight?” Lev asked.

  “Not particularly, no,” Livia replied.

  Lev studied the woman as she weaved around clusters of people and made her way toward them. Everything about her screamed Portilian: old money Portilian.

  The northern portion of the continent had been settled mainly by people from the Portilian mining planets and colonies. Their culture remained distinct even after over two centuries of mingling with other colonizers. This woman certainly had the look and attire of a Portilian. Tall and lean like a runner, she exuded both grace and athleticism. Her long black hair was pulled back in a complex braid that framed her rich, caramel-brown complexion.

  She wore a striking deep purple dress that spoke of Portilian tradition. The skirt was crafted from artfully layered panels, almost like carefully arranged fabric scraps, each overlapping in harmonious detail. Up top, a form-fitting bodice embraced her figure, while flowing sleeves split elegantly at the arm before reuniting at the cuffs, marrying practicality with a refined, time-honored style.

  Technically, Livia was also Portilian, most members of the clans were, but she seemed to prefer a more mainstream wardrobe.

  “Ah, Livia,” the woman exclaimed as she arrived in front of them, kissing both of Livia’s cheeks. “It’s been so long.” Her speech carried a slight lilting flow characteristic of a northern accent.

  “Yes. Much too long,” Livia replied, her voice a little clipped. It was clear she felt this meeting was far too soon.

  The woman turned and gestured toward Lev. “And who is this?”

  Livia forced a smile. “Dionira, this is Lev Tanel,” she said, taking his arm. “Lev, this is Dionira Isabela. She’s a cousin of a sort.”

  Dionira nodded at him as she took a sip of her drink. “You can call me Isi. It’s simpler.”

  “Dionira is from a famous family,” Livia continued, practically ignoring Isi’s interjection. Clearly, the two had some unresolved issues.

  Livia seemed to be waiting for a response, so Lev ventured, “Really?”

  Apparently, that was what Livia wanted, because she went on, “Dionira is a Rafinin, descended straight from Captain Rafinin himself. Can you imagine?”

  Isi winced slightly when Livia called her Dionira. Lev wasn’t sure if the jab was aimed at the Rafinins or at the notion of fame in general, but he didn’t like the angle. It hit too close to home.

  Isi didn’t let Livia’s jab affect the rest of her demeanor. She merely shrugged and said dryly, “Not that the Rafinin name means much at a party like this. Their claim to fame is strictly historical, no wealth to speak of, which isn’t exactly tolerated in this crowd.”

  Livia frowned at Isi, but before tensions could escalate, Lev asked, “So, why are you here in this crowd?”

  Livia jumped back in, a little acidly this time, “Because her mother’s side of the family is practically wealthy enough to be a kingdom in one of those third-era fairy tales. She’s da Silva royalty.”

  Lev found himself wondering what had transpired between them to spark such vitriol. He glanced at Isi, who simply shrugged in confirmation, looking almost bored. Sipping her champagne, she added, “Livia, Matteo was asking about you. He’s out on the balcony. I can entertain your guest while you two talk.”

  Livia stiffened beside him. Lev expected to see annoyance on her face, but instead, it looked more like stress or even fear.

  Without another word, Livia nodded. “Alright. I’ll go talk to him.” With that, she released Lev’s arm and walked off, barely glancing back. This was getting weirder and weirder.

  He turned back to his new companion, uncertain about being left with a girl Livia clearly disliked. “So, who’s Matteo?”

  Isi didn’t look up; she just frowned at her champagne flute. “Unfortunately, he’s my uncle.”

  Why that was unfortunate remained unclear, and Isi didn’t seem inclined to elaborate.

  They stood in silence for a few seconds. The question seemed to have quenched Isi’s desire to speak further, but Lev didn’t like silence, and something strange was going on here. He nudged her gently. “So, famous family, huh?”

  It worked. Isi rolled her eyes but looked up at him. “You, of all people, should know that fame isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Has Livia asked you any real questions tonight?”

  Lev maintained a carefully controlled mask, even though he felt like flinching. He’d had plenty of practice with that; most people who approached him didn’t really care about him in any genuine way. “Define real,” he said with a forced chuckle.

  “Something outside of your sports matches or net show appearances?”

  For a while, Livia hadn’t, but she had been better right before Isi had arrived; however, Isi clearly didn’t think much of Livia, and he wanted her to keep talking. “She did mention music once or twice.”

  Isi rolled her champagne flute between her fingers and regarded him thoughtfully, as if a bit of her usual aloofness had dropped away. “I almost forgot about the music. You're a pianist, right?” she said, gesturing toward a grand piano in an alcove across the room.

  “I play lots of instruments,” he said before he could quite think it through.

  Eesh. That probably came off as egotistical; it had been an automatic response. Instruments tended to be easy with his affinity. Piano was particularly simple since all it took to get a note to sound was pressing a key.

  Isi gave him a long, thoughtful look. “Right. I hadn’t really considered it, but that makes sense. A lot of playing an instrument is muscle memory. Is it just boring then? Practicing?”

  “That’s a good question. Yes and no. There’s still the artistry behind it. Just because you have the patterns or the skill to play a note doesn’t mean you have the skill to put them together in a meaningful way. So, that part is interesting. Plus, muscle strength and endurance don’t come free. I still have to build up strength, grow calluses, whatever it takes. The same goes for sports.”

  “Interesting,” she said, though her detached mask seemed to be returning as she glanced back at the crowd.

  “Really? Or is that just something you say?” Lev prodded, calling her out a little.

  Isi froze for a moment, then smirked and turned to face him. “Livia leaves, and the blazing honesty comes out then?”

  “You seem like someone who appreciates bluntness,” Lev said with a shrug.

  “Perceptive.” Isi smirked. “To answer your question, though, I do think it’s interesting. I think Memorans are fascinating. Your talents work so differently from the rest of ours, even the rest of your family without the strong kinetic memory. Your sister does translations, right? Of ancient Aralin?”

  Lev nodded, surprised that Isi knew anything about Kara.

  “But she didn’t come?” Isi continued. “It seems like she’d fit right in with the archaeological fervor.”

  Lev chuckled. Kara hated these kinds of events, especially when she didn’t know anyone. “I don’t think she was invited. Besides, she doesn’t really like parties with more than ten people.”

  “Ah, I see. And perhaps she has other things keeping her occupied?”

  “She always has something keeping her occupied,” Lev said. Kara always had too much to do—so many things, all the time. They both had a habit of overcommitting themselves.

  “Anything in particular at the moment?” Isi asked.

  “She mentioned something about working with Novem in the future, but I don’t think she’s working on anything right now.”

  “Hmm. Does she usually share such things with you?”

  It was an odd question for a first meeting. “We’re pretty close,” Lev said. Probably the understatement of the century, all things considered.

  Isi sighed, almost as if in resignation. Or maybe disappointment? Had she expected him to have some interesting archaeological tidbit to share with her high-class friends? Was that really what they gossiped about? He could maybe picture Livia doing that, but Isi seemed to resent the high-class nature of the party.

  “Why do you ask?” Lev said.

  Isi shrugged and replied nonchalantly, “No reason. Just wondering if we might have any big news in the future.”

  Her gaze shifted past him, and he turned to see Livia making her way back toward them, a glare fixed on her face. He glanced back at Isi, who looked amused.

  “Well, I’d better make my rounds. Preferably before she gets here,” Isi said with a wave toward Livia. “Enjoy the party,” she called as she disappeared into the crowd.

  Lev was still staring after Isi’s sudden departure when Livia arrived beside him.

  “She left in a hurry,” Livia said a little sourly.

  “Yeah. What’s up between the two of you?”

  Livia stared into the crowd where Isi had vanished. “Let’s just say her family has a lot of leverage, and they can be… nosey.”

  “You didn’t seem particularly happy to talk with her uncle.”

  Livia shrugged. “It’s fine. Meeting with her uncle can just be stressful sometimes. He’s on the da Silva family council, and he’s got a lot of pull. He’s very intense. He just had some questions about a business venture my family is getting into, and I’m the only one from my family here.”

  Lev wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “That sounds… complicated.”

  It sounded like a lot of other things too, but Livia just nodded.

  Lev had never seen Livia rattled like this before. She wasn’t the type to be easily intimidated, but something about this meeting had unsettled her, more than she was letting on. He considered pressing for details, but she clearly wasn’t in the mood to talk about it. Maybe later.

  “Well, all this talking has given me a mad craving for more of those chocolate eclairs. Shall we go track them down?” Lev asked, extending his arm.

  Livia laughed, relief evident on her face. Yes, something was definitely going on here, but it was probably none of his business.

  “Let’s,” she said, taking his arm as he led her toward the balcony.

  As they wove through the crowd, Lev couldn't help but glance over his shoulder toward the spot where Isi had vanished. Something about her questions was still buzzing in the back of his mind, like a song he couldn't quite forget.

  He was used to gossip about himself, but hearing it circle around Kara made his skin prickle. Maybe that was hypocritical. Was he… jealous?

  Lev let out a quiet laugh, and Livia shot him a puzzled look. He just grinned back. No, not jealousy, but there was something possessive in the way the thought curled around his chest. Protective, maybe. Like a dog with his hackles raised when words slid the wrong way. He had the sudden urge to run home and keep Kara in his sights. Yeah. Definitely protective.

  She’d absolutely kick his butt for that. Kara was smart. She could take care of herself. Lev let out a slow breath and tried to let it go.