Remember – listen, be polite, and stay calm regardless of what they say, Nicholas warns again as we enter a vast hall through a golden archway that towers at least three times my height. I’d like to snap that he’s already told me the same thing at least five times since we left the wing, but I bite it back. The fact is that I’m just as worried as his repeated advice reveals him to be. As the crystal-lit hall opens around us, I lock my fear down – swimming in the water or wrapped in silk, I know sharks when I see them. And fear is just blood in the water for them.

  Before we can actually enter the dining hall itself, we need to wait in this antechamber – mingling. Nicholas indicates that this period before dinner is the main reason the King makes dining in the hall compulsory in the absence of some undeniable excuse. The potential for lower ranked nobles to make contact with higher ranked ones, or with others in search of an alliance is a big part of why so many nobles and their heirs spend significant amounts of time at the palace. I wonder if it’s too cynical to think it’s a money-making scheme to offset the palace’s no-doubt sky-high upkeep. Nicholas did mention that staying here as a Lesser noble means paying through the nose for bed and board.

  There are more nobles here than normal, Nicholas remarks thoughtfully, his face a perfect mask of bored patience despite the mental commentary. The word must have got around that all the Great Houses are in attendance. The portal network must have been busy in the last day.

  I thought that it was expensive to activate a portal? I ask doing my best to keep my curiosity from my face.

  It is. But major cities usually have scheduled portals to the capital on a regular basis. They work a little differently than the one we used and it’s cheaper per person. Like how producing in bulk can be cheaper per item than producing only small quantity? Well worth the price for scavenging nobles looking to cosy up to a more powerful House, Nicholas explains with a flicker of distaste.

  I nod before I manage to catch myself. Damn, it’s hard to undo a habit of reacting openly in a mental conversation.

  So we’re just going to stay here? I ask as the seconds drag by and the crowd’s chatter echoes in the cavernous chamber. Sarran has remained near the wall and we’re just standing in the hall, space around us. I try not to let my eyes linger on the nobles bunched up a little distance away, eyeing us and whispering to each other – probably about us.

  We are, Nicholas answers briefly, then adds after a moment, We are not supplicants. We are exactly where we should be. They will approach us.

  He doesn’t need to explain further – the shift in the surrounding voices signals someone moving towards us.

  Lady Renaye of House Artifice. They rule Sandfall in Ashbourne. The family is known for producing curious, sometimes useful inventions – most famously, the cloudship. They are usually neutral to our House, though we have done good business in the past. They are good allies and poor enemies.

  Cloudship? Like, for travelling in the air?

  Just so, Nicholas agrees. Fragile, ruinously expensive, but unmatched for quick travel to areas not accessible by teleportation. Think of them as glass arrows: they’re beautiful, hit hard and fast – but don’t let them bash into anything.

  There isn’t any time for more discussion as the lady has reached conversation range. She bows briefly before straightening, letting me take her in fully. Her sun-darkened skin is flawless and her black hair is without any grey, but her sharp green eyes indicate that she’s not as young as she first appears. She’s swathed in sandy-coloured silk robes with grey embroidery that depicts tools and machinery. An artificer, eh? I wonder if she could help me make my phone charger…. There might be other ideas I could share with her from Earth too – if she’ll cut me into any profits. Perhaps going into business with her could be another income stream, one that doesn’t depend on Nicholas.

  Something to consider for the future.

  “Lord Nicholas,” she greets, able to give off a cool and commanding presence without raising her voice. “And your heir, at last. Such a surprise. Many of us were starting to wonder if you would ever choose an heir. And to choose one from another world. You must tell me how you managed to do that. Perhaps we could once more go into business again.” She raises her eyebrows gracefully even as her eyes drift over to me.

  Nicholas gives her a courteous nod. “Lady Renaye. It is good to see you again. And what can I say – perhaps the reason I found it so hard to choose my heir was because the best wasn’t to be found on Moriax at all.” Nicholas lifts one hand in an easy, eloquent gesture. “As for how I was able to bring him over, I’m sure you’ve read the available transcripts.”

  Lady Renaye sighs – soft, deliberate.

  “It seems they have not yet been…registered,” she trails off delicately, perhaps hoping that Nicholas would fill in the gaps. When Nicholas doesn’t speak, she takes a different tack. “One can only hope that your new heir is up to the challenges facing him,” she murmurs, looking at me with hooded eyes.

  “I don’t have any concerns on that front,” Nicholas answers indolently. “Markus has already overcome challenges at least as difficult – and come out much stronger.”

  “I am sure that the story is fascinating,” Lady Renaye comments admiringly. “I hear your heir is already throwing the mila in with the ovins.” She chuckles lightly and gives me a conspiratory look. “Don’t you just love it when the unexpected happens?”

  “I’m quite sure few of our peers would agree with you,” Nicholas comments dryly.

  “Ah, but how many of them can claim that the five most used inventions come from their House?” she boasts lightly. “Though perhaps the inventions here pale in comparison to those to be found in your heir’s original world….” She trails off in an obvious hint.

  “Perhaps you could come and visit us. I’d be happy to talk to you about the differences between our world,” I cut in – my first contribution so far. Lady Renaye’s eyes light up even as Nicholas looks at me sharply.

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  Markus, what are you doing? he asks mentally.

  You said that her House makes for good allies. And she’s clearly interested in learning about Earth. You said that your Houses have done business before – maybe this could be an opportunity to do some more. Considering the competition, I would have thought that a House which makes ‘curious, sometimes useful inventions’ might be a good one to have on our side.

  Nicholas is silent for a moment, though I can sense his mind flicking through the possibilities.

  “An excellent idea, Markus. Lady Renaye, would you like to visit us for a cup of tila tomorrow?”

  Lady Renaye shows little, but I catch the faintest flash of satisfaction.

  “I would be honoured.” She bows, a little lower than the first time. “What time?”

  “Shall we say the tenth candlemark?” Nicholas suggests.

  “Perfect. Until tomorrow, Lord Nicholas, Lord Markus.” She bows again briefly and we nod at her, my own slightly more of a bow than Nicholas’. With a swish of silk, she sweeps away into the crowd of nobles. There, within the frequently moving mass, she disappears from view. Those closest to us eye us speculatively.

  Nicholas’ voice draws my attention again.

  It was a good idea to invite her – if we can convert her to our side, it will be a substantial victory, Nicholas tells me. Nonetheless, I would have appreciated you speaking to me about it first. That is what this link is for, no?

  Sure, sorry, I agree, biting my lip briefly before I force myself to stop. I need to remember that I’m no longer the authority in the room – I’ve agreed to become Nicholas’ heir which makes him my lord. And he’s right – the whole point of the Bond is to allow us to speak silently to each other while in a conversation with others. It’s idiotic not to use it.

  We barely have a moment to shift in silence before another figure peels away from the crowd. This time it’s a short and slender man with pale gold hair and what looks like a permanent smirk strides confidently towards us. His ivory robes are trimmed with crimson embroidery in abstract patterns.

  Lord Vellor of House Bloodrage. They rule Cross, in Goldmine’s territory. Don’t be fooled by his apparent small size – they’re known to be berserkers and can be very easy to anger. Watch your words. We have been enemies with their House more often than allies.

  “Lord Titanbend,” Lord Vellor greets smoothly, with a bow just deep enough to be unobjectionable without really showing respect. “And you must be the new heir. Markus, is it?”

  Nicholas inclines his head. “Lord Vellor. How good of you to greet us.”

  “I confess, my curiosity got the better of me. You understand, of course. So rare for an heir to be named so… suddenly. And from beyond our shores, no less. Your arrival has given the bards plenty to sing about.”

  Vellor turns his attention to me, smile still affixed, but something mocking in his eyes.

  “Tell me — is it true you tamed a nunda with nothing but your gaze? Or was it a dragon? I’ve heard conflicting reports.”

  I allow an eyebrow to twitch upward slightly, keeping the rest of my expression neutral. Tucked in the folds of my robe, my hands ball slightly before releasing, taking some of my tension with them.

  “Neither, I’m afraid. But I can boast that I managed to Dominate a mouse at some point. One must never dismiss the worth of those smaller than us, is that not correct, Lord Vellor?” My tone is polite but with a slight mocking edge, mimicking the lord’s. He eyes me with a flicker of respect breaking through. Then he laughs, a big belly sound that seems too big to come from his slight frame.

  “You have claws – I like it. Just so you know, my heir has entered the competition. May the best man win,” he gives me a smile which shows rather more teeth than a normal one would. With a brief bow, he turns and strides back into the mass. I watch carefully as most of the other nobles give Vellor plenty of space. A man who is as large as Vellor is small comes to greet him and the two start what appears to be a jovial conversation.

  Nice guy, I deadpan to Nicholas as the movement of the other nobles continues and blocks my view of Vellor.

  You dealt well with him, Nicholas praises. Then he tenses and I follow his gaze to another figure who’s drifting in from the larger group of nobles with studied casualness. Be even more careful in the next conversation – Lady Ysmera is an incurable gossip. Anything you say to her will be over the room before the bell rings for dinner.

  Lady Ysmera Nymphbay arrives in a mist of perfume and gauzy blue, her unreadable expression sharpened by the glint in her eyes. She bows, barely, and her voice is sweet and faintly mocking. I don’t need Nicholas’ words of caution to know that she’s a threat. The fact that her House is in Rainpoint territory – answering to Lord Torrent, the Great Lord who confronted Nicholas when we arrived – would be enough of a warning.

  “Lord Nicholas. Heir Markus. What a pleasure.”

  We engage in some meaningless smalltalk before she decides to get to what is probably why she came over. Looking carefully unconcerned, she taps her fan against her wrist.

  “The court whispers that your heir called Heir Fell a cur and struck him down in public. Others say he rescued a servant from torture and declared war on House Fell entirely. So difficult to tell what’s true.”

  Nicholas tilts his head. “People will say anything to make the night more entertaining.”

  Her eyes flick to me. “And which tale do you prefer, Heir Titanbend?”

  I meet her gaze evenly and tap my lip thoughtfully to give myself a little more time to think. I’m dismayed to realise that this afternoon’s events have already twisted into such rumours, though I should have expected it. Still, Nicholas warned me to watch my words – agreeing with any interpretation is admitting that it happened at all.

  “I must admit, I find rumours to be such tiresome things to listen to. None tend to be entirely true.” I offer carefully. She pouts – just slightly.

  “But stories are so interesting, do you not agree?”

  “It depends on the story,” I answer, hoping that that is safe enough. “And whether it offers any sort of value.”

  “Some stories can be valuable,” Nicholas agrees. “Those with morals or lessons to be learned. As for rumours, occasionally, they can offer guidance as to which way the water is flowing. Don’t you agree, Lady Ysmera?”

  “Indeed,” she agrees quickly. “Knowing who is in alliance with whom, or who might be considering a match between their heirs…” Her eyes linger on me for a moment. “I wonder, Lord Nicholas, have you considered who might be a good match for your heir?”

  I do my best not to react to the question, but I’m pretty sure that she saw my slight flinch. Marriage, arranged marriage…. I hadn’t considered it; I probably should have.

  You are not arranging my marriage, I warn Nicholas firmly. Promise me now that you won’t even try.

  Certainly not without your agreement or influence, Nicholas agrees easily, relieving me slightly. He continues on to answer Lady Ysmera’s question.

  “It is early days yet,” Nicholas demurs, “though I have heard that House Spellbreaker and House Frost are considering matching their own heirs.” Lady Ysmera’s eyes light up like a match.

  “Really?” she breathes. “Oh, I must go speak to-” Then she catches herself and coughs, dipping a bow again. “Please excuse me, my lords. It has been a delight, but I’m sure there are others vying for your attention.”

  “Of course,” Nicholas answers and I can hear a slight smile in it that doesn’t actually appear on his face.

  Was that rumour real? I ask curiously as Lady Ysmera glides away, her diaphanous robes billowing and her scent trailing like a sea breeze.

  Perhaps, Nicholas responds, smugness curling through the words. Not bad for your first attempt. A bit clumsy, but you didn’t give her anything she can truly use. Just your lack of polish; that, we can fix.

  I try to smile at him, but I’m pretty sure it comes out more as a grimace. This is more exhausting than an actual battle.

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