Tolners motioned, as if to take hold of Alucard’s sleeve, and found himself propelled suddenly backward into the wall. Alucard never took his hands from his pockets, and his smile never wavered as he said, “I’m sure I can find my way.”

He set off in the direction of the stairs, but as he passed Kell, the latter caught his elbow. “Do you remember what I told you, before banishing you from this city?”

“Vaguely. Your threats all seem to run together.”

“I said,” snarled Kell through clenched teeth, “that if you break my brother’s heart a second time, I will cut yours out. I stand by that promise, Alucard.”

“Still fond of growling, aren’t you, Kell? Ever the loyal dog, nipping at heels. Maybe one day you’ll actually bite.” With that he pulled free and strode away, his silver blue cloak billowing behind him.

Kell watched him go.

The moment Alucard was out of sight, he slammed his fist into the wall, hard enough to crack the inlaid wooden panel. He swore in pain and frustration, and an echoing curse came from within Rhy’s chambers, but this time, Kell didn’t feel bad for causing his brother a little pain. Blood stained his palm where his nails had sliced into the skin, and Kell pressed it to the broken decoration.

“As Sora,” he muttered. Unbreak.

The crack in the wood began to withdraw, the pieces of wood blending back together. He kept his hand there, trying to loosen the knot in his chest.

“Master Kell …” started Vis.

“What?” he snapped, spinning on the guards. The air in the hall churned around him. The floorboards trembled. The men looked pale. “If you see that man near Rhy’s rooms again, arrest him.”

Kell took a steadying breath, and was reaching for the prince’s door when it swung inward to reveal Rhy, settling the gold band atop his head. When he saw the gathering of guards, and Kell at their center, he cocked his head.

“What?” he said. “I’m not that late.” Before anyone else could speak, Rhy set off down the hall. “Don’t just stand there, Kell,” he called back. “We have a party to host.”

* * *

“You’re in a mood,” said the prince as they passed into the dignified splendor of the Rose Hall.

Kell said nothing, trying to salvage the man he’d seen earlier in his bedroom mirror. He scanned the hall, his attention snagging almost instantly on Alucard Emery, who stood socializing with a group of magicians.

“Honestly, Kell,” chided Rhy, “if looks could kill.”

“Maybe looks can’t,” he said, flexing his fingers.

Rhy smiled and nodded his head at a cluster of guests. “You knew he was coming,” he said through set teeth.

“I didn’t realize you’d be giving him such an intimate welcome,” snapped Kell in return. “How could you be so foolish—”

“I didn’t invite him in—”

“—after everything that’s happened.”

“Enough,” hissed the prince, loud enough to turn the nearest heads.

Kell would have shrunk from the attention, but Rhy spread his arms, embracing it.

“Father,” he called across the hall, “if I may do the honors.”

King Maxim lifted his glass in reply, and Rhy stepped lithely up onto the nearest stone planter, and the gathering fell quiet.

“Avan!” he said, voice echoing through the hall. “Glad’ach. Sasors,” he added to the guests from Vesk and Faro. “I am Prince Rhy Maresh,” he continued, slipping back into Arnesian. “Maxim and Emira, the illustrious king and queen of Ames, my father and mother, have given me the honor of hosting this tournament. And it is an honor.” He lifted a hand, and a wave of royal servants appeared, carrying trays laden with crystal goblets, candied fruits, smoked meat, and a dozen other delicacies. “Tomorrow you shall be introduced as champions. Tonight, I ask you to enjoy yourselves as honored guests and friends. Drink, feast, and claim your sigil. In the morning, the Games begin!”

Rhy bowed, and the crowd of gathered magicians and royals applauded as he hopped down from his perch. The tide of people shifted, some toward the banquets, others toward the banner tables.

“Impressive,” observed Kell.

“Come on,” said Rhy without meeting his eye. “One of us needs a drink.”

* * *

“Stop.”

Lila had just started up the palace steps, the demon’s mask beneath her arm, when she heard the order.

She stiffened, her fingers reaching reflexively for the knife at her back as a pair of guards in gleaming armor blocked her path. Her pulse pounded, urging her to fight or flee, but Lila forced herself to hold her ground. They weren’t drawing weapons.

“I’m here for the Banner Night,” she said, drawing Elsor’s royal verification from her coat. “I was told to report to the palace.”

“You want the Rose Hall,” explained the first guard, as if Lila had a damn clue where that was. The other guard pointed at a second, smaller set of stairs. Lila had never noticed the other entrances to the palace—there were two, flanking the main steps, and both were tame by comparison—but now that they’d been pointed out, the flow of traffic up and around those steps compared to the empty grand entrance was obvious. As was the fact that the doors to the Rose Hall had been flung open, while the palace’s main entrance was firmly shut.

“Solase,” she said, shaking her head. “I must be more nervous than I thought.” The guards smiled.