Mòrag normally woke at sunrise without an alarm. And in the sixteen years she had known Brighid, her Blade had only intruded on her sleeping hours a few times—and then only for emergencies.
So when Brighid woke her by slapping her repeatedly with a folded-up newspaper, Mòrag jerked herself alert instantly.

"I'm up, Brighid. I'm up!"

"Lady Mòrag, just how much champagne did you have last night?" Brighid demanded.

"Good morning to you, too."

"Please tell me you were drunk last night."

"I wasn't. Why on earth would you want me drunk?"
"Because at least alcohol would be an easy way to explain your ghastly behavior."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Mòrag said, raising her hands defensively.

"I am shocked that you let Zeke behave in such a way, Lady Mòrag. You know Mor Ardain's etiquette better than anyone. It is a gross breach of conduct for a man to touch any woman so...informally in public, even if she is his wife. And yet you did not stop him. Some might even say you encouraged him."

Mòrag stifled a laugh. Of course that was what had the Blade so worked up. Brighid was even more of a stickler for protocol and tradition than she was.

"Brighid, you're overreacting. This is not the scandal you're making it out to be."

"Isn't it?"

The Blade thrust her newspaper into her Driver's hand and slapped the cover page.

A copy of Core Crystal Weekly unfolded before her to reveal an overwhelming spread of words, pictures, and captions. Since reaching Elysium, news photography had come a long way. An enterprising nopon—perhaps a cousin of Tora's—had discovered a binding agent that allowed multicolored dyes and paper to adhere to ether energy itself. Mòrag did not quite understand the technology, but apparently the discovery allowed for quick, detailed images without bulky equipment. An added benefit was newfound ease when distributing photos en masse.

The proof shone up at her in the headline photo: a brilliant, full-color image of Zeke and her dancing. The photographer had timed the photo perfectly, too. The copied Zeke held his partner in a perfect dip, and both were smiling. If not for the dress in the photo—she was the first person to wear that design—Mòrag would not have recognized the woman as herself. She did not recall grinning so childishly.

More intriguing, however, was the headline and text that surrounded the image.

Mor Ardain's First Lady Prefers Exotic Men?

An All-Access Look at the Royal Gala, from the Special Inquisitor's Lover to the Boy Emperor's Secret Crush, Heartbreaks, High Fashion, & Everything Inbetween

Oh, to be held in love's sweet embrace, to dance the night away in the arms of a Tantalese prince-turned-pirate. And for Lady Mòrag Ladair, that dream became a reality at last evening's exclusive royal gala.

For our handsome bachelors, the night was nothing short of a competition for the lovely Inquisitor's affections. Lady Mòrag danced with every heartthrob our nation has to offer, including Core Crystal Weekly's Most Eligible Bachelor, Jedrek Carthaigh. But each hope was dashed the moment Lady Mòrag danced with His Royal Highness, Prince Ozychlyrus Brounev Tantal, more affectionately known as Zeke. The exotic prince won the most attention and the most dances—not two, not three, but six dances.

The dear prince and princess were already friends before the festivities—they're on a juicy first-name basis, in fact—thanks to their quest to find Elysium.

But don't miss the biggest scoop of all: now it seems they're friends with benefits.

We can't blame the prince, though. Lady Mòrag was an alluring vision of royalty in a Peatopaz Reserve exclusive navy gown (that's right ladies and gents, she wore a dress—see page 7 for a full look of the evening's fashion, including the Jewel's fiery look that is sure to be the newest trend).

Body language tells all, and Prince Zeke definitely enjoyed the bit of skin our first lady showed off. "He had his hands all over her," one partygoer says. "The magic was definitely there."

"Usually, the Inquisitor is all about personal space and propriety. But clearly the prince gets an exception."

An exception, indeed—Lady Mòrag and her gallant escort were last seen leaving the ballroom together. Neither returned to the party. But was it just a one-night stand? Or is a royal wedding on the horizon? We promise to be the first to know!

Meanwhile, His Majesty the Emperor…

Mòrag stopped reading and laughed. "This is what you're worried about? Brighid, everyone knows that Core Crystal Weekly is yellow journalism, purple prose at best. It's idle gossip, nothing more. Ninety percent of what Elodie writes is a lie...Wait. You don't honestly believe what she wrote, do you?"

Brighid shook her head, visibly disgusted by the thought. "No. But it doesn't matter what I think. You allowed Zeke to act like a fool, and now we potentially have an international scandal on our hands!"

"Brighid, nothing happened. We talked a bit, watched the fireworks, and then he left. I retired to my quarters alone. It was completely innocent. You're overreacting."

"Am I? Lady Mòrag, any suitors you might have had won't be returning to the palace if they believe you've already made your choice. You might as well marry him, because the local busybodies have probably already named your children."

Mòrag decided that now was not the time to tell Brighid about Zeke's marriage suggestion. She might as well throw salt in a wound.

"They are baseless rumors, Brighid. It's nothing a formal statement can't solve."

"By my core, I hope you're right. I will make arrangements with our public liaison." Brighid sighed. "Public scandal aside, though...the Emperor has arranged for you to have breakfast with our friends. They're expecting you downstairs."

"Excellent. I'll head there right away...Please join us if you can."

"Once I've managed to salvage your reputation, I'll be right down."

Mòrag folded over the newspaper and stashed it in the drawer beside her bed. The paper would provide her plenty of entertainment later. She never took much stock in Core Crystal Weekly; it was well-known as Alba Cavanich's gossip column. And ultimately, gossip proved impractical. But whenever a copy found its way to her, she always found it amusing—Elodie's work in particular. She and Elodie were classmates long ago, and since then, Mòrag had admired the woman's ability to make even the most mundane stories interesting, true or not. And she could use a good laugh right now, even if it was at her own expense.

She quickly pulled on her uniform, relieved to feel the familiar navy pants, blouse, and jacket. At first, she considered adding her armor, whipswords, and hat, but she decided against it. A quick tug on her gloves, and she was out the door, eager to get out of range of the livid Brighid.

Mòrag knew that most of her friends—with the exception of Nia—held their alcohol well, so she was not surprised that they were already engaged in boisterous conversation that she could hear halfway down the hall. Like her, they had all reverted back to their normal selves: Rex in his salvager suit, Nia's bright yellow jumpsuit, Tora's grease-stained overalls. Zeke and Pandoria were absent; Mòrag wondered if he'd already departed for Tantal.

"Mòrag! Join us for the eating!" Tora exclaimed, his mouth overflowing with half-chewed food. Before him was a giant bowl of tasty sausages. Whenever he visited, he demanded as many of them as the kitchens could manage, citing "ongoing compensation from Inquisitor" as his reason. If the nopon stayed too long, Mor Ardain would likely have a meat shortage on their hands.

She grabbed a bowl of glitterbake and a cup of black roast coffee, eager to get something in her stomach. The gala had not afforded her much time to eat. She took the empty spot next to Rex.

"That was some party, Mòrag. You should have a birthday celebration like that every year," Pyra volunteered. The Blade looked pleased that the Inquisitor had picked her dish from everything else on the table.

"It might take me a year to recover from the mere stress of it," she admitted.

"It would give us an excuse to visit every year. I wouldn't mind that," the redhead added.

"Speaking of which, how long will you all be staying in Mor Ardain?" Mòrag asked.

"I dunno," Rex volunteered. "I mean, it's a pretty long journey to get here. So to make it worth our while, I may hang around for a bit. See the new sights...not that your birthday isn't worth a journey, I mean!"

"I think I may just stay at Hardhaigh Palace for a couple weeks," Nia said between bites of snowbaby potato salad.

"Why?"

"So that way I don't have to come straight back for the wedding. Obviously."

"What wedding?" Mòrag raised an eyebrow, hoping to feign ignorance. Maybe, just maybe, her friends had not seen the papers yet.

"Yours and Zeke's. Oooh, it's gonna be great!" Kora giggled, electricity crackling around her head.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Mòrag insisted. "I haven't made a commitment to anyone yet. It's a huge decision."

"Oh save it, Mòrag. Us girls stayed up all night talking after the party," Kora said excitedly. "Pandoria told us everything."

"Like how Shellhead proposed on accident," Nia laughed. "What a dork."

"And anyway," Pyra began, "Your dances last night? Dead giveaway."

"So, Mòrag. Spill. You like, like Zeke, right?" Kora demanded.

Mòrag wished she could just disappear. The general public believing a newspaper was one thing. Little "scandals" about the royal family happened all the time; the public quickly lost interest. But her friends...they had the truth from Pandoria. No "formal statement" would make them believe otherwise. She owed them an explanation, at least. But an explanation was hard to give when she'd had no opportunity to sift through her own feelings—that would require solitude. And she needed to talk to Niall, too. Like it or not, she could not verbally confirm or deny the proposal until she had the Emperor's approval. Not even to her friends.

She did her best to adopt a business-like tone. "I don't like anyone. Not in the way you're describing, Kora. And that's not the point. If it even happened, this would be an arranged, political marriage. Zeke knows that as well as I."

"But you've got to feel something one way or the other! Like, does the thought of kissing Zeke make you go weak in the knees? Or does it make you want to barf?"

"Kora!" Rex chided. "That's a really personal question."

"The people want to know," Kora said eagerly, punctuating each syllable.

"My marriage aside," Mòrag said, eager to change the subject, "are you genuinely considering staying here for a while?"

Rex and Nia both nodded eagerly. Tora still had his face buried in his sausages.

"Auntie Corrine is all settled now. I can be away for a while in good conscience."

"And I'm still drifting. Some time in Mor Ardain could be nice."

"Then can I ask you all to help me again?"

"Of course," came the chorused reply.

Senator Carrow's thinly-veiled threats echoed in her memory as she told the group about Cor, from his initial arrest to his criminal history and his subsequent arrest. Then came all the dead-end leads that she had chased relentlessly in the days leading up to the gala. It was almost as though Cor stayed in one spot long enough to be spotted and then vanished. Even with Brighid's Keen Eye and Mòrag's own stubborn tenacity, they failed to find a workable trail. Perhaps, with a few extra hands, she might be able to apprehend Cor once and for all.

"A quest sounds fun!" Rex exclaimed. "I mean, I'm mad that this bastard keeps giving you the slip. But it'll be nice to go on an adventure together again, you know?"

"Calm down, rusthead," Nia smirked. "How soon do we leave, Mòrag?"

"In a few days, I hope. I have a few duties that I must attend to here in the capitol first."

"Got it." Rex nodded. "I can send for Azami. She'd probably be a big help on a mission like this."

"She gives me the heebie-jeebies," Kora whined. "Do not pair me up with her."

They spent nearly an hour discussing the expedition, and it almost felt like they were back on their quest to reach Elysium all over again. Back then, the stakes had been much higher, to be sure, but Mòrag almost wished they were trying to stop Malos instead. At least Malos' actions had been clear and predictable. Cor's plans were a mystery.

Their strategizing was interrupted halfway through when a courtier tapped Mòrag on the shoulder to summon her to the Emperor's presence. Mòrag was grateful that Niall took the initiative for the meeting; she might have spent half the afternoon working up the courage to go see him. Now she did not have a choice.

When she entered the chamber, Niall gestured to his courtiers and Aegeon, who exited with quiet, quick bows. Once they were alone, Niall relaxed his shoulders and sat down informally on the couch. The sight made Mòrag smile. Niall's advisors had vocally protested having any comfortable furniture in the council chamber; they contended it communicated weakness. Niall insisted. It was one of the first times he vocally resisted their counsel. She enjoyed seeing him begin to assert his authority—not of his office, but of his own individuality.

He nodded to the cushion beside him. "I trust you enjoyed some time with your guests this morning."

"I did. I was quite surprised that you invited them. But I am grateful for it."

"I thought their presence might bring a bright spot to an otherwise difficult evening. Speaking of which, I welcome your report."

"I am most concerned by what Senator Carrow—"

"I already know about the Senator, Mòrag. And he will be properly reprimanded for his behavior. I would like to know about the conversations I am not yet privy to."

"There is...one possibility that I believe we should explore. Tantal is also seeking an heir. Prince Ozychlyrus has broached the topic of a political marriage between our two nations. It is my opinion that we would be remiss not to explore the topic with your council, pending your approval, of course."

"Of course I will approve it...but only if you want me to."

Mòrag looked at him, unable to hide her shock. A marriage between two nations had dozens of repercussions: border disputes, military concessions, trade agreements, negotiations for which country the couple would live in, which throne any resulting descendants would have claim to and in which order...the list was endless. Niall's office demanded that he consider every last one of those factors. He could not, should not agree so quickly.

"Your Majesty, as Emperor, you must disregard my feelings and consider everything that is at stake here. This decision affects two entire countries."

"Damn my office, Mòrag," Niall retorted. "I was your brother long before I was Emperor. And as your brother, I must consider your happiness. You deserve it."

No, you don't. You deserve to be stuck with a toad for the rest of your life.

There it was again—that nagging voice that she tried so hard to bury. It had been silent for years, present only during her nightmares. But since the moment Zeke mentioned the possibility of marriage, the taunts carried over into her waking hours. She stifled a shiver.

"Mòrag. Please, tell me honestly. Do you want me to give my blessing?"

"...Yes. Given the circumstances, it is the best option available to me."

Niall broke into a grin. "Good."

"Wha…?"

"If the prince had not already done so, I myself was going to suggest it, what with your friendship and all," he explained. "And how could I not? Last night, he was the only man who managed to make you laugh. If I must sign off on any marriage, then I would much prefer it be with someone who already knows how to make you smile...I will present it to the council later today."

Mòrag managed a small smile of her own. "I wish Brighid had been as receptive."

"She'll come around. Now, I fear I must return to my work. There have been unsettling reports about a crime guild forming beneath Mor Ardain. We will, of course, be enlisting your assistance on the matter once we have more information. But for now, please enjoy some time with your guests. You are to take the rest of the day off. No exceptions, sister."

"As you wish, Your Majesty."

Mòrag did as she was told. Technically speaking, she had enjoyed a day off immediately before—and she loathed long leaves of absence—but nothing about the party was restful. An afternoon off was wise. It also granted her an opportunity to spar with Rex, who'd begged for a face-off at breakfast. They fought for a bit, and then Tora joined in. Nia was quick to follow, creating a chaotic four-way melee.

The untrained observer would have called it a standoff. But as the most experienced fighter of the group and the only one who had been fighting constantly since finding Elysium, Mòrag had the advantage. However, disarming the other three was not as easy as it had been. Tora's upgrades to Poppi enhanced his versatility. Nia had fully embraced the advantages of her Flesh Eater form. And Rex, well, a year had done wonders for his childish impulsiveness. Now he fought with a calculated style and the strength that naturally accompanied a six-inch growth spurt. In a year of peace, all three made impressive improvements.

Little did Mòrag know how vital those improvements would be in the coming days.

Four days later, they found themselves wandering the no-man's land between Uraya and Mor Ardain. Given the murky history between the two nations, both had agreed to establish a buffer between them. Not that Temperantia had helped much during Alrest, but since there was no more Torna to sabotage them, it was worth another try.

Unfortunately, Cor's trail led here...and dead-ended here. Mòrag warned the group to stay on high alert. Their treaty with Uraya allowed them to be here for official investigations. But to be spotted by an Urayan patrol with the Aegis's Driver and a Flesh Eater in tow could flare diplomatic tensions. The less attention they got, the better.

Mòrag hoped that with Focus, Keen Eye, Fortitude, and Clairvoyant Eye at her disposal, she would catch Cor before he could slither off again.

"There's got to be something to go on," Rex said, the usual optimism missing from his voice. "Azami, please. I swear I'll go on a date with you if you can manage to get us some clues."

Mythra gave the dark Blade (and her own Driver) a withering glare, but Azami still perked up at the thought. "Anything for my cutiepie Driver!"

Azami passed into her trance-like state for an uncomfortably long time.

"How does he keep doing this?" Mòrag could feel her nails digging into her palms despite her gloves. "These tracks...they can't be but an hour or two old. We should have him!"

"It's like he's just disappeared. Or flown away."

"Like in an airship?" Azami asked. Now that she was alert again, she looked visibly pleased.

"What do you mean?"

"I can't get much on this Cor creep," Azami confessed. "It's almost like the ether is intentionally blocking me from seeing him. But I did get one good view of him getting picked up here by an airship. Not more than a few hours ago."

"An airship? But that could only mean…" Nia's voice trailed off.

"He has help," Brighid finished the sentence for her. "It's beginning to look like there was more to those crime guild rumors than we thought."

"What Azami mean when she say that ether intentionally block the seeing?" Poppi asked.

"Do you remember those walls of darkness we encountered in the Spirit Crucible Elpys? It's a bit like that. When I try to use my eye to track Cor, all I see is a dark wall, as if someone is trying to block my view. But don't you worry, my darling Driver. He can't hide forever."

"It can't be," Brighid murmured.

"Are you all right? You look like you've seen a ghost," Mythra pointed out.

The fire Blade shook her head. "It's nothing."

The ability to block remote reconnaissance with ether...that sounded all too familiar to Mòrag. The talent was exceptionally rare; she only knew of one Blade that had it. Perhaps Brighid recognized it, too.

"Could it be another Blade, Azami?" Mòrag asked.

The clairvoyant Blade nodded, looking very much like a porcelain doll in the growing darkness.

"But Cor's not a Driver," Rex said.

"Not that we know of," Mòrag agreed. "But with Indol no longer rationing out Core Crystals and registering Drivers, there's no way for us to maintain a comprehensive list of who is and who isn't a Driver. He could be one now."

"Wait. So don't tell me that creep of a Praetor was actually good for something?" Nia sighed.

"But a Blade couldn't block Azami, surely. She's incredible." Rex ignored the warning glance the Aegis sent his way.

"Certainly not a common one. But...I do know of at least one Blade with such a power." Mòrag looked down at her toes. "One of my old instructors had a Blade who could block all remote ether attacks, reconnaissance included."

"You don't mean your old teacher is helping this guy, right?"

"That's impossible. He's dead. I thought that his Core Crystal had been returned to the palace vaults. But it's possible that the core was stolen or lost in our transfer to Elysium. That would be quite a loss," Mòrag explained.

"Either way, we've got to find him," Nia said. "But we won't make much progress in the dark. Should we make camp?"

The group nodded and set to work. While Azami dropped into another clairvoyant trance, everyone else remembered their tasks perfectly. Mythra allowed Pyra to take over to cook. Rex cleared away brush and started a fire. Nia found fish while Dromarch gathered herbs. Mòrag gathered water, and Brighid ensured that the surrounding area was safe. And as "punishment" for not helping prepare the dinner and camp, Tora and Poppi took the first watch while the rest of the group rested.

Perhaps Tora was still groggy from gorging on Tasty Sausages. Or maybe after a year of peace he'd forgotten how to stay alert past midnight.

Whatever the cause, Tora and Poppi fell asleep.

The noise of the airship did not wake them until it was directly overhead, rope ladders unfurled. For one sick, slow second, it was raining men and Blades. And then the chaos began.

Mòrag found herself flung from a sleeping nightmare into a waking one. Everything was dark, almost too dark. The air echoed with grunts, gasps, shouts, clashes of metal. She could not find her friends; the only friendly presence she felt was that of Brighid, her Blade's back hot against hers. At least low visibility did not prevent resonance. They stuck to small stabs with the swords. It was too dangerous to use the whips now—not knowing where her friends were, she risked losing them.

"Dark Rondo!"

Azami, in her element and wreaking havoc. That was one bit of good news. But everywhere else, all she could find was more enemies. They weren't Urayans; she knew that much. None of these men wore uniforms. But they moved in sync, as if they'd been informally trained on how to fight as a unit. Many were Drivers, but all of them seemed oddly comfortable in the dark, as if slithering in the shadows was normal to them.

"Mythra!" Rex shouted—not too far away, by the sound of it. "Light! We need light! Give us light!"

There was a sickening boom, like the sound of something collapsing in on itself. Then the forest erupted in flames.

Darkness was no longer the issue.

The Aegis, still Pyra, gripped her head with her hands. Flames licked at her fingertips. "Rex! I can't switch! My ether backfires. If I keep trying, I'll burn us all to death!"

"So much for hiding our presence from Uraya," Brighid said.

"Not the primary issue right now." Mòrag unleashed her whips. At least she could safely wield them now. "Nia! Wherever you are, we could use some water right now!"

"I'm a bit busy at the moment!"

A quick glance showed the Gormotti practically juggling weapons as she lurched back and forth between her own sword and Dromarch's twin rings, fighting off three opponents at once. Everywhere Mòrag looked, it was the same: far too many enemies and not enough friends. They'd been ambushed, overrun, and separated. And the fire was growing hotter by the second.

"Brighid, we've got to free up Nia. We'll be burned alive."

Nia and Dromarch seemed to understand the plan, too. The tiger leapt, swept up his Driver in his jaws, and leapt again, bounding away from danger to meet Mòrag and Brighid in the middle. Four against three proved much better odds, and once the immediate enemies had fallen, Nia was free to battle the flames.

It took three giant spheres of water to get the flames down to manageable cinders. She thoroughly doused the rest of the surrounding area, too. Wet kindling allowed Brighid and Pyra a little more freedom with their flames.

"Well done, Nia!" Tora exclaimed, bouncing to their side. Poppi rocketed along beside him.

"I'm not a human fire extinguisher, you know," she said. But she grinned at the praise. "Oi, Rex! Get your arse over here!"

Once they finally managed to regroup, the tides of the battle changed. Now they were focused, falling into their old rhythm. Mòrag and Tora held the defensive front, and Nia and Rex danced in and out with quick attacks. Nia adapted well to a non-healing role, but had Zeke and Pandoria been present, not one attacker would have been left standing.

When it was clear that the ambush had failed, a voice echoed from the loudspeaker of the airship above.

"Retreat, you useless fools!"

"That voice," Mòrag and Brighid said in unison. "It's him."

Cor's men dashed, retreating to their ship. Mòrag sprinted to follow them. If she could just get on that ship, she could overpower him, force it to land. This mess could be over. She cut her way through the fleeing men. It was working. Just a few yards more, and she could grab the ladder and ascend.

"Mòrag, look out!"

Bullets hailed down from the ship. Mòrag felt Brighid's shield burst into existence over her head, but she also felt bodies fell beside her.

"Ah-ah, my dear Inquisitor. Don't be fooled into thinking that I won't cut down a few of my own men to get to you," Cor taunted.

"Get down here and fight me yourself, you coward!"

"Someday soon. But not yet. My work here is done for now. By the way, my Boss said to tell you that he sends his regards."

"Who is he?" Mòrag demanded.

Cor simply laughed as the airship ascended out of reach, its black hull melting into the night sky. Before long the roar of its engine faded into nothing. Only the dull crackle of fading embers remained.

"He got away. Again."

"Damn it!" Rex punched a nearby tree. "Ow."

The group was silent for a moment as they gathered their scattered weapons and undamaged belongings, trying to process what had just happened.

"Poppi have many questions," the artificial Blade broke the silence at last. "How Cor get airship? Where is it his men coming from? And how they know we be here?"

"I don't know," Brighid said. "But that ambush was carefully calculated. They knew we'd be coming. Which can only mean…"

Mòrag clenched her fists behind her back. "We have a spy in Mor Ardain."