The voices gathered in the thick, dry air and mingled with each other as she spooled them towards her on a light breeze of wind. They tickled as they reached the outer curve of her ears.
She heard the voices of the men standing closer to the glass doors leading into the small, but stately gardens of the manor. And those of the women across the ballroom who held glasses of bubbling liquid as they stood by the large tables laden with pastries and drinks.
"May I take your cloak, miss?" A servant with downturned eyes extended a hand towards her as she quickly shrugged off the light, silken fabric and reluctantly handed it over. It was one of the few extravagant things Rae owned. A favor from Malakai reserved for use during such occasions.
"Messer?" The servant turned to her escort, Bedyr, who was nearly unrecognizable in his current attire. His wooden peg leg concealed by well tailored pants and shiny boots; another favor from Malakai. As the servant shuffled away, Bedyr offered his arm to her.
"Wipe that sour look from your face or you'll ruin the entire night for us," Bedyr grunted at her under his breath. She grumbled, but schooled her features into a look of awe, easily managing the mask of a downtrodden merchant's niece given a glimpse into the high society of the Kingdom of Torgovets.
Bedyr and her walked forward into the ballroom at a much slower pace than she'd have liked, to mask his limp, allowing the nobles to look more than their fill. She sent a small current of wind his way to ease the limp further. The pair of them already stood out quite enough being the newcomers they were. Lord Perlan's special guests for the evening. The last thing they needed was to explain how a supposedly lowly merchant from rural Torgovets had lost his right leg.
He glanced her way, his small brown eyes softening as he mumbled a gruff thanks. She nodded and continued to survey Perlan's manor.
The ballroom was simple but ornate. The white marble columns arranged neatly about the room held up shadowed balconies that overlooked the grand space in the center that was clearly meant for dancing. It seemed, however, that most of the guests preferred common chatter to dancing this evening.
She glanced up to the balconies, directing her wind there. An invisible lasso wrangled the words of the shadowed figures and carried them back to her. She sifted through the voices before settling on one conversation.
"Lord Perlan, forgive me for saying so, but are you certain you should sully yourself with those who are lesser. Especially now that we—,"
"I've heard quite enough from you, Olfared. We will meet with the Mires family and I will make my decision then," a deep, gravelly voice said. Lord Perlan was in the balconies, then.
A moment passed with no response, save for the small pulse of air of an exasperated sigh. And then the nasally voice from before spoke again. "Of course, my lord."
Rae leaned in towards Bedyr as they made it to the tables with food and drink that lay mostly untouched. The blatant waste left a bitter taste on her tongue as she whispered, "Lord Perlan is upstairs. The fourth balcony from the main stairwell."
"Excellent. Don't make any trouble and I'll find you when I'm finished. Stay close," he whispered back before turning to face her fully and then said louder, "I have business to attend to Nicolette. Will you be alright if I leave you here?"
Rae made a show of fidgeting with the deep rose sleeves of her velvet dress and glancing about towards the nobles nearest them, pretending they weren't listening. "Yes, I think so, uncle," she said, keeping her voice meek and small. As if on cue, one of the young nobles sauntered their way.
"Good evening Messer. Miss," a young man said, dressed finely in a coat of dark blue brocade. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Dorn Perlan." He inclined his head to them.
"Lord Dorn, a pleasure to meet you. Varyn Mires, at your service," Bedyr replied, bowing before he waved in my direction. "And this is my niece, Nicolette Mires." Rae dipped into a curtsy.
The young lord turned back to Bedyr. "Messer Mires, I do believe my uncle and you have been engaging in negotiations. He will be most pleased to hear of your arrival," he said, the unhurried drawl of his words an indication of entitlement only achieved after spending years surrounded by wealth.
"Yes, my lord. I was hoping to gain an audience with him, but—" Bedyr trailed off, his large hand suddenly cradling a dainty glass filled with dark liquid. She hadn't even noticed him swipe the drink. But then again, Bedyr's lips were never dry if he could help it.
"I'd be happy to keep your niece company," the young lord interrupted.
Of course, he would. As if she needed keeping.
"Thank you, Lord Dorn, " Bedyr said bowing again, before turning in her direction. "Don't have too much fun, Nicolette dearest." His dark brown eyes narrowed slightly in warning. Right she was supposed to be keeping her hands to herself. No stealing trinkets. Tonight, they had bigger plans.
As Bedyr's slightly rounded midsection disappeared around a thick, marble column, Rae's eyes drifted to the golden-brown haired lord at her side. She found his eyes trailing the outline of her figure, which was barely left to the imagination, despite the long-sleeves and modest neckline of her dress. The dark rose gown hugged her from her breasts down to her hips, where the thick material hung loose and pooled at her feet. A matching sheer veil was pinned at the crown of her head and draped over the long, dark waves of her hair in the fashion of western Torgovetian nobility.
"My uncle tells me you're family is from the South?" the young lord spoke from beside her, his voice shattering the stream of wind that had been feeding her conversations from across the room.
"Yes, my lord. My family hails from Noebah," she lied smoothly, remembering her role as she met his dark eyes with her gold. "I've never seen such a grand gathering before."
She was to be the niece of a disgraced merchant from a small province to the South, looking to make allies and trading agreements with minor lords. Like Lord Perlan. A lord of Torgovets' Western province of Yerba. Lord Perlan specialized in the Mazaarian lumber trade and distribution for much of Western Torgovets. Not as wealthy as some other successful merchants in Torgovets, but wealthy enough.
"I'd imagine so," he said. "What's Noebah like? I've never traveled South myself."
"Not so different from Yerba, my lord. Except warmer without the sea breeze," she mindlessly replied. Her eyes skipped over the room, cataloging the entrances and guards stationed inside and outside on the terrace to the gardens.
Her gaze shifted to the nobles flittering about the ballroom. Their clothing was as exorbitant as the ballroom's décor, the men were draped in long, intricately engraved coats of varying colors and materials. Women wore flowing gowns with long trains much like her own. But where the nobles were adorned with jewels and gemstones, Rae kept her accessories simple. Nothing save for the Sithium crystal dagger hidden beneath the wide-sleeves of her gown.
"Do you miss home often, Miss?" the young lord asked, clearly keen on keeping their conversation going.
She couldn't exactly be rude to the nephew of the Lord they needed to fool. She turned to face the young lord fully, taking in his boyish features. "All the time," she answered honestly. The ache was impossible to forget. But Noebah wasn't home for Rae. Neither was Alkisar for that matter. "Have you traveled much outside of Yerba, my lord?"
"Mostly to Tiras for my schooling. Although I accompanied my father on a trip to Argyre once to oversee a lumber shipment. Have you ever been to Tiras?" His eyes brightened at the mention of the capital of the Kingdom of Torgovets.
"No sadly I haven't," she replied. No lowly merchant's niece would be well-traveled. A pirate on the other hand was entirely different. A whisper of wind told her Bedyr was with Lord Perlan. Hopefully this little sham would be over soon and she could get back to the sea where she belonged.
"They have the most stunning art and architecture," he said excitedly. As the young lord rambled on about the beauty of Tiras, Rae's eyes swept over the ballroom again, snagging on a nearby painting she'd overlooked in an alcove partially hidden behind a column.
A small gasp escaped her as she took in the beauty of it. Great blue strokes of waves that coiled and crested into the form of a woman in the center of the piece. Her features and hair all made of the various shades and curves of the sea. The woman in the painting held out her hand as if she were reaching for something. Rae stepped closer without thinking.
"It's a painting of Sira's blessing. I'm sure you've heard of the legend?" Dorn followed, taking in her line of sight.
As she moved closer, she saw the small ship with white sails in the bottom right corner of the painting. Barely visible compared to the turbulent outline of the woman, was a sailor on the ship extending his hand back to her. Her brows furrowed as she took in the exquisite simplicity of the painting. The dark blues of the sea molded and blended into the bright cerulean of the sky.
She had heard of it, but only in Pirate's Jaws. And from her father. He used to tell her all kinds of stories on their sailing trips. She focused on the painting and forced the painful memories back. To see it in a merchant's home in Torgovets was— unexpected. "It's a beautiful rendering. Although, many would consider it sacrilege to have such a painting hung on the walls," she said, turning towards him.
Something glinted in the eyes of the young lord, but it passed too quickly for her to decipher. "Yes, well Sanctum does not have eyes and ears everywhere," he said, his tone clipped. Her brows furrowed deeper at the blatant insolence. "My uncle is somewhat of a collector of the old world's artwork."
She cocked her head slightly, wondering whether he knew what Sanctum would do if they found such a painting in his uncle's possession. On full display in his ballroom of all places.
"Purely for their investment value, of course," he added belatedly. "Sira's blessing is just an old sailor's tale. Anyways, it would be a shame to have the painting destroyed, don't you think?"
Her brows knit together. She looked over the painting again, at the outstretched hand of the sailor. Legend spoke of the blessing as a gift that would give the bearer power over the seas. A token of the Guardian of the Sea herself. She knew those legends well. "Yes, it would be I suppose."
A servant came up to the young lord and he excused himself. Rae barely registered what he said, but managed to drop into a low curtsy before he walked off. She finally tore her eyes from the painting and made her way back to center of the ballroom.
Never one to let food waste, unlike the nobles in attendance tonight, Rae savored the puff pastry she'd nabbed and listened to the conversations around her. Most of which were centered on the Mires family. On her.
She'd done this enough times that she should be used to it. But there was something confining and suffocating about the nobility that didn't get easier to endure—their rules, clothes, and lives. Even the way they breathed was stiff and short, like there was never enough air in the room. All of it was distilled and refined to perfection. She had to be the same of course, or Malakai's lessons would've been a complete waste.
At some point, the Pirate King changed tactics from only capturing ships at sea along major trade routes to targeting merchant nobles directly. Setting his perfectly laid trap and she was always the bait.
Her wind picked up traces of conversations across the room, sifting through the gossip for anything worthwhile. Then she heard anxious whispers coming from a shadowed alcove across the ballroom. The wisps of wind almost drew her in. Like this was something she needed to hear.
"I know it's been hard, but there is—and strong. You all must—together," a deep, melodic voice said.
"Please come home. We—before the last—It's over," an airy, feminine voice replied.
"Lai. You know I can't even if —listen, it isn't safe for you—you need—"
Rae moved closer sticking to the outskirts of the room. She struggled to hear what was being said for the first time in her life. Perhaps they were forbidden lovers and she was being ridiculous, but something told her to listen anyways. She tried again to amplify their voices, but something was resisting her. The voices arrived to her muffled and garbled. She just made out the last bit.
"When storms stir in long silent stone," the first voice spoke again.
"and light is born of darkness," the woman answered.
Those were strange words to say to a lover. She moved again, hoping to lay eyes on the pair. A dark figure of a tall, broad-shouldered man came into view when a slithering voice interrupted her advance.
"Miss Mires. I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting. Lord Dane Remlos" A tall young lord with brown hair that fell into his wandering eyes said. A shorter and bulkier lord beside him spoke next, but she didn't bother to register his name as she looked back at the shadowy alcove, but the man was already gone.
She stifled a sigh and turned fully to face the two young lords who'd cornered her. "A pleasure to meet you both," she replied as she dipped into a curtsy.
"My cousin tells me you come from Noebah," he drawled. A cousin of Dorn meant another relative of the Perlan had found her. Great, another person she couldn't afford to piss off if she wanted Malakai's plan to work. "Tell me, are the balls more fun there? I hear Southerners aren't nearly as prudish." A saccharine smile spread on his face.
"None of the parties I've attended at home are as extravagant as this one, my lord." The lie was mostly true since pirates parties were anything but extravagant. She had no clue what the parties were like in Noebah though. The only thing she knew was that she needed to get away and soon before she did something she probably wouldn't regret.
"Pity." He looked her over again making her skin crawl, before offering one of two drinks he'd been holding. "Care for a drink?"
She took the glass, knowing it would be an offense not to. Her hands itching for her twin scimitars to grab ahold of instead.
"Lord Perlan's parties are impressive, but they're a little tame if you ask me." The shorter lord added as his eyes roved over the ballroom.
Rae brought the glass to her lips and pretended to sip. She wanted all her wits about her this evening. Not to mention, she never liked the muddled feeling of alcohol. Bedyr never failed to remind her how very un-pirate-like that was of her.
The tall one, Lord Remlos she reminds herself, shifted even closer. "What do you say we find somewhere more exciting to be Miss Mires?"
He was standing entirely too close to her. "I think my Uncle will miss me, my lord," she replied, glancing around her. They were the only people in this corner of the ballroom, a large marble column at her back. Her wind told her Bedyr was still speaking with Lord Perlan on the upper level.
"I'm sure he'll be busy for a while longer." Lord Remlos glanced down at her hand clutching the glass in a death grip. "You haven't finished your drink, Miss."
She stepped sideways, trying to get back around the column. "I must find my Uncle. Please excuse me, my lords." Before she could back out of his reach, Lord Remlos grabbed her arm. Just shy of the tip of her dagger. Shit.
It would have all been over before Bedyr even got the location of the ships they'd be targeting if he'd grabbed her just a few inches higher. Malakai would be furious if she fucked up this job. She couldn't exactly fight her way out of this and the young lord was unusually ballsy.
The stockier lord closed in on her left. Her thoughts raced. If she shouted it would create a scene and interrupt Bedyr's negotiations. If she took the two lords out, there was nowhere close to hide the bodies without anyone seeing. Bedyr and her would never make it out of the ballroom, let alone the port. Shit—how hadn't she noticed them earlier? She shouldn't have been cornered to begin with. She'd gotten too distracted by—
"Lord Remlos. Lord Alden." A deep voice spoke to her right. Her eyes locked with dark blue ones briefly before the man focused on the young lord accosting her. Lord Remlos dropped her arm and scowled at the man. She moved out of his reach before he could grab her again.
"Aaros. I didn't realize Lord Perlan was inviting sell-swords to his balls these days," Lord Remlos sneered.
Aaros was an unusual name for a Torgovetian. He met her gaze and his dark brows knitted for a heartbeat before smoothing out as he turned back to Remlos. "I'm here on official business for Duke Bergia."
"Right. If Bergia says bark you go woof. Such a good dog." Remlos looked him over dismissively.
Aaros ignored him completely, his gaze settling on her.
Rae wasn't sure how anyone, let alone the lanky lord to her left, could dismiss the living, breathing threat in front of her. Aaros was pure, lithe muscle beneath the cut lines of his dark coat and dress pants. His hands hung easily at his sides and even though there were no weapons on him that she could see, she had a feeling he didn't need any to be deadly. Her appraising eyes made there way back up to his face, snagging on the slight upturn to his full mouth.
His smirk disappeared as he finally inclined his head. "Miss." She curtsied as was custom and to her shock he extended a hand to her. "May I have this next dance?"
Her brows knitted as she weighed her options. Rae wasn't sure she'd be any better off with Aaros than the handsy young lords glaring at him, but at least if they were dancing it would be in the heart of the ballroom where there were plenty of witnesses.
She took his hand, leaving the two lords behind her looking like bloodhounds scenting freshly killed meat.
Only, Rae was just playing dead for the evening.
She discarded the drink the young lord had given her on a nearby table as Aaros led her to the dance floor. He swung her smoothly into his arms as the next song started. "Did you drink any of the wine?" His voice was low so only she could hear.
"What?" She gaped at him before schooling her features. Questionable conversation skills she noted. Her free hand settling on his muscled arm as they fell into the rhythmic give and take of the Torgovetian dance.
He arched a dark brow at her. "No, you didn't. You'd be stepping all over my feet if you did. It was laced with valerian root."
"I'm not foolish enough to drink from a glass handed to me by a stranger," she replied. That explained why the young lord was so interested in her finishing her drink. She had half a mind to go back and handle this all the way she wanted to in the first place.
"No. Just foolish enough to wander into dark, shadowy alcoves alone and unescorted." His dark eyes held hers.
Her jaw clenched before she bit out. "I can handle myself."
"I have no doubt of that," he drawled. "Maybe foolish was the wrong word. Nosy fits better I think?" His eyes narrowed as his hand splayed and contracted on her back.
Her brows shot upwards. How did he know she'd been trying to listen in on his earlier conversation? A caress of wind pushed her closer. Her chest almost brushing his. It was almost improper, but that wasn't what had her heart racing.
He leaned down, his warm breath caressing the shell of her veiled ear. "It takes one to know one, wind-slinger." His whisper shivered down her spine. He was a wind-slinger?
But there were barely any in the South. She'd tried looking for years as discretely as she could with Malakai breathing down her neck. He leaned back, taking his suffocating warmth with him without missing a single step in their dance. She took him in this time slowly. Black, almost blue, hair framed blue eyes as dark as the depths of the sea. He was sinfully handsome. And clearly dangerous if he was a wind-slinger. She needed to get away from him and find Bedyr immediately. But the dance wasn't over and she couldn't very well leave him in the middle of the ballroom.
"Aaros Senvar. At your service." He smirked. "I'm still waiting for a thank you by the way."
Her eyes narrowed. The nerve of this man. She wanted nothing more than to use her wind to knock him off his feet in the middle of the dance floor and make it look like he tripped, but she couldn't risk using her power in front of him. If he knew how powerful she was, the whole ruse would be over. He already looked more intrigued than he should be. What the hell was a lackey of Bergia's doing at a minor lord's ball anyways? Malakai would probably know. But he rarely ever let her in on any of his meetings. Either way she needed to keep the lie of Nicolette Mires going if she wanted this job to work.
And the One help her she needed this job to work if she was going to pull off her own scheme. Malakai and her plans rarely aligned these days, but tonight had to go smoothly or she could kiss any hopes of getting her hands on the charts she needed to find her father goodbye.
"Thank you, Aaros Senvar," she said. "I'm Nicol—"
"I know exactly who you are," he cut her off. She stiffened at the threat. Lucky for her the dance was finally over. She stepped back, her eyes never leaving his. Who was this man? Suddenly his rescue from earlier felt more like she'd walked into a trap.
"Nicolette. There you are," Bedyr's gruff voice broke their standoff. She'd momentarily forgotten they were in the middle of the dance floor and the other nobles were starting to stare as lords and ladies shuffled around before the next dance. "Come. Lord Perlan is ready to see you." Bedyr shot her a warning glance.
"Yes uncle," she replied. She curtsied to Aaros before taking Bedyr's arm and letting him lead the way. Giving her back to Aaros felt like a mistake.
She felt the searing heat of the wind-slinger's gaze follow her all the way up the stairs to the upper balconies. Her first real breath came only after they were out of sight. She shook her head, shoving all thoughts of the wind-slinger to the back of her mind.
She had a job to finish and a promise to keep.
Torgovetians were not known for having elementalist magic. The kingdom survived off cunning and lies—the powers of mercantilism. Most successful, merchant nobles in Torgovets already employed elementalists or had some born into their family if their bloodlines had been combined with other kingdoms of the realm more prone to having the magic crop up. Though Perlan was noble, he lacked a single drop of elemental blood in his family. He didn't seem to suffer much from it, if the state of his manor was anything to go by.
But Perlan needed someone powerful enough to ensure his vessels moved swiftly across the Great Sea to avoid capture from pirates or other merchants, while still meeting supply demands if he had any hopes of beating the competition. That was where they would step in. His desperation would drive him to consider working with them. She'd whip a bit of wind around to prove her powers. Nothing more than a lowly magic trick, but just enough to seal the deal.
Perlan would realize eventually that Varyn Mires, a lowly merchant from the southern province of Noebah looking to expand his profits, and his talented niece did not exist.
But pirate attacks were common in the Sixth realm and unfortunately for Perlan, Torgovets was neighbor to the Kingdom of Alkisar: Domain of Pirates.