Octavia plucked her glass of wine from the side table and settled more comfortably in her rose-scented bath before taking a sip. The water was blissfully hot against her skin, and the wine crisp and cool as it settled in her stomach, a contrast that induced pure ecstasy.

Winslet had invited her over for relaxation and pampering ahead of the ball. The palatial estate she shared with Beatrix sat at the north side of the village near the farms. In terms of architecture, it wasn't as grand as the cathedral, but Octavia appreciated the rustic style, with its exposed brick, wooden floors and hand-crafted wooden furniture.

"Gods, I could live like this forever." Winslet said as she stretched a rosy leg up from her bathwater.

Steam clouded the air of the bathhouse, and Octavia had wrapped her hair up tight to stop the moisture from ruining her braids.

"Don't get too comfortable," Beatrix said. "Our carriage arrives in an hour or so." Her face was caked with a slimy green mask that reminded Octavia of the poultices medics used.

"I know. I know." Winslet took her own wine and drained the glass. "There's just something so therapeutic about scalding hot water, don't you think, Octavia?"

"On a freezing day like this, it's absolutely divine." Octavia frowned at her wrinkling fingers. "But I'm terribly pruned, and I'd like to start getting dressed." She got out of her bath and wrapped herself in a fluffy towel.

Beatrix rose from her own bath, her skin flushed pink. "We should get ready as well Winslet." That earned her an indignant groan from her spouse.

Octavia left the Chief Councilor to drag Winslet from the bath and went one room over to the boudoir. Cloud-like carpet cushioned her bare feet Fluffy blue lounges and stools sat under shelves lined with skin creams, oils and perfumes. Their dresses hung near the east wall and her bag sat on the long table next to the hand-carved vanity.

She donned her undergarments before rifling through her bag for her make-up. Then took a seat in front of the vanity and worked on her face, painting her lips a sinful shade of red.

Beatrix and Winslet came in a moment later, the former sitting on a fluffy stool and oiling her skin, while the latter shared the vanity mirror with Octavia to do her own make-up.

A knock came on the room door, and Emily, the estate's attendant poked her head in. Her black hair was swept up into a neat bun but like them, she wasn't fully dressed either. "A package my lady, for Miss Octavia. A young priest came by to deliver it."

Winslet got up and accepted the package before Octavia could – a long wooden box tied with red ribbon with a note fixed to the top. "Thanks, Em."

The attendant nodded and slipped out as quickly as she'd appeared.

"Wonder who this is from." Winslet waved the box in front of Octavia before placing it on the vanity. "It's heavy."

Octavia pulled the note off.

Can't wait to see you at the ball.

~ Sicero

Seeing his slanted, curling scrawl brought a smile to her lips. They'd been seeing more of each other since the incident. Sicero would come by to take her to work, then invite her for supper at the Cathedral before taking her home. Her ankle had gotten better, but not enough to make the long walk to school, so they'd be sharing more carriage rides and meals in the coming weeks.

Winslet snatched the note from her hands, gaze flitting over the paper. "I knew it! I knew! He's so smitten." She jumped up and down like a giddy school girl. "Open the box."

"All right, all right." Octavia slipped off the top and nestled in its velvet interior was a necklace. Gold and rubies winked up at her. She picked up the heavy thing, turning it over in her hands–a gold choker with a fat hanging ruby and smaller ones inset. It reminded her of the gaudy neck pieces desert dwellers liked to wear.

"Well? Put it on."

She held it up to her neck, frowning in the mirror. She'd brought jewelry of her own to compliment her dress and the neck piece was a little flashy for her tastes. Of course a pious man would know nothing about fashion, but it would make him happy to see her in his gift.

Reluctantly, Octavia latched it around her neck, before adjusting the hanging gem. It looked gorgeous on, but how it would look with her dress was another story. After unwrapping her hair, she relinquished the vanity to Winslet and went to slip into her dress.

"Here, let me help you." Beatrix set her body oil aside.

As she pulled on the dress, Beatrix worked the corset strings until it fit snuggly against her. She smoothed the folds in the front, admiring the red lace. The skirt fell long enough to hide her feet, but short enough not to trip her. Claud was some kind of cloth sorcerer. He'd even given her pockets, which hid beautifully within the skirt's folds. She'd tucked her bell and rose bud necklace into one of them earlier.

Winslet wolf-whistled from across the room. "Wait until Sicero sees you in that. Ah, he's going to die."

Another knock came on the door and Emily poked her head in again. "The carriage is here."

Beatrix swore out loud. "My hair! It's a mess, and I still need to do my make-up." She went to the vanity and grabbed a brush. "Dear gods we'll be late."

"Calm down. I'll take care of it." Winslet got up and offered Beatrix the chair.

The room erupted in a flurry of activity as they helped each other get ready. Winslet fixed Beatrix's hair and make-up and Octavia helped both of them into their dresses. They slipped into their shoes and hurried downstairs. Emily had their cloaks laid out in the living room and they threw them on before braving the cold to the waiting carriage.

During the ride, Octavia went over everything she needed to accomplish at the ball. First, the ensemble. She'd worked with the both individually and as a group, made adjustments here and there so they wouldn't be overwhelmed. They weren't as perfect as she wanted them, but good enough to wow a crowd of non-musicians.

Then there was the task of investigating the other villagers. Now may be her only chance to find who was hiding the nightwalker. And if everyone attended the ball like Beatrix said, then the culprit would be there. In plain sight.

Some time later, they pulled in front of the Cathedral where more carriages were lined off. Villagers dressed in extravagant dresses and suits hopped out, dashing through the gentle twirling flurries that fell from the overcast sky and disappearing into the building.

When their carriage reached they entrance they rushed out into the vestibule. It was empty save for the racks lined of where various coats and cloaks hung. A path of fake snowflakes led up the double doors at the top of the main staircase. They were thrown open and the sounds of merriment drifted into the vestibule.

"There you are!" Councilwoman Diann rushed from the other side of the room. She gave Octavia a glance that one might give a buzzing pestilence.

"Excuse me." Octavia left them to their Council talk and took the steps up to the ballroom. The sounds of laughter and gaiety swallowed her as she emerged on the ballroom's upper circle. Strings of crystal that sparkled in the light hung from the ceiling, along with white and light blue drapery. Beyond the crowd of people littering the polished marble floor was a stage decorated with hanging lights and sparkling confetti. Servers were walking through the crowd below with trays of refreshments and wine.

Some people sat in the small arrangements set up between the pillars that lined either side of the room. Once again, Octavia stood in awe of the architecture, from the stained glass windows to the ribbed vaults on the ceiling.

She laid one hand on the banister and used the other to hoist the hem of her dress. The last thing she wanted was to make her entrance an embarrassing fall in front of the whole village. She took the steps slow and easy. Small spasms of pain plagued her ankle, but nothing she couldn't handle.

She exhaled a sigh when she finally touched down on the polished stone floor. A server came right away to offer her a glass of wine, which she declined. Enough of it was already in her system and she'd need all her sensibilities tonight.

While for everyone else the winter ball was a celebration, for Octavia it was an opportunity to hunt for clues concerning the whereabouts of the nightwalker. Every citizen of Hedalda was present, and every citizen would be subject to scrutiny.

"A rose by any other name."

Something landed in her hair and she startled, whirling around. Claud stood behind her, dressed in a smart, black suit. He held up a small mirror to show her the cloth rose he'd stuck in her bun.

"Don't scare me like that." Octavia placed a hand over her still racing heart.

"Apologies." The clothier appraised her ensemble, eyes landing on the choker at her neck. "I told the High Priest that gaudy garbage would go terrible with the dress, but I see you're more afraid to hurt his feelings than I am." He looped an arm around her and they walked the room.

Octavia adjusted her skirt and noticed his bare toes peeking out from the hem of his pants. "Why are you barefooted?"

"This is my house. I'll walk around here naked and dare someone to say something. Now listen. I've already made several rounds of the room, spoken to everyone here. I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but no one seems the least bit suspicious."

"Now you know my pain." As she looked around at the smiling faces of the villagers, it was hard to believe one of them was responsible for the recurring scourge.

"Perhaps we could sneak out of here and raid everyone's houses."

"I'm not trying to be dragged before the Council a second time Claud."

"Miss Octavia!" The sounds of tiny footfalls sounded to her left as Tallis, Lyra and Arietta converged on her, flute cases in hand.

"Wow, you look so pretty," Lyra said.

Octavia smiled. "Thank you. You all look amazing as well. A little prince and two princesses."

"When will we get to play?" Arietta asked. She was a little pale and her eyes were shadowed, but she seemed to be in good spirits.

"Beatrix will announce you. So remember to line up when she goes on stage. You guys are the grand opening so do your best."

Tallis looked at his toes, his shoulders hunching. "I'm not sure if I can play in front of everyone."

Octavia nodded. A little stage fright wasn't uncommon for young musicians. "I understand, but I'll be there, right in front of the stage. So just pretend we're in class practicing. Forget everyone else."

"I think I can do that." He squared his shoulders.

"That's our little man." Claud poked Tallis in the head.

"I'm not little," he huffed, swatting at the clothier's hand.

Octavia chuckled. "Stay close to the stage you three. I'll come up front when it's time for you to perform." She made a lap around the room with Claud, scanning every face, recalling every name that went with them, formulating her plan of attack. "I should start with those who I've spoken with the least. The ones with older children or none. Save for Lyle's parents. I see them—"

"There you are." Winslet came through the crowd. "Beatrix is about to kick us off the festivities. Are the children ready?" The Chief Councilor climbed the steps to the stage, a small bell in hand.

Octavia scanned the crowd and spotted Tallis, Lyra and Arietta flanking the stage right. "They're right there." Her shoulders relaxed in relief and she weaved through the crowd to the front, dragging Claud behind her. The extra lights forced her to squint, and she hoped they wouldn't overwhelm the children.

Beatrix took center stage and rang her bell to silence the crowd. "Good evening everyone. Allow me to welcome you all to our annual celebration of life and togetherness. The Winter Ball has been a part of Hedaldan tradition since this village was established over five hundred years ago. I'm happy to see you all here, Hedaldans new and old. As you all know, we recently welcomed Miss Octavia to our humble village, and she has been a blessing, working diligently with the children, turning them into well-rounded musicians. Now it's time to see the fruits of her labour. Enjoy."

Beatrix came down from the stage and was replaced by Tallis, Lyra and Arietta. Octavia raised a hand to get their focus on her, then nodded for them to start.

The soft notes filled the quiet ballroom, their melancholy tune hanging in the air. The song was played in a smooth legato with natural pauses that enhanced rather than broke its flow.

Octavia kept giving the children nods and smiles of encouragement as they played. When the last note of the song rang out, the crowd erupted into a thunderous cheer. Applause mixed with whoops and whistles. She nodded her head to tell the children to take their bows, like every great musician should.

They started walking off the stage, but Arietta stalled. She teetered to one side, hand reaching for something. Octavia ran and vaulted up the front, ignoring the sharp protest from her ankle. But she wasn't fast enough to stop Arietta's fall. The child hit the stage with a savage smack that reverberated through the room.

"Medic!" someone called.

Octavia knelt at the Arietta's side, brushed the loose tendrils of hair from her face. Her skin was clammy and her eyes hooded. "Arietta, talk to me." She took the girl's icy hands between her own to warm them.

The child released a pained moan but nothing more.

"Get away from her!" Arietta's father stormed onto the stage.

Octavia flinched at the harsh command, but didn't budge. "I was only trying to—"

"Trying to what? Make her worse than she already is? You've done enough. Now get away from my daughter." His words sliced into her, sure and sharp as a blade.

"Stop." Arietta's voice was small, but still loud enough to silence them. Tears stained her face and her bony hands were fisted at her sides. "Stop yelling at Miss Octavia."

Octavia shook her head, feeling as though someone had slammed a knife into her heart. "It's okay. You just focus on getting better." She stood and left the stage, grabbing a glass of wine from the nearest tray. Forget being in her right mind; she needed this drink.

The medics took Arietta from the stage and the ball resumed, albeit in a little less happy spirits. Octavia took a seat in the far corner of the room and sipped her wine. At least the children had played well. She wished she could check on Arietta, but with her father's attitude, it would be best to keep her distance.

For now, she needed to needed to get herself leveled enough to go out there and engage with the villagers. Her foot gave her grief, a small pang of pain pulsing through it in rhythm with her heartbeat.

"May I sit?" a musical voice graced Octavia's ear.

She looked up at Sicero and smiled, appraising his dapper white suit. Thankfully, he hadn't died like Winslet predicted. "Of course."

He took the vacant spot next to her and slouched in his seat, closing his eyes for a moment. "I saw when you came in, but I've been busy making sure everything is running smoothly. The children played beautifully."

"They did me proud." She smiled, but no happiness lurked behind it.

"I'm sorry about what happened with Arietta's father. Even after I spoke with him, he was adamant about her not playing. It took a lot of convincing for her to be here tonight."

Octavia pressed the wineglass against her temple, the chill of it shocking her skin. Was it worth it? Was Arietta's health worth a few minutes of fame in front of the village?

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure Arietta was happy to play tonight, and that's what matters." He took her hand and gave it a light squeeze, then nodded towards the necklace. "It suits you."

She touched the hanging gem. "Thanks. I believe Claud thinks it's stealing the shine from his work, though."

"He'll get over himself eventually," Sicero said with a snort. "How are you enjoying the ball so far?"

"I love it. It's a nice change of pace from the quietness of this place. I actually wanted to talk to more of the villagers. I feel like I only ever have brief conversations with everyone." And she still had to find out who was hiding the nightwalker.

"Wait a bit. Beatrix is going to announce the start of the play soon so everyone will be at the stage." Sicero waved a server over and took their whole tray of tiny meat pies.

Octavia looked out into the crowd, spotting Claud speaking with the butcher. He seemed to have everything under control. It wouldn't hurt to rest her foot for a little while. And sit in pleasant company.