“I’m not made of stone. Any man would’ve done the same,” Erich replied.
“You’re surprisingly optimistic; I’ve seen little good in men.”
“Shh, do you want to get us both killed?”
A quick survey of their surroundings indicated no one had heard. Much like the Sundland courtiers, they were too absorbed in their own petty ambitions to notice much beyond their own noses, unless it benefited them.
“Nervous?” Fritz teased.
“Did I risk my neck just so you could taunt me?” He hadn’t asked the elf what he’d come for, and he didn’t want to know.
“That was an added benefit.” With a pat on Erich’s shoulder, he melted back into the crowd.
A passing servant offered Erich a glass of wine, and he took it, sipping on the too-sweet vintage. Stalking the perimeter of the dance floor, he watched the empress and emperor consort as they danced, the Golden Blade glittering at her hip. Empress Eveline, the first Empress of Neolyra, the great reformer, who overturned a centuries-old rule forbidding women from roles in the military and government. Erich was a babe in the nursery when she claimed her throne by blood and magic. But he’d heard tales of her all his life. Throughout the Neolyrian Empire, she was their goddess Cyra’s avatar, made in her image and sent to save the empire from darkness.
According to Father, she’d manipulated the people, using their faith against them, to centralize power between the empire and the church. Though, by his very nature, Erich did not like the Church of Sol for their stance on corrupted, he did not see what the empress had done wrong compared to someone like Father, whose people suffered under his tyrannical rule. He’d traveled to many provinces throughout the empire, and everywhere flourished. Erich suspected Father’s thoughts were born of jealousy, because his ambitions of grandeur were stymied by the might of Neolyra.
Erich shook his head and turned his attention away from politics. None of that mattered to him anymore. As he weaved his way through the crowd, seeking Ivar once more, the gooseflesh on his arm raised at a prickle of magic in the air. Glancing up, he met the golden-veiled stare of the Avatheos, the head of the Church of Sol. According to them, the Avatheos’ light magic was the antithesis to his dark corruption, and they’d made it their goal to eradicate people like Erich from existence. Sounds faded away, and his vision focused on glowing light that haloed the Avatheos. A sound whispered against his ear, growing louder until it thundered, roaring in his skull.
Someone grasped his shoulder, and Erich jerked backward, expecting to see someone from the Midnight Guard arriving to arrest him.
“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you...” Ivar’s frowning mouth was oddly juxtaposed with the bulbous eyes of his frog mask.
Sounds rushed in as revelers moved between Erich and the Avatheos, blocking him from view. The prickle of magic faded but left a sour taste on his tongue.
“You’re forgiven,” Erich said before gulping down the rest of his wine to wash away the taste.
“Where’s your friend?”
“You promised not to ask.” Erich tutted, resisting the urge to seek out Fritz from the crowd.
“Indeed, I did. And I believe you made a promise to me as well.” He stepped aside, revealing Greta.
Her feathered peacock mask made her blue eyes appear wider and more childlike. He hoped Ivar was right, and tonight he introduced her to a more suitable partner.
“Shall we?” Erich offered her his bent arm.
The orchestra started a new waltz, a familiar tune that transported him back to forgotten days. For a moment, Erich stood transfixed, listening to the notes back at Lord Endland’s manor during the solstice. Boughs of wintergreen perfumed the air, and the wine flowed freely as the laughter of his household echoed to the rafters.
Greta grabbed ahold of him, bringing him back to the present as she urged him onto the dance floor. They took positions across from one another, and men and women who made up rows on each side took turns twirling down the center aisle. Empress Eveline promenaded first, hands interlinked with her husband, and rosy-cheeked. Not far behind them, he noticed Fritz opposite a young court lady, but his eyes were trained on the empress with a strange hunger gleaming in his dark gaze. What was he doing?
“You know I’ve been thinking,” Greta said as they joined in the center for their turn.
The war between the elves and the Neolyrian Empire was legendary. It was Empress Eveline’s father, the former emperor, who’d driven the last of them into the feral lands. Had Fritz used him to get close enough to assassinate her? Not that he cared who ruled over Neolyra, but it was bad enough to be linked to an elf. A would-be killer meant a death sentence for not only him but Greta and Ivar, who brought him here.
“Are you listening?” Greta fumed.
“What’s that?” Erich asked as they linked arms to promenade down the line.
He’d lost sight of Fritz in the crowd, but he could clearly see the empress at the front of the line laughing and clapping in tune with the music. Then he spotted him at the empress’ shoulder.
“You said that you couldn’t take a wife. But many priests keep a monk...”Greta said.
Erich’s head jerked toward her, noticing her for the first time as they, too, reached the end of the line. He had to get her away before it was too late.
“Shall we get some refreshments?” Erich asked; pressing a hand to her lower back, he guided her off the dance floor.
“The song isn’t over; I wanted to dance longer,” Greta pouted, trying to pull away and go back to the dance floor.
