The manor was packed with people. Even from a distance I saw them milling past both the upstairs and downstairs windows. The shutters had been thrown open and the curtains tied to the side to allow a breeze to cool the guests. The party spilled out into the garden, where dozens of tables with small shading parasols had been set up to absorb the overflow capacity of the guest list's entourages. The sorcerers were populous enough as is, but it was made even worse by the many Assistants stumbling over each other. And for them, even more support staff, as cleaning people were visible darting between groups of chatting party-goers to clean up any spills and attend to refreshments.

The pathway leading up to the stairs was choked with carriages, the drivers impatient or stoic as their masters climbed off laughing and reminiscing. Despite how many had come early, even more had swept into Blythe at the last minute, each bringing a small army. There was hardly a place to stand. People were pushed up against the trees and bushes, not to find a moment of quiet to trade tender kisses, but because there was nowhere else to stand. The constant shouts of glee and happiness as old friends were reunited only slowed the foot traffic more as others stopped around them, waiting to pass. Swells of people gathered like knots in a loose spool of thread.

Carefully swinging his hips so he avoided clipping a gurgling birdbath, Osoro managed to get past an entire wall of people. Being thinner, I caught up to him in the small pocket of air he'd found with no other battle scars besides the small flower bed my new boots grazed. A petal was stuck between the buckle and the tongue of the shoe, and I shook my foot idly to dislodge it as I waited to make our next move.

Wishid Kluth, distinctive as always in his tidy white ensemble, was working the door, verifying identities as he let people pass as part greeter and part bouncer. When he saw Osoro, he waved us through, though he frowned. We went from the entryway toward the large arch that denoted the main dining hall. The decorations were much nicer now that it was properly populated with bustling groups.

Osoro leaned over to me.

"Everything we discussed in the Avalonry is to be kept secret."

"What? But—"

A plump man with a mustache and parted brown hair broke away from the crowd. It took me a second to recognize him in formal wear, but when he was right before us I realized it was Bernard.

"I can't believe I was planning on skipping the dinner. Even more people showed up than at the boat party last night.... Though I was hoping to see Ricardo again; he was really excited to tell me something... I wouldn't be surprised if he overindulged and was recovering at the inn. Just like him," Bernard laughed. "Gave me a chance to catch up with Goldwynn finally. I'd heard he was in town but he's been so busy with all the Arcanacrats that are squabbling. He's got the most hideous Proving scars! And the best stories, if Azeria goes into her own Proving with the right mindset—" Bernard stopped. He leered at me. "Who's your handsome friend, Sir Osoro?"

He extended a hand, shaking my hand vigorously. The warmth and charisma radiating from him was the complete opposite of the chilly stuck up attitude I was used to, and then I remembered I was dressed in finery and under a disguise Enchantment.

"Uh..." Sir Osoro began, caught off guard. He should have thought of a name to give the doorman!

"I'm Bernard, Bernard Reglar. It's a pleasure to meet you. Would you like me to introduce you to some of the guests?"

"Bernard—" Osoro tried to edge in.

"I sense you're not Enchanted, but many guests are accompanied by their Assistants so you shouldn't want for conversation—"

"Bernard," He raised his voice. "I have some news about Mallow."

"That charming Moon Giant runaway? Her icicle father still hasn't found her? Poor dear. Oh I certainly hope she's all right. When I ran away, I had no idea what I was doing." A blush tinged his cheeks. He had been drinking more than the other times I'd seen him, from the sweet wine smell on his breath. He folded his hand warmly over mine and then let go. "Excuse me, Sir Osoro and I must discuss something in private. Do forgive my rudeness."

I remained silent, afraid my voice would reveal me. They took a few steps away, and suddenly I was milling in the middle of the crowd, surrounded by strangers.

As I reached for a snack on a passing tray, I noticed my hand had gone its natural color again. The Contractor's ring pinched the skin tightly. I caught my face in the reflection of a silver serving dish. It was me again. What? Why would Sir Osoro drop the disguise? Was this a set up? Wasn't anyone recognizing me?

Rorona waved as she flowed behind Shician Lars. She risked a quick quip, leaning in toward me.

"Love the new outfit, and try not to look so down." She winked at me, cheesy and goofy. Definitely not an Arcanacrat. "I'll see if I can sneak away later."

"Down?"

"You've finally got shoes, but you look all tense."

"Rah—" Lar's familiar voice rang out. Rorona swore, turned and ran toward Lars, calling quickly over her shoulder. "Save a dance for me, okay Azark?"

Her call probably alerted anyone looking for me that I was here. I peered in paranoia to see if any BROS or Arcana Agents were closing in on me.

Across the room, between pillars of shoulders and draping fabric, a pair of eyes caught mine. They were large and lined in black, but sparkling with joy. It was hard to recognize him at first with his long dark hair swept back and tucked slickly behind his ears instead of hanging in his face.

Winsor was talking to a group of people, other sorcerers. Some of them were Azeria's friends, and some were others I'd seen at the restaurant that night but who I didn't know. His dialogue, I couldn't hear, but his body language was awkward yet playful. He kept stumbling over his words, accidentally interrupting and then going quiet for too long as he waited for the other person to pick back up. Then he'd giggle, a free laugh, and the others would laugh with him. I wondered what had accounted for his change in mood.

Then she stepped forward from behind another person and rested her fingertips against the inside of his elbow. She was smiling, her dark clothes matching his, her pointed ears dripping with jewels, her make up tidy once again. Azeria. Winsor's smiled grew wider still, and her painted lips smiled faintly too. Winsor then glanced up at me again, and excusing himself, hurried across the room. I took a step back, but he was faster than I could retreat.

Winsor threw his arms around me. I lost my balance and the snack went flying from my hand, presumably to land in someone's hair. His face pressed against my chest, and I felt a laugh reverberate against me. He pulled back and beamed up at me. He was not levitating. He was so much shorter then I was.

"Thank you." His eyes glistened with tears, his rounded smiling cheeks making the slow roll of them inevitable. "Thankyouthankyou."

"Whoa, whoa, Winsor." I patted him on the shoulder.

"I know. Undignified. I ... I feel... it's..." He moved his hands through the air. "I woke up this morning, Azark, and everything was different. Everything was right. I was a hero. And, you know what happened this morning?" He bounced from one onyx colored boot to the other.

"What?" I asked. In the early hours of this morning, his father had been trying to kill me. If not for my years in sales, I wouldn't have been able to keep the anxiety out of my voice.

"Azeria said that she'd let me court her again. She said that she missed my presents. That she missed me." Winsor, unable to resist, peeked over his shoulder at Azeria. She was holding a glass and drinking from it, and when she saw him she tilted her head, her ringlets of hair bouncing across her shoulders. Winsor sighed wistfully. "...and she said this because you made her think about how she felt. She kept telling herself that she wasn't jealous, but she realized she was and when she realized that, she realized a lot of other things." Winsor's face, usually so pale and dire, was bright with color. "She said if things work out, she might even get married to me instead of going on her Proving."

"Oh, that's great! That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"What I wanted?" Winsor's grin broke, achingly earnest. "Azark, if this works out, if she feels even a fraction of what I feel for her, if she and I marry... you'll have saved her life as well as Thessa's." Winsor swallowed, once, twice, three times. He dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief and composed himself. "You'll have saved her life Azark, where my endless hours of pleading could not. And all because you discerned how she felt instead of what I'd always done, telling her of how I felt. You asked."

"It's... what I do." When I want to make a sale. When it came to Mallow, it was always about my feelings, never hers. But with Azeria, it had been easy. With Winsor, it had been easy. Because I'd been using them.

"But I'm going to be different now," he vowed. "I'm going to think of how others feel as well as myself. I'm going to try and understand why they're acting the way they do instead of reacting with my own emotion. Speaking of which..."

He tapped my shoulder and leaned in closer.

"I prefer you should stay in Blythe after the party."

"I'd love to Winsor, but I really can't. There's things I must do."

"Yes, I know you are busy. I can see the anxiety on your face to move on, but there's a problem with your present. And in honor of my new attitude toward being aware of the emotions of others first and my own second, I must insist that this matter be resolved before you continue on your journey."

"My... present?" I asked.

"Yes." Winsor reached into his side pouch, ornate and indistinguishable from the small belt it sat on. He withdrew a small key. He handed it to me. "Oh Azark, I do love it. If not for Azeria, it would be all I could think of. Honestly, ever since I overheard you let it slip in the stables."

"I... You overheard...?" Then I remembered the stables. That loudmouth, asking about Mallow again, when Winsor and I were exiting for the ruins. What had he said? 'How's that Moon Giant for Master Reglar? Did you wrap her up, or...?' I had been half tempted to take his tip back, but since Winsor wasn't nearby, I had hoped he hadn't heard.

"You clever cad," he teased. "Acting like she 'went missing', just so my father would have time to prepare her for me."

"You... shouldn't have seen your present already," I chided, my voice faltering.

"Oh, I know, I wasn't supposed to, but once I was recovered and everyone was occupied, I noticed Father didn't have many presents in the pile. Certainly nothing large enough to hold the present I knew the two of you were conspiring on from my eavesdropping. I fathomed that if he got me anything fantastic, it must be in his lab," Winsor clapped his hands together. "And I was right."

My own knees felt weak. I felt sick. I had convinced myself that because Winsor hadn't kidnapped Mallow, he wouldn't have. That his dad was wicked, and he was an innocent kid. But the glee in that breathe, the excitement...

"How much did Father pay you for her?" He then cut himself off. "Oh, oh, never mind. Don't tell me! Whatever it was, it couldn't have been enough. I couldn't see her; Father triple cursed the door, and I dare not mess with a hex still recovering like I was, but I heard her. She was crying."

"Crying?"

"Oh, Azark. I'm sure you've grown attached over your travels, but don't worry. She will be a monster of elegance. She will have all the finest things that her confines can hold. I'm already envisioning redecorating Reglarun's tower. That will put her closer to her beloved moon, donned in the finest silks and jewels. She will learn all the most beautiful instruments so the air she breathes will be soaked with song. She will be fed the sweet fruits and most succulent meats," he assured me, hands rubbing together. "Hex it, I think she might even dine with us once all the guests are gone..."

His face shadowed with doubt.

"Though, that brings me to the reason you must not leave Blythe hastily. She is not fully tamed yet. As I said, she was crying." He beamed at me. "I think the change was sudden for her. Like when I leave, my dogs will cry and cry no matter how well feed and played with by the staff. Animals are funny and irrational. They just... feel. And I believe she needs someone she trusts to explain that everything will be okay. You're the closest thing she has to a friend, since you've traveled together so much. There is no one more suited to smoothing the transition than you."

"Oh." Was all I said to this rambling speech. The corners of Winsor's smile sunk, his eyebrow pinched together.

"If you require additional payment, I will be happy to make it."

"Winsor, I'm sort of a wanted man," I confessed. Winsor's eyes widened.

"Wanted? Really? I'll speak with father, and we'll clear that up. Whatever record you have, I'm sure there's some way to tidy it up so that you may work here. You have done such a service to this household—"

"Shh, Winsor," I said. "You'll spoil the surprise if you keep talking about it."

He nodded solemnly, his treated hair not swaying into his vision like I was used to.

"You are quite right. But even if you cannot assist in that, I must thank you again for your help last night. I had your horse returned to the stables, so she should be there. The family veterinarian checked over her for injuries and provided her with an gourmet enchanted feed for her troubles. The veterinarian also examined Thessa, who is a delight to have around."

He pointed over to a corner I'd hadn't seen yet. A large crystalline bowl held Thessa, swimming in the shallow water with flowers spinning around her. She was leaning over the ledge, eating cookies while the guests laughed and asked her questions.

"People have been talking to me all day, asking about her, about what happened. I had to lie a little, of course. Ricardo cannot be incarcerated so there is no point in tarnishing his name only to risk me being charged with murder. As for Phlo and Phil, they should keep their distance. I will write to their estates later to see if we cannot come to some sort of settlement. Maybe have them gift Thessa's family some luxuries or pay for her special care needs..." He looked down, thoughtful, before shaking his head to free the troubled thought. "...something like that to absolve them. But the citizens, their curiosity about Thessa is overwhelming their biases against me. I think a few may even start to like me somewhat. It's actually not too bad, this whole... talking thing, when people aren't trying to harass you."

Over his shoulder, I noticed Bernard march toward the front of the room. His face was heated and his steps stiff. Osoro was gesturing toward Bernard, toward the exit...

Around Bernard, two of Winsor's dog scampered. In one black snout, a sweetened roll was clamped firmly. The other swung its jaws from left to right in order to kill its already dead prey, spattering the marinade on the pork chop it had stolen unnoticed onto several gown skirts. A maid chased them helplessly, afraid of bumping guests and so always two steps behind. "Azark, this is all marvelous news. Why do you look so troubled?"

"It's nothing, Winsor."

"You can tell me. I promise I won't consider it impertinent. After all you've done for me, I want to honestly know if there's anything I can do for you." Winsor's dark eyes were warm as he smiled at me. "I know you used to lie for a living, but you don't have to do that anymore. I won't let you starve, I promise. Even if it's something I won't like, I'll listen."