“If you are satisfied, my lady?” At Luscia’s nod, Mila shifted to help Luscia step into her beaded, upturned slippers. They were beautifully useless but, alas, one did not wear battered boots to dine with a king.

A soft knock rapped against her door, followed by a respectful, “It’s time, Ana’Sere.”

Luscia stood and rested a hand upon the ancient, oversized handle of her bedroom door. Out of habit, the other felt to ensure the collar of her dress rose high enough to conceal the textured scar running the landscape of her neck. Confident it was hidden under the layer of sterling linsilk, etched in a brocade of cream and copper, Luscia strode anxiously into the common room to join her Najjan.

From the moment the enormous, ornate bronze doors opened to admit Luscia and her men into Thoarne Hall, lush fields of color filled her vision.

Though darkness hung outside the soaring windows positioned around the opulent space, the hall was flooded with warm, golden light. An overabundance of shining, metallic lanterns created an inviting ambiance for the assembly of bodies, dressed in only the most exquisite silks and satins. Their laughter melted into the rhapsodic melody being played on a dais at the center of the room, like a jewel-toned meadow full of chimes in a windstorm.

“The Lady Luscia Darragh Tiergan, al’Haidren to the House of Boreal,” a stout herald announced as Declan, Luscia, and her wary lycran stepped onto the polished floors of marbled ebony.

To her surprise, only the nearest grouping glanced up at their entrance, but those who did immediately whispered to neighboring guests. Hushed snickers emitted from a cluster of Unitarian women as they appraised Luscia, each of them wrapped in gauzy layers of sparkling taffeta. She ignored them. Through her periphery, she instead watched Marek, Noxolo, and the twins pass into the hall once another noble was announced and seamlessly disappear into the crowded space.

Her lips twitched with Boreali pride.

Within minutes her four Najjan were concealed in the shadows, just as they’d strategized. Declan, the burliest of the five, remained nearest Luscia while the others assessed the many foreign variables from a hidden distance.

Ahead, a ripple quaked through a throng of nobles. As they parted, a tall, middle-aged man strode excitedly toward her with open arms. She instantly recognized King Korbin Thoarne by the byrnnzite crown encircling his head, which integrated the same pointed, bulbous shape of the domed cupolas adorning the palace. Though even without the crown, Luscia would’ve easily identified him by his vast, renowned smile. It stretched welcomingly across a face the summery hue of agost honey.

She and Declan both lowered themselves into a bow at his approach, bowing their heads.

“Nonsense!” the King of Orynthia exclaimed at their descent. “Up, up!”

Rising, Luscia saw he was not alone. Dmitri and two others chased the king’s path through the gathering guests.

“Just wonderful!” King Korbin joyfully declared as he clutched her wrists. “Luscia Darragh Tiergan, here at last! We’ve waited for you for some time, you know. So many years, they hid you away from us. Why, I was beginning to think Alora’s niece was one of those mystery-baubles in the market…Oh, my!” He flinched when, at his prolonged contact, Aksel’s ears drew back and exposed his oversized canines. “Is that really an Orallach wolx in my hall? Or should I say, a lycran? How extraordinary!”

Luscia collected herself when the king suddenly let go of her wrists to study the beast. Declan, also taken aback by the man’s enthusiasm, dutifully stood to the side while they conversed. She caught Declan’s tight smile. People did not usually touch Luscia so abruptly—not anymore.

“Allöh’jomn’yeh, Your Majesty.” Luscia greeted him properly, with a blessing of peace. “I, too, have impatiently awaited my own Ascension. Boreal sends her thanks and, with it, the hope that—”

“Dmitri!” The king’s thick, greying hair rustled as he tried to locate his son. His grin, seated in a trim beard more silver than not, grew even larger when he did. “Dmitri, my boy! Our guest of honor is here to celebrate with us, and she’s brought a wolx! Isn’t it splendid?” The king bellowed and forcefully clapped his son on the back, forcing Dmitri to use his cane to regain his balance.

While the ornamental walking cane was in his hand, Luscia noted the prince wasn’t actually relying on it. Her thumb rubbed the underside of her healed index finger.

Curious.

“Yes, Father, we’re all very pleased.” An identical grin emerged as Dmitri watched his father inspect the lycran’s voluminous tail. “Luscia, allow me to reintroduce your counterparts. It has been quite some time,” he said with a chuckle. “Please meet Ira Hastings, the Earl of Arune and my al’Haidren to Bastiion.”

Dmitri moved back and gestured to a slender yancy, a few years older than Luscia. Four years, if she recalled correctly. An impish, citrine gaze skimmed her form, taking an inventory of her assets. From her northern slippers to the curve of her hips, the small of her waist, over the shape of her torso and to the bow of her lips his eyes traveled, eventually lingering on her own.

“Oh, I assure you, Lady Boreal, that we are very pleased indeed,” Ira Hastings crooned, as if his visual undressing hadn’t said enough.

Luscia gathered from his overconfident smirk that the al’Haidren to Bastiion was not accustomed to unrequited flirtation. Unsurprising, considering the way his olive skin emphasized the copper undertones in his deep mahogany hair, cut just short of his chin. Yet as he tucked it behind one ear, Luscia interpreted the fresh constellation of reddening marks on the base of his neck to mean one thing.

It was highly probable that, like diseased migratory birds, Ira Hastings was carrying more than his own feathers.

“In fact, if you’d like to see the Unitarian countryside, I would be more than willing to give you a…private tour of the Province of Wendylle.” He winked.

Luscia doubted a tour with Ira Hastings would actually involve the countryside.

“I’m sure you would, and I thank you for the kind offer. But I believe Bastiion Proper is adventure enough for now,” she declined diplomatically.

Luscia was rescued from the al’Haidren’s next offer when the king tore himself away from examining Aksel and stood upright.

“Excuse me, everyone. It seems some members of the Peerage have cornered my wife again. Lourissa cannot stand those old buffoons, and if I don’t go now, I’ll never hear the end of it,” he griped. King Korbin snapped his fingers in the air and retrieved a beverage delivered by a nearby attendant. “I’ll need a drink for this endeavor,” he confessed, leaning into their makeshift circle. By the sweet tinge of his breath, Luscia could tell it was not his first of the evening.

Dmitri cleared his throat while his father stormed across the hall to a group of elderly men. The aging politicians huddled around a stunning woman, who looked remarkably like her son.