"The tall blonde man standing by the gargoyle."

"Father, that's Uncle Alexander. I know him already."

"I know you do, Cornelius. Give me what I'm asking for."

Nine-year-old Cornelius Borrail sighed. When younger, he'd loved playing this game with his father, but if the truth was to be told now he was tired of it. Every party they went to, he was asked to recite the names and families of all the people in attendance. Cornelius was still mightily proud that he could remember all of them, but he didn't see why he had to keep proving it. They only ever socialized with the same people.

"Alexander Reed II. His wife is Juliana, daughter of Abbán and Junerva Borrail."

"And his children?" asked Nevan Borrail.

"My cousins, Damien and Georgiana."

"Very good," Nevan said, without really sounding like he was pleased. He looked around the room and Cornelius waited patiently, wondering who he'd be asked to identify next.

Nevan pointed.

"The woman standing over the punch bowl, in the green dress."

"Maura Bradigan, daughter of Sean and Imogen Bradigan," Cornelius recited blandly. Nevan raised an eyebrow.

"I'd sound more enthusiastic if I were you. Maura is an extremely powerful woman. You see the distinguished man standing next to her?"

"Yes. Cormac MacFealltoir, advisor to the High Councilor."

"That's right. She and Cormac are quite close."

"Why haven't they married?" Cornelius asks. "Seems like a fair match to me."

"It would be, Cornelius, but there are things about their relationship that you do not understand," Nevan said. "It is an adult concern and you shouldn't worry yourself with it. Now, the family that just…walked in."

Cornelius turned to look, but he knew who it was by the tone of his father's voice. Nevan was always careful to stress to his son that though all pureblood families were important, there were some that certainly deserved more respect than others. This family was one that did not, in Nevan's eyes, deserve anything more than aloof politeness.

"It's Vincent Everard and his wife Fiona, sister of Cormac MacFealltoir. He has only one daughter, Caroline," Cornelius said, watching Caroline as he spoke.

She was only ten years old, but she looked much older. Cornelius decided that it was because of the way her mouth was so firmly set in an unimpressed line. Her eyebrows, too, arched in such a way that it looked like she was always frowning. Cornelius decided that she was probably ashamed of her father.

"Um, Father," he said. "What's so wrong with the Everards?"

"Mm. I suppose you're old enough to know now," Nevan said. "They're criminals, the lot of them. Liars and blood traitors. I don't know how Fiona lowered herself to such rabble." Had Cornelius been older, he might have detected a shred of bitterness in his father's tone, a trace of wistfulness in the looks he gave Fiona Everard; but nine-year-olds don't notice such things.

"I think I'd like to marry Caroline when we grow up," Cornelius said. Nevan smiled at him.

"You'd do well to," he said. "She takes after her mother; she'd make a fine wife. I might approach Fiona about it later tonight. The sooner you get the girl away from her father's side, the better."

He followed his son's gaze to the girl and smirked to himself.

"That's enough for now. Why don't you go talk to her?"

"Thank you, Father," Cornelius said immediately, stepping off in Caroline's direction. She was holding her father's hand and looking up at Kennedy Graham like she was listening to the things he was saying. Poor dear, she's so polite, Cornelius thought as he reached out and tapped her on the shoulder. She turned her head and fixed her dark brown eyes on him. He smiled what he hoped was a charming grin.

"Good evening, Caroline," he said, bowing a little to her.

"Good evening, Cornelius," she said. She nodded curtly before turning back to the conversation.

"So, I understand you'll be off to Ballynahattin next year," he said, trying to direct her attention back to him. She turned her head lazily.

"That's right, Cornelius. I'll be eleven, and that is the age when one usually heads off to school," she said. There was something in her tone that sounded slightly grating, but Cornelius ignored it. She was probably just annoyed because her father wouldn't let go of her hand.

"So what house do you plan to try for? I'll be placed in Seirbhe, of course, that's obvious. My cousins will see to it. The Reeds—do you know them?" he asked.

"Yes. I believe Georgiana and I had a play date once," Caroline said, glancing in his direction.

"Oh, really?" Cornelius said, smiling. He'd have to ask Georgiana about Caroline; his cousin was quite the expert on the behavior of young ladies.

"Yes. She wrote me a letter the next day telling me, very politely, that she never wanted to see me again," Caroline replied without looking.

"Oh. Well, Georgiana is quite temperamental at times. Uncle Alexander positively spoils her," Cornelius said. Caroline nodded absently. He waited a moment. She didn't speak. "So, what house were you aiming for?"

"I think I like Misneach," she said.

"M-Misneach?" Cornelius repeated, scoffing. "Why on earth would you want to be in Misneach? It's overrun by Ballantines, from what I hear."

Caroline turned and smirked at him, one corner of her mouth raised.

"Exactly," she said.

"Caroline, Kenny just asked you a question," Vince said, turning around. It was then that he noticed Cornelius standing there, and he smiled. He released Caroline's hand and rested his now free hand on her far shoulder.

"Why, hello there, Corny," he said. "I didn't hear you come over. Having a chat with my Caro, are you?"

Cornelius's cheeks were burning. He struggled to maintain his composure before the imbecile, for Caroline's sake. Corny?!

"Actually, I was about to ask her if I could get her some punch," he said politely.

"No thank you, Cornelius. I'm fine," Caroline said, smirking triumphantly at him from next to her father's hip. She gave a little laugh and turned away. "I'm sorry, Mr. Graham. What were you saying?"

Vince had the audacity to wink at Cornelius before he too turned away. Cornelius was left to slink back to Nevan's side, his pale cheeks aflame with his embarrassment. Ever impassive, Nevan hardly looked at his son as he returned.

"How'd it go?" he asked.

"I hate that man," said Cornelius.

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