Sechen wasn't lying about the scenery. It was gorgeous. The evening sun played with the ripples on the lake, glossing them with a layer of gold. Willow trees formed a canopy beside the lake which had turned into a home for the spotted ducks. A few ducks waddled on the banks while most of them splashed about in a nonchalant manner.

Cadence knelt down and touched the grass, finding the beginnings of bluebells. Most of their purple buds were closed, but there were a few early ones that nodded their heads at her.

She smiled and stroked the head of a fully bloomed bluebell. They were lucky plants. Folklore believed if she picked a hundred bluebells, she would be granted a wish. Glancing around, she saw there were not enough blooming bluebells to make a small bunch, let alone gather a hundred. Bluebells may be lucky, but she did not believe killing them just for the sake of ornaments or fulfilling wishes. If they really granted wishes, bluebells would have been extinct since the beginning of time, and the world would be a hot, smoking mess.

A yellow duckling waded up to her and stared at her with its dark, beady eyes.

"I've no bread for you," Cadence said. "Sorry to disappoint."

The duckling quacked, then ruffled its wings.

"I'm not going to bother Sechen just to feed you." Cadence stood up and started walking away. To her dismal, the duckling trailed behind her, waddling so fast it caught up between her shoes.

"Leave me alone!"

Cadence looked up and saw Eli walking up the slope and toward her. Wood thunked, grass crunched as he reached her.

"Oh, thank the Dewas," she muttered under her breath. "A duckling is harassing me."

"It's that Pipin?" Eli said. "That one is a sticker."

"I don't know. They all look the same."

Eli shook his head at Cadence and knelt down in front of the agitated duckling. He pulled out a folded cloth from his pocket and took out a piece of bread. He crumbled a small piece of the bread between his fingers and threw it to the duckling.

"Hail Eli," Cadence said. "Appeaser of ducklings."

"Pipin's brood lost their mother last week. This one, in particular, craves attention. She imprints on everyone who would pay her attention."

Eli tossed the last of the bread into the lake, sending Pipin squawking after and splashing into the water.

He brushed the crumbs off his hands. "So, how are you finding the place? I presume it is up to your comfort?"

"I would say to find it to my comfort is an understatement," said Cadence. "I wonder what it is like to grow up in such a lavish condition."

"It is very quiet, and it gets boring, honestly," Eli said. "My grandfather lives in the Hall of Spirits. Since almost the entire family died, I'm left with my mother and my tutor. Most of the time it's just me as my mother has a difficult time coping with reality. She would spend days, even weeks locked in her room."

"Because of the Great War?"

Eli nodded. "Her brother died. I think she blames herself for his death."

The guilt was inescapable. Cadence understood how that felt: the staggering sense of self-accountability, and feeble attempts at making things right again just for the feeling to be gone.

Eli hand went to his other forearm, touching the scars.

"How did that happen?" Cadence looked at the dark striations.

"I was seven," Eli said. "I disobeyed my mother, ran out to play in the streets. A woman came up to me. I didn't know who she was, I thought she wanted to play with me. She kidnapped me into this cavern underground where there were other children, teenagers, even adults. One by one, she forced them to drink a liquid which she claimed would be safe if we weren't Walkers."

The dark vicious liquid Taras carried in his bandolier, Cadence remembered. So that was the Heartburner.

"When it was my turn, I wasn't afraid since I wasn't a Walker. I had never been so wrong in my whole life. It burned me until I couldn't even think, it made me beg for death, but the Walker Hunters are animals without even a speckle of compassion in them. If not for my tutor who rescued me, I would have died. My mother was hysterical when I came home, and I never left the mansion until I had to draft."

"Silverbird will help you. If you have to pay him in Celestium, he better damn well be worth the metal."

"I'm skeptical. Do you have any idea how unpopular this Silverbird witch is in the Region of Spirits?"

Cadence shook her head.

"They say he is almost as old as the Founders themselves. He moves from town to town and settles down once every decade or so before he uproots and leaves without a trace."

"What does he look like?"

"No idea. Probably wears an insidious crow mask. Kashimi's is already macabre enough."

Cadence had to agree. The witch-doctor she went to for help worked in a tumbled-down shack where animal skulls scaffolded the exterior. At one point Cadence saw human bones too, but she was too worried about her father to be intimidated. This Silverbird must be no different.

A bell rang from the mansion, resonating over the gardens.

"Lunch." Eli tapped the grass with his staff. "Come, Sechen doesn't like it when we're late for meals."

The young noble turned to the other side of the garden and headed back toward the mansion. Cadence followed him, watching him hobble. She wondered how much pain he had to go through to even remain standing. His screams were still loud in her ears—the screams of a man who was utterly helpless as the best Mujarab in the nation tried to relieve him from his pain.

Cadence could see he was still trying to stand up as a proud individual in the prime of his health—the epitome of a nobleman. But he couldn't.

They were the last to enter the dining hall. Sechen was standing next to a woman with horse-like features, brown hair laced with silver drawn into a tight bun at the back of her head, and eyes that darted to and fro as though anticipating an attack at any given moment. Eli looked nothing like her with his strong jaw line and ruddy curls. Her wiry hands were trembling, dropping her spoon onto the table.

Sechen picked up the spoon and placed it aside, whispering into the woman's ears. Ales was sitting at the opposite end of the table. He wasn't wearing his mask and he had both elbows off the table. Impeccable manners at the dining table. Cadence's eyes fell onto the woman.

"Hello, mother," Eli said. "It's good to see finally you outside your room."

"Sechen told mother that you are having guests over," the woman said. "I had to see what your friends look like."

This must be Lady Khavarosk. Eliah was nineteen, yet his mother looked like a hag—sunken eyes, hollowed cheeks, crinkled skin and lips crusted with blood. Cadence had expected to meet a regal lady, not this shell of a woman.

"Who is this young lady?" Lady Khavarosk turned her dark eyes onto Cadence. Cadence shuddered internally. Those eyes were dead—there was no soul in them, only bitter emptiness.

"This is Cadence Novik," Eli said. "She's from my division."

"I've heard of no Noviks before," Lady Khavarosk's voice turned from sweet to gruff. "She's a bastard?"

"I am," Cadence said before Eli could answer.

"A bastard in the Khavarosk household." Lady Khavarosk sneered. "What has the world come to?"

"Mother." Eli hardened his voice. "She's a friend."

Lady Khavarosk waved him off. "Sit. The food is getting cold."

Cadence took a set near Ales, as far as she could possibly get from Lady Khavarosk. Eli sat on his mother's right side. Lady Khavarosk turned and started conversing with Eli in a low voice. Feorhs came out from the doors and served platters of food and pitchers of wine.

The food looked as good as the ones served in the Hall of Games, if not grander. There was a suckling pig roasted golden with an apple in its mouth, rashes of ham, a plate full of black mushrooms, and venison. Cadence doubted even with Ales and Eli combined they would be able to finish one-quarter of it.

There are people hungry out there in the streets, children dying from starvation, and the nobles are stuffing themselves with more food than they can stomach.

Not realizing it, she stabbed her plate with her fork, earning a look of disapproval from Ales.

"So, Cadence." Lady Khavarosk watched Sechen place a thin slice of ham onto her plate, then commenced cutting it up into pieces. "Tell me about yourself. How do you come to know my son?"

Cadence put down her fork. "I lived in a small town called Azrapol in the Region of Elements, and I met Eli in the Hall of Games."

Lady Khavarosk reached for her glass of golden wine. Her hands shook as she tried to grasp it, and ended up spilling most of her drink onto the tablecloth. "What about your family? Which bastard of a family did you spring from?"

"Mother," Eli said.

"It's alright." Cadence regretted putting down her fork. She needed to latch onto something to avoid saying something stupid out of indignation. Ales had whisked off her fork to his side of the plate. "My father was the head miner of the Azrapol Celestium mines. He had connections with the Celestium bank."

"A miner will always be a miner, no matter how glorious their ties are with the higher-ups. What about your mother?"

"She died when I was born." Cadence glared at the woman's contemptuous face.

"How do you find today's ham, my lady?" Sechen interrupted. "Chef Malin prepared it specially for you. He knows how much you like peppered ham, prepared with the Region of Elements' style, just like home."

"I should go back someday." Lady Khavarosk's sneer vanished, and a sad smile replaced it. "Vacek must miss me terribly since I am stuck in this bloody place."

"I'm sure your brother would desire that my lady places her health as priority over visiting him," said Sechen. "The Hall of Elements will not run, but your health will if you do not follow what Mujarab Fuervah has recommended."

The rest of the meal was eaten in complete silence, then Eli started coughing himself silly and had to excuse himself. As quick as lightning, a Feorh bounded after him as he left the dining hall.

Lady Khavarosk rose from her seat and rushed after her son, leaving behind Ales and Cadence who stared uncomfortably at each other.

"Forgive Lady Khavarosk," Ales said. "She's been through a lot, as expected from someone who has lost almost her entire family to a war."

Cadence stared at the two empty seats at the table. "I'm full." She put down her spoon with a clang.

"Where are you going?" her mentor asked. "You've hardly touched the soup."

"Anywhere but here," she replied, then left.

Was this what I gave up my father for? Was this what I killed everyone in the Mansion Orelik for? For a chance that my father would get well, I wouldn't have to work as a servant anymore, and the slight chance we would get rich and live like the nobles? Eli is dying. His mother is half-mad. Almost their entire family is dead. They live in a house as cold and dark as the winter. This was not what I envisioned. I have made the biggest mistake in the world.

She found herself circling the stairs for a while before ending up in her room.

So this was what living the noble life was like--a beautiful, empty shell. A shell that keeps everyone out and locks them in their own hollow self.

There was a soft knock at her door. Cadence eyed it warily. "Come in."

The doorknob twisted, and a Feorh in the shape of a small rabbit hopped into her chamber. Glowing blue runes surrounded it, brighter and more mesmerizing than the Feorh in the Hall of Games. It was as if the Feorh were powered by something more dynamic, Runecasters of greater capabilities.

To her surprise, the Feorh opened its mouth and a man's voice floated out.

"Miss Novik, I'm your tailor. Kindly follow the Feorh to my workshop."

Cadence blinked. "Alright."

The Feorh waited patiently for Cadence to leave the room first, then it bounded down the corridor, stopping occasionally for her to catch up. It led her up winding set of stairs. Mansion Khavarosk was not only spacious, but it had many floors. Facing every direction was a spiraled tower pointing into the sky. It was like climbing the bell tower all over again.

Upon reaching a door, the Feorh burst into a shower of blue sparks. Cadence gasped.

"That Feorh is about to be expired. They glow much brighter and then the runes collapse onto themselves." A man appeared at the door. "Come on in."

The man was wearing the queerest kubah she had ever seen. The Varya kubah had distinctive patterns on them, like protective runes; his had overlapping cloth across his left shoulder, and his utility belt was filled scissors, pins of various sizes, spools of yarn, and pencils. He even had a pencil stuck behind his right ear, and he appeared to be puffing something that smelled like tobacco from his pipe. Regardless of how scruffy his clothes might be, his kind brown eyes lined with black khol made Cadence relax.

"Young Master Khavarosk mentioned you needed a new dress for Ishor. House Khavarosk throws the biggest parties every year, especially for the major Sabbats. Nobility from all the powerful Houses will turn up in their finest, and they expect no less from you."

He fluttered around Cadence like a bat.

"Who are you?" Cadence asked.

"I'm Nikolai of the House Vasiliev, at your service." The tailor sank into a deep bow.

House Vasiliev was the House of Coins, the richest House in Moskava. What was he doing here, sewing for House Khavarosk?

"You're a tailor?" she said. "I wasn't expecting you to be, you know-"

"Varya?" Nikolai finished her sentence for her. "Let's just say my House did not agree with my aspirations and cast me out as a disgrace."

Cadence glanced around the workshop. Varya Runes gleamed on every surface. Some floated around, some were on the rolls of cloth, a few were on the spinning wheel, and plenty was on the walls, even on the large blackboard at the back of the workshop. There were ten mannequins, each one sporting either a dress or a suit of utterly bewitching designs. He had even managed to turn the boring black suits into something exclusively his.

"You're a Runecastor," she said.

"Indeed I am." He placed a stool in front of Cadence. "I prefer to put my Runes to other use. The Hall has more than enough people who could harm others, they do not need one more. Do you mind removing the outer layers of your robes, pumpkin? I need to take your measurements."

Nikolai pointed at the changing screen behind a clutter of cloth and ribbons.

Cadence complied, then remembered she had her daggers under her robes. She pulled them out and placed them on top of the table.

"Nice daggers," Nikolai said. "Very fancy."

"Thanks," Cadence said. "A friend gave them to me."

"Then your friend is either insane or insanely rich, or both."

Cadence agreed on the latter. Ales was insane, and he was nobility, which made him rich as well. She went behind the screen and peeled off the second layer of her robes and stepped onto the stool where Nikolai began to fuss over her.

Measuring tapes, also gleaming with Runes, hovered around the tailor who wrapped them around her chest, her waist, and her hips, then measured the length from her collar bone to her feet.

"Will you be able to make me something that I wouldn't trip over?" Cadence asked. She had seen the dresses Khazaria wore. Moskava had abused their traditional dresses by turning them into a choke of silk. In the older days, Moskavan girls wore two piece dresses—a flowing top which reached the knees and pants underneath—a lethal combination of beauty and soldier. Ever since Maysia culture seeped into Moskava, they altered their dresses drastically, turning them into rolls of heavy silk and lace.

"Not a dress person, I see." Nikolai's words came out muffled, as he had a pencil in between his teeth.

Cadence shook her head.

"Do you have a favorite color?" Nikolai directed the measuring tapes back into their respective drawers before helping her down from the stool.

"Red."

Her father had bought her a small carriage toy when she was a child. It was painted bright red with black wheels. She loved it to bits and carried it with her at all times, but she lost it after she accidentally dropped it into a river. She had been inconsolable. Her father had promised her a new one, but he never did.

"A color of passion. I approve." Nikolai recorded the measurements into a frayed ledger and stuck the pencil back behind his ear. "Moskava fashion has been ruined by Maysia. Now people wear the color of funeral rites instead the colors of the Dewas. If you could return to the time when I was a child, you would get to experience true Moskavan culture, not this Maysia rubbish they try to influence us with."

He shut the ledger with a snap. "Off you go now. I'll send a Feorh for you when the dress is ready."

"But the party is tomorrow," Cadence said. "Would you be able to finish it on time?"

Nikolai's eyes crinkled as he smiled, puffing out a perfect smoke ring from his pipe. "You'll be surprised."