The dinner itself was absolutely delicious: lamb and wine stew, plates of sole accompanied by roasted potatoes and carrots, fowl with picant sauce, and a dazzling display of desserts, from puddings to small cakes. For a while, it was too easy to just be quiet and enjoy the meal—unless you happened to be Thomas Monroe.

Although he sat so close, Charles couldn't seem to get a word in to his father-in-law. Every few seconds, someone new would appear at his side, trying to draw the former battle mage into a conversation. Charles found it tedious to watch every man and woman in high society come up to him, as if stealing a second of his time would cause his power and influence to rub off. Eventually, Charles realized it was best to let him be—he could always congratulate him later in the evening.

Instead, his eyes fell to the man seated to his right, Mister Fox. He seemed perfectly content to eat his meal in silence, but then caught Charles' glance and he quickly dabbed at his mouth with his napkin.

"Sorry, have I got something on my face?"

"No, no," Charles said, feeling a touch embarrassed. "I just realized we haven't met before. I'm Charles Abbot—"

"The memory mage," Mister Fox said with a knowing nod. "And Miss Monroe's fiancée. You're well known, Mister Abbot. And likely wondering what a dusty old bookworm like me is doing at the seat of honor."

It was true that Charles had been wondering the exact thing, but the man's bluntness startled him. Charles started to babble out an excuse when the man shook his head. "No need to be embarrassed, Mister Abbot. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure why I'm seated here either. I think I'm just Thomas' current favorite—I'm sure he cycles through them."

"He does have a point," came a new voice from further down the table. Charles looked up and saw that the comment had come from a man seated across from Juliette. He wore a striking black suit jacket embroidered with hundreds of small golden threads. The lights from the chandelier seemed to bounce off the threads which matched the glimmer in his dark almond eyes.

Before Charles could ask for an introduction, the man gave it himself. "Leland Morgan," he said, and Charles recognized the name: this was the owner of the largest textile mill in the city.

Mister Morgan continued, unabashedly, "Thomas does like to play favorites, although his whims are fickle. What did you find for him, Mister Fox—a really good book?"

Mister Fox smiled back at him. "Several. He's a collector, you know."

"As, yes of course." Mister Morgan sipped from his wine glass. "Well, everyone's eyes are on you, Mister Fox. Look around—these vapid souls all envy your position. You should enjoy the seat of power... while you can."

Charles couldn't quite tell if Mister Morgan was threatening the other man or just being crass. He looked over at Mister Monroe to see if he had overheard the exchange, but he seemed too engrossed in another conversation to have noticed. Thankfully, Mister Fox didn't seem to take Mister Morgan's comments to heart. Perhaps he wasn't used to the games of the rich, but he just smiled and took another contented bite of his chicken, "mmm"ing softly as he did.

"Mister Fox," Charles said, doing his best to turn his back on Mister Morgan, "what sort of books do you sell?"

"Well, all sorts. First edition literature. Historical maps. Spell books. You name it."

"I'm a bit of a collector myself," Charles said, which was partially true; he left out the fact that the books he "collected" were the cheap versions he had been holding onto ever since he had had enough money to afford a book. He had a feeling that despite Mister Fox's plain exterior, he dealt with more lucrative texts. "I'd love to see what you have."

Mister Fox nodded. "Of course. Let's set up a time and I can show you some of my wares later this week."

"Excellent," Charles said, sending Mister Morgan a look. The man made a large show of ignoring him and diving into his meal, which gave Charles the smallest sensation of triumph.

The final course was homemade ice cream, made by none other than the ice mage from Morgenstern's Parlor. He walked down the tables, individually chilling small bowls of cream for anyone who wanted it. Charles was absolutely stuffed by that point, but Juliette was happy to indulge, cheerfully digging into her bowl with as much restraint as a ten-year-old could muster.

Once the ice cream bowls were cleared, the guests slowly stood up and dispersed, starting their after-meal rounds. Charles watched as Henry immediately took James by the elbow. "Mister Abbot," he crooned, "do you mind if I steal you for a moment?"

James flushed, the color clashing brilliantly with his emerald suit. "Not at all," he said, letting himself be drawn away.

Charles wanted to follow them, but Cecilia grabbed his hand, drawing his attention. "I have my role of hostess to fulfill," she said, giving him the smallest of pecks on his cheek. "But I'll meet up with you later. Try to keep yourself entertained in my absence," she whispered, her voice edging into a sultry tone at the end.

Charles grinned. "Will do," he said, and with a mischievous smile, Cecilia disappeared into the crowd.

The others near them at the table had already dispersed, leaving Charles alone with Juliette.

"Where would you like to go?" Charles asked her.

"Is it time for more espionage?" Juliette asked with a toothy grin. "I feel like the Hughes—"

"Shh," Charles said, looking around to ensure no one had heard her. "Let's not discuss anything while we're here. We'll just keep our eyes open. But you're right—there are several possibilities."

"No one's sticking out from the memory?"

"Nope. None, unfortunately." Charles sighed. "Why don't we try to enjoy ourselves for a little bit. Have you seen the garden? It's quite beautiful."

"Sure!"

As Charles started to escort her towards the large glass doors that led outside, he paused. Mister Davis was blocking their way. He hadn't seen them yet—he was chatting with a tall man—but Charles really didn't want to interact with him.

Juliette caught his stumble, followed his line of sight, and grinned. "Oooh. It's that guy from before!"

"Yes, and I still don't have a flying memory for him," Charles said, turning around abruptly. "Let's go another way—"

However, he immediately bumped into a man who had been standing behind him.

"Sorry," Charles mumbled, feeling warmth rise up on his cheeks. But that was when he realized he recognized the man. "Mister Barnes!"

Thaddeus Barnes, the battle mage broker, grinned his toothy smile. Like Juliette, he too seemed to be able to clean himself up for banquets such as these, although he also managed to look out of place.

"Mister Abbot," Mister Barnes said, inclining his head. Then, his eyes fell to Juliette. "And my dear Juliette. Surprised to see you as well. How are you both?"

"Good," Charles said, hoping no one was close enough to hear Barnes using Juliette's real name. "Dinner was wonderful. Very happy to be here to support Silvers Orphanage."

"Of course. A worthy cause, as I'm very well aware of," he said, looking back to Juliette. "How's your thief situation?"

"Neatly wrapped up," Charles said.

Thaddeus chuckled. "Made quick work of her, huh Juliette? I told you, Mister Abbot. My battle mages don't disappoint."

"What is this about battle mages?" came a jovial voice.

Charles flinched when he realized that Mister Monroe had joined the conversation.

"Mister Monroe," Charles said, trying to change the subject, "congratulations on the orphanage wing. Truly, it must be an honor."

"Thank you, Charles," Monroe said with a pleased grin. But then he turned to Thaddeus. "What were you saying about battle mages, Mister Barnes? You know I always enjoy a trip to the arena and it's been too long."

"Actually," Mister Barnes said, a wide grin on his face, "we've acquired a lot of new talent recently. Allow me to introduce you to one of my newest—and youngest—mages: Juliette."

Mister Monroe raised an eyebrow when he took in the young girl in front of him. "Charles, Cecilia had told me... I thought this was your cousin?"

"I... uh..." Charles stammered, wishing he could simultaneously disappear and slap Thaddeus across the face.

But suddenly, Juliette spoke up. "It was meant to be a surprise, sir," Juliette said, for now they were drawing a crowd. "You may not know this, but I lived at Silvers orphanage for many years, until I was adopted by Mister Barnes here. Now, I perform in the arena. And Charles wanted to bring me here, to show to your guests an example of the type of children they are saving when they donate to your cause." She grinned. "Also, I'm a huge fan of yours."

Monroe's eyes lit up. "Really, Charles? That is such a kind surprise." He gestured to the center of the ballroom. "Juliette, would you like to give us all a quick demonstration?"

Juliette's eyes widened. "Yes! I'd be honored!" She rolled up her sleeves and cracked her knuckles, raising her arms above her. Suddenly, there was lightning dancing across the ceiling of the ballroom, crackling and sputtering, accompanied by the sounds of thunder. Soon everyone at the party had gathered, watching the spectacular show.

Charles exhaled, relieved that Juliette's quick-thinking hadn't ruined the evening.

But then he saw that Cecilia had appeared beside him. And instead of her looking up at the display, she was looking at him with her brows furrowed. Immediately, Charles knew something was wrong.

"What's going on?" he asked, taking her hand. "Cecilia, you look upset."

Cecilia kept her lips pressed together for a moment, then, keeping her voice steady, asked, "Can we talk? In the garden, please?"

The way she said it, Charles knew he was in trouble.

Leaving Juliette behind, he followed Cecilia out into the garden. It was dark, but several lamps had been lit throughout, the flames flickering in the light breeze and looking like fireflies. Between the beams of light, Charles could catch glimpses of some of the other dinner guests who had wandered outside. They were winding through the delicate stone pathways, weaving amongst the flowers, and sitting on benches.

Cecilia led him down one of the garden paths. The landscaping was so extensive that Charles was fairly certain he had never been down this particular path before, and that had he wandered down it alone, he would have had a lot of difficulties getting back to the main house. Finally, once they were truly alone, Cecilia paused and looked at him. The hurt was visible in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" Charles asked, worried something terrible had happened.

"Why did you lie to me?" she asked.

Charles paused, at a loss for words. "What?"

Cecilia gestured vaguely in the direction of the house. "The girl. Jessamine—Juliette," she corrected. "You told me she was your cousin."

"I'm sorry," Charles said, digging deeper in Juliette's lie. "It was... it was meant to be a surprise."

"I know you meant to surprise my father," Cecilia said, crossing your arms, "but you could have told me at least. I spent half the night telling people she was your cousin, and apparently she was just a hired mage from the arena? It makes me look like a fool."

Charles took her hands. "I'm sorry, Cecilia. I really didn't mean to lie to you. Things have just been—crazy recently."

"Are you lying about your other 'cousin' too?" Cecilia asked, her voice taking on the tiniest hint of a biting tone. "Is she really at home taking care of her sick mother?"

"That wasn't a lie," Charles said, sticking with the bit of the truth that he could. "Her mother is extremely ill. I wouldn't lie about that."

Cecilia puffed out her cheeks, still looking upset, but finally she sighed. "You've just been distant, love. Ever since that homeless girl attacked you. I thought you just needed time to heal, but the lying..."

Charles took her hand, placing his lips on her delicate flesh. "Cecilia, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

Cecilia looked at him with wary eyes, but then sighed. "All right. I accept your apology. But please, Charles. No more secrets."

"Of course, my love," Charles said, lacing his fingers in hers and giving her another kiss. He hated leaving her out of all of this, but he knew he had to keep a few more things a secret from her—at least for now. After all of this is over, I'll tell you everything, he thought. Once this cult is taken care of and we're safe.

Slowly Cecilia led him out of the garden, resting her head on his shoulder as she did. When they finally emerged from the maze, Charles could see Juliette's display through the large windows leading into the ballroom. Lightning flashed, while an assortment of objects—candles, chairs, violins—flew by, juggled through the air by her magick.

Cecilia let out a small chuckle as she observed the display with him. "I must say, it was a good surprise. The girl is quite impressive. Imagine having a child like that."

He heard the wistfulness in her voice, and he stroked her arm. "One day, we will. Even if he or she isn't a mage, they'll be phenomenal because they'll have you for a mother."

Cecilia blushed, looked around to make sure no one else could see then, then kissed him on the lips. It was a soft, tender kiss, and yet she leaned in a little more at the end, with an urgency that sent Charles' heart racing.

She pulled away, smiled, then said, "Come on, let's go back inside."