Clink. Juliana's punch glass tapped gently against the decanter as she refilled it and brought it to her lips, only pretending to take a drink before gently lowering it and glancing lazily around the room. An ice sculpture of the VanderSchee coat of arms was the centerpiece of the hall: directly above it was a huge crystal chandelier tipped with artificial candles. A black velvet banner reading "Happy Birthday Princess Juliana" took up most of the back wall, in front of which a small army of waiters was beginning to set out tables upon tables of appetizers. 

However, like most Order balls, this admittedly splendid party was insufferably boring. Although Juliana was perfectly at home in a hall full of stuffy, overdressed socialites, there were only so many compliments about her dress and halfhearted comments about the pleasant weather that she could handle in a single evening. She fought to maintain her calm, composed front, smiling gently at passers by, as her mind raced with thoughts of the Alpha Box. She anxiously curled her toes in her Crimson Angel boots, which her dress's long train thankfully kept hidden from view. Even though she was ready to suit up in seconds if the need should arise, she felt strangely vulnerable.

"The Box is on the plane, and we're taking off. No sign of Jackers so far." As if in response to her thoughts, Commander Dev's voice echoed through her hidden earpiece, offering her some reassurance.  

"Great." Juliana was careful to keep her reply short so people wouldn't start to wonder why she was talking to herself. Every moment, she was painfully aware of being the center of attention. The parents who pointed her out to their excited children, the people who placed flowers and cards on the already overflowing gift table behind her... she couldn't breathe without being observed. 

"Ah, splendid! Look who we've run into. Happy birthday, Juliana!" One voice began to stick out from the polite murmurs that filled the hall. Juliana turned her head to see Roy approaching. He looked perfectly at ease as he adjusted his black bowtie, but Juliana saw his hand immediately drop to his watch, ready to unleash the weapon at the slightest notice. He was on edge, too. Finally managing to push through the crowd, a blond girl in a conservative black dress stepped timidly to his side. Her doe-like eyes widened at the sight of Juliana and she let out a high-pitched gasp. 

"Princess Juliana! It's an honor, Your Highness." she dipped into a flawless curtsy. From her overdone attempt at formality, Juliana could guess that she wasn't accustomed to attending royal functions. 

"This is Lavinia Moore," Roy gestured to the girl, who immediately looked down at the floor. 

"Lavinia, it's a pleasure," Juliana reached out to shake her hand. Of course. She should've known Roy would never be seen at a royal ball without a date. "Wait... Moore? You wouldn't happen to be related to Kris Moore, the fashion designer?" 

"Oh, yes, my brother the creative genius," Lavinia laughed.

"How wonderful! You must tell him I'm a great fan of his work. I'm actually wearing him tonight," she gestured to her heavy, ruffled red gown cinched at the waist with a strand of tiny diamonds. 

"I should've known- that is totally his style," Lavinia stepped back a few feet to admire the dress. "Bold, yet elegant. Now I know what people mean when they say he was born to dress royalty."

"Hm," Juliana flashed a short smile. Roy, sensing the awkwardness in the air as they ran out of potential conversation topics, immediately jumped in. 

"You know what, Lavinia? I think the King is free," he looked up to the second floor balcony that held the King's private suite. "Would you like to meet him?"

"Oh, yes, that would be incredible," Lavinia nodded excitedly as Roy led her toward the carpeted stairs. 

"She's weird." Juliana heard a whisper coming from behind her almost as soon as Lavinia and Roy were out of earshot. She turned around to see Hayley holding two crystal glasses- one filled with punch and the other with ice cream. Her shapeless sequined dress glittered as she shifted her weight. 

"Well, that's... unusually blunt of you," Juliana frowned. 

"Don't tell me you don't see it. Her nervous laughter, her wide eyes, always hiding behind Roy... no one's that shy. I think she's hiding something." 

"What-" there was nothing that seemed even remotely threatening about tiny, unassuming Lavinia, but she had to respect Hayley's hunch. 

"I'm going to look her up in the database," Hayley pulled out her phone and began to type furiously. 

Juliana almost made a move to stop her but decided against it when she saw the look of concentration on Hayley's face. 

"Look at this!" Hayley grabbed Juliana by the shoulder, shoving her phone in front of her face. 

"Careful- don't look too excited," Juliana said out of the corner of her mouth, noticing that they were already beginning to attract stares. She glanced down at Hayley's phone to see that she had pulled up Kris Moore's page on the Order Database of Arcanese Citizens. 

"Name: Kris Moore. Age: 30. Occupation: fashion designer. Net worth: 3.5 million Arcanese dollars. Family: none living." Hayley hissed out the last two words as discreetly as she could- which was not very discreetly at all. "He did have a younger sister named Lavinia, but she died two years ago. That girl is not Lavinia Moore," she pointed frantically at the stairs. 

Juliana's eyes widened as they traveled up the stairs to her grandfather's suite. "Oh no... that means-" 

"We have a potential hostile alone in a small room with Roy and the King," Hayley gulped. 

Before they could say anything more, the piercing sound of a gunshot echoed through the nearly silent hall. The reaction was almost instantaneous. People screamed and ran uncontrollably for the exit, knocking over tables and even each other in the process. Security guards rushed from their positions at the doors to herd frightened guests out of the hall in some semblance of an orderly manner. 

"It came from up there," Juliana breathed, feeling for her suit's activation button underneath her right glove as she looked up at the King's suite. She sprinted toward the stairs before the guards could reach her, slipping behind a pillar on the first landing to step out of her gown. As her suit finished forming, she wadded the dress up into a ball and stuffed it behind the pillar, unable to think of a more secure location at the moment. 

Her boots thudded on the carpeted floor as she ran toward the suite at breakneck speed, cutting through the locked door with a well-timed laser blast and stumbling through the exposed doorway. When she finally beheld the scene inside, the strength left her legs. She fell to her knees, tears staining the inside of her mask as she touched her forehead to the blood-stained hardwood floor. 

She was too late.