This is it, Eden thinks to himself, surveying the scene before him. This is how I'll die.
Musicians run bows over strings. Blow into flutes. Strum guitars. People laugh and dance and talk. Fine silk and petticoats rifle through his vision. He stands frozen in a corner, looking over a cup of wine, trying to stay unnoticed in the face of dangerous socialization.
"Who put dirt on your face, Sentinel?"
He starts at the sight of the Tondan man in front of him, dressed in what Eden assumes can only be traditional island wear. A red cloth is tied around the man's head, dark hair trailing towards his collarbone. Winding blue tattoos stencil his bare chest. A matching red loincloth keeps his private parts out of view, though Eden averts his eyes, clearing his throat. The man's been working the crowd in the ballroom, brown skin warm in the light from the grand chandeliers overhead, making women gasp and men guffaw. Sometimes he has a monkey on his shoulder, other times an eagle, but Eden sees no sign of either animal now.
"Where did you come from?" Eden asks. "I mean, how did you... I didn't see you come out of the crowd..."
"Oh," the Tondan says, shifting his weight. There's a glint in his dark eyes, and when he moves, the gold hoops in his earlobes jostle. "It's an old islander trick. So, again: who put dirt on your face?"
"They're freckles," Eden points out.
The Tondan squints. "Ah. So they are!" He makes a flourish with his dark hands, and in a puff of black smoke, he produces a rose. "For you," he offers.
Eden blinks. "You- how did you do that?"
A brown finger goes over browner lips. "Secret."
Eden reaches for the rose, already notching off the thorns with the edge of his thumbnail.
"What am I supposed to do with this?" he asks.
But the Tondan man's somehow found his way into the crowd again, spooking a gaggle of noble girls with what sounds like a war cry.
"It's indecent," remarks a middle-aged man.
"It's hilarious," says another, clutching at his stomach. "This is the best hired entertainment I've seen in ages. Fill your cup with humour instead of wine, Arroyo."
Someone's nearly choking with laughter somewhere in the room, probably already deep in their cups. Eden keeps an expectant watch over the grand doors, inlaid with jewels and silver, his cup in one hand and the rose in the other. Snows and sands, his legs ache. He feels like he's been waiting forever.
A caustic flash of red cuts through the crowd. Eden starts at the sight of it, lowering his cup. He shifts out of the corner and the shadows, turning sideways to enter the mass of people congregating in the center of the ballroom. That flash of red moves when he does, never standing perfectly still, burning brighter than any fire.
A woman backs into him, knocking his cup of dark wine onto her pale dress. Her mouth opens to berate him, but when her blue eyes fall on his uniform, she swiftly falls silent. Eden mumbles a graceless apology as the cup clatters to the marble floor, still following that spark of crimson.
His hand reaches out, stretching. There's something familiar about that redness...
His fingers close around a shoulder. The boy in front of him pauses, stiffening.
"Don Ramon?"
Eden's fingers fall away when Ramon turns. Eden would've recognized that hair anywhere, even though it's been almost three years since he and the heir to House Rubio have met in person. It's curling and crimson, stark against his skin- tan from his time in the Lowlands of South Vesenna- and freckles dot his cheeks.
"Yes?" His dark eyes don't hold much recognition.
"It's me. Eden Tudor."
His full lips break out into a riotous smile. "Eden Tudor! It's good to see you again!"
Eden grins back. "I wasn't expecting to see you back in Migos so soon. I thought you'd still be in Dendara."
"I wanted to surprise my sister. Speaking of Rufina-" His eyes dart around. "Where is she?"
"You..." Eden wets his lips, shifting his weight. Of course, Ramon wouldn't have heard the news, having probably just stepped off a train into the city. "You didn't return home first?"
"It wouldn't have been much of a surprise to see her there."
"I guess so."
"So?" Ramon prompts. "Have you seen her?"
Eden hesitates. Ramon's eyes are wide with anticipation. Eden recalls a time when those eyes were green like his sister's. They're a curious brown now, dark and edged with gold.
"I haven't," he decides to say. "I'm sorry."
"Ah." Ramon's face falls. "Well, you know my sister. It's not a proper entrance unless she comes in later than everyone else, right?"
He shrugs. "Right. Er- by the way..."
"Esteemed ladies and gentlemen!" a voice booms.
Eden and Ramon look away from each other, searching for the source of the voice. They find it standing by the musician's platform in the form of a man wearing a garish pink waistcoat and navy suit jacket. His beard is shaped to perfection and gelled into a point beneath his chin, a monocle positioned over his left eye. He leans on a cane, its gold handle fashioned into the shape of a roaring tiger.
Out of the crowd comes the Tondan man from earlier in his tribal getup, bare feet padding on the marble floors. The man with the monocle smiles deviously as the indio nears.
"Thank you for your generous attention," the man says. "You might know that my father was the sponsor behind tonight's party."
A polite round of clapping follows his proclamation. Eden joins in, but not before tucking his rose into his pocket.
"You might also know that my name is Alejandro Lopez, purveyor of all things exotic and fine." More applause follows. "I bring to you, all the way from an untouched island off the coast of Tondo, a warrior of the Kalipu tribe. The poor man's been working the room all night." Alejandro leans in. "So, mighty warrior. What is your name?"
The Tondan opens his mouth to speak, but Alejandro's cane comes out, whipping the indio in the thigh. The indio remains strangely silent.
"Oh, my apologies. I just remembered: no one here cares." He pitches his head back and laughs. A few people in the room even join in.
Eden steps forward. "Excuse me, Señor Lopez, but I'll have to ask you not to be cruel."
"Cruel, my dear lawman? Don't be silly. He enjoys it. Don't you, oh mighty one?"
The Tondan says nothing.
Ramon puts a hand on Eden's shoulder, and together they back away into the crowd.
Eden mumbles, "He's not an animal."
Ramon frowns, something brewing in the darkness of his eyes. "You're right. But him?" He jerks his chin at Alejandro Lopez. "It would be better to be an animal than to be him."
"Tonight," Alejandro continues, "I wanted to show you all a little demonstration. My little warrior can fight, but let's see if he can best a blanco!"
A woman titters somewhere to Eden's right. Men cheer. Children giggle at the half-clothed indio. Alejandro grins and grips the tiger on the head of his cane. With a flourish, he pulls it free, and with it comes a gleaming rapier. The crowd breaks out into applause once more.
The Tondan flashes a grin of his own, but Eden can see reluctance in the twitching corners of his lips. He pulls a dagger from the scabbard at his hip, the blade twisted and dull.
"Let's dance," Alejandro says.
In a flurry of movement, the Tondan attacks, bringing his dagger up in a high arc, and pushing it down near Alejandro's head. Alejandro whips his rapier around just in time, deflecting what would've been a fatal blow to his cranium. In response to the beginning of the fight, the musicians strike up a tune. A bassist plucks up a series of notes, while the cello player beside him drags his bow across the strings of his instrument. A violinist builds onto the arrangement as the tension builds.
Alejandro and the Tondan circle each other. Cries of encouragement radiate from the crowd.
"Lash the indio's face!" shouts a man.
"Let him have it!" bellows another.
Eden's lips twist, horrified. Ramon looks on.
"We always say we're civilized, you know," the Borja boy begins. "But look at us mighty blancos now, proving our supposed power over what we call an inferior race."
"I don't think they're inferior."
"No. Of course you wouldn't. You Wilshorians are nearly just as persecuted." He pauses when Alejandro slices a long line over the Tondan's chest, drawing blood. Ramon doesn't wince, though Eden cringes away at the sight. "Though not as publicly," adds Ramon. "After all, you are pale, and they are not."
Eden opens his mouth, peering at Ramon. He's grown so much taller since they've last seen each other. He's almost at Eden's eye level. "What?"
Ramon blinks and laughs. "Sorry. Vesennans talk like that whether you want them to or not. I've gotten pretty used to it, I guess."
The Tondan lashes out with his dagger again, cutting into Alejandro's sword hand with a quick swipe. Jeers roll out. Alejandro's perfectly gelled hair starts to come apart, dark strands hanging over his forehead. His face reddens with rage. This time, he charges at the Tondan, his rapier whistling through the air as he brings it down. The Tondan drops to the ground in a ball and tumbles away, getting to his bare feet again in the next second. Alejandro's rapier clangs uselessly on the marble.
"Face me head-on like a man!" Alejandro snarls. "Ah, but you're not a man at all, are you? You're an animal!"
Cheers ring out in the ballroom.
The warrior pounds his chest. "And yet you charge like a threatened carabao." He tilts his head. "Who's the real animal, Señor?"
With a roar, Alejandro lunges forward, manacle falling away. His rapier meets the Tondan's dagger in a flurry of sparks. The crowd presses toward the show, eager shouts filling up the room until Eden is sure the palace will explode.
The Tondan folds first. Alejandro swipes a smarting line down the former's tattooed arm, crying out in victory- but then the warrior turns as the rapier moves down his tricep, raising his dagger, raking a line down Alejandro's torso. Alejandro's suit jacket splits open, red springing up onto the pink.
All is silent for a moment. The Tondan bares his teeth.
"Don't worry. It's... how do you say it in Edeiran? Not so deep." He sheathes his dagger. "You'll be fine."
"Why you-"
"Alright!" Eden bellows. "That's enough!" He pushes his way out of the crowd, hand hovering over his pistol. "Keep that blood away from the children here!"
The Tondan's black eyes flicker down to the rose in Eden's pocket. Then, perhaps expectantly, his gaze goes toward the towering jewel-inlaid doors.
They creak open. Eden turns to the sound, the fight momentarily forgotten.
Sentinels stream in first, a sea of blue and silver. Trailing behind them is a man in shades of grey, dark curls slicked back for the evening, a yellow bowtie resting just beneath his neck. He looks back into the hall behind him, a weary smile coming upon his face. He extends a single hand.
And Eden can't help but stare.
He's heard stories about this girl, of course, and of the wealthy House that she hails from, the oldest of five daughters with no son in sight. He's known her name, and never her face. Up until now, he didn't think knowing it would seem so vital.
At this moment, though- when the light of the chandelier cascades over the planes of her cheekbones, washing through her dark brown hair to reveal strands of red and gold, and her heavy-lashed eyes seem to beckon to him- he thinks that knowing her face might be the most important thing in the world.
The herald that's stationed by the doors stands to attention. "Damas y cabelleros," he begins, "from the rolling hills of Covigo... Don Mateo de Silva y Narro, head of House Silva, and his daughter, apparent Queen Consort to King Miguel de Aguilar y Borja, Doña Rosalinda de Silva y Rubio."
For a moment, the ballroom is quiet. Someone lets out a hastily muffled cough. The silence stagnates.
Then the world erupts in rapturous applause, and all Eden can do is tuck his pistol away and join in.