The scene was breathtaking in its beauty; all the flowers were magically in bloom and filling the air with their delicate fragrance despite the fact that the sun never broke through the perpetual veil of shadows that cloaked the city, white snapdragons, lilies and freesia as well as deep purple lilacs and irises. The aisle was a slate-gray cobblestoned pathway beneath a sprinkling of perfect white rose petals, leading up to a magnificent archway of white lattice along which violet clematis and white trumpet vine had grown together in interlocking fashion. The backdrop was similarly lovely, the palace gardens with their expertly-trimmed hedges and sweeping lawns and the back face of the Palace Most High rising up from the greenery in all its majesty. The view was in stark, almost surreal contrast to the scene playing out beneath the canopy of stunning flora.

It was Soleil standing there beneath the flower-encrusted archway, clad in the spectacular deep purple wedding gown that her handmaidens had labored ceaselessly for a tenday to perfect for the occasion; in Phendrana's opinion she had never looked more beautiful, her skin cream and roses and her hair braided into an elaborate plait that draped over one of her slender shoulders. The engagement ring she wore, a square-cut sapphire trimmed in glittering diamonds, was rivaled only by the high crown of platinum and blue diamonds that was nestled upon the dark strands, the jewels of the last Queen of Netheril that Melegaunt and Brennus's mother had worn when she became the last bride of High Prince Telamont. Soleil was a goddess wearing a look of panic and terror with the starmetal blade of the assassin resting precariously against her snowy white throat.

Phendrana knew he was trying to reason with the drow who held her hostage but the words were not audible; everything had the strangest misty quality to it, as though it couldn't possibly be real. It made Phendrana even more uneasy, for he knew he wasn't imagining the ordeal – nothing that made him feel this sick with horror could possibly be one of his own hallucinations or a trick conjured as some manner of twisted, cruel joke. Soleil's eyes were upon him, wide and golden as the sun in the desert and so desperate that he wanted to weep.

He knew he couldn't save her – knew it in the depths of his bones – but he couldn't find the words to tell her how sorry he was that she was going to die all on account of him.

"Not her," he heard himself saying, his voice lifeless and hollow and almost unrecognizable even to his own ears. "Take me instead." His own life was all he had to offer her, and he knew even that would not be enough.

The blade moved – the stroke was so smooth that Phendrana almost didn't see it. Then everything was crimson, and he was so mortified that he bent right over to retch –

Phendrana sat bolt upright in his bed then, his breathing wild and gasping though his heart was as eerily still as always within his chest and his entire body covered in a thin sheen of icy cold sweat.

It was morning; the bells were tolling within the spire of the Church of Shar, marking the start of early mass. Though he had slept more than he had since his strange dreams had started coming true he didn't feel at all rested; his eyelids were heavy and his mind felt foggy with lingering exhaustion. Still he didn't think he could go back to sleep even if he tried – this newest dream had been so lifelike that he had sworn for a few moments that it was truly happening, and he knew that sensation wouldn't fade anytime soon. Instead he flung the sweat-soaked quilt away from his legs and rose groggily to his feet, his eyes upon the gauzy curtain that separated his private washroom from his bedchamber.

He was still sitting in a hot, bubble-filled bath with his back too straight and his eyes gazing into nothingness when Lux came upon him half an hour later. "Phendrana? Are you alright?"

The doppelganger's eyes slid unwillingly back into focus and fixed themselves upon the fine china mug and saucer the Shadovar boy held in his hands. There was steam wafting from the mug and the faint scent of chamomile in the air, barely noticeable over the much stronger bouquet of lavender that clung to the bubbles drifting lazily across the scalding water; Phendrana reached one hand out to accept the mug and put it to his lips eagerly, ignoring the burning sensation upon his tongue as he drank. When he spoke his voice was as hoarse and distant as it had been in his dream and that frightened him. "I thought the bath might help calm my nerves."

Lux's fingertips were upon Phendrana's forehead, his eyes searching and clinical; the expression was one Lamorak might have worn as he endeavored to get to the bottom of his newest puzzle. Evidently he found something telling in Phendrana's face for in the next moment he was regarding the doppelganger with no small amount of concern. "You had another dream, didn't you?"

"Will it never end?" Phendrana murmured hopelessly, more to himself than his companion, his mood darkly introspective. "Do we face a ceaseless parade of assassins who will refuse to relent until they have eradicated every last one of us?" His hands lifted themselves from the water and he dropped his head into them, his damp fingers curled into claws as though he wished he could tear the images from his memory. "I know Prince Lamorak feels I have been given a gift and there is no denying that it has its uses, but I would sooner be rid of it. The ability to see the future is hardly a boon for me – whenever I sleep I have no choice but to glimpse the death of someone I care for. There is little I wouldn't give to stop these visions from plaguing me."

"I would take them from you if I could," Lux vowed softly, and the sincerity of the words coming from the ever-enigmatic child surprised Phendrana into silence. It was quiet for a long time as Lux sat there cross-legged at the edge of the bath and Phendrana stared through the cracks between his fingers at the crystalline bubbles skirting the surface of the water, and though Phendrana suspected Lux wanted very much to ask whose death Phendrana had seen he kept the inquiry to himself, for which the mindmaster was eternally grateful. "You have been summoned. I wanted to wait until you regained your composure before I mentioned it."

Phendrana lifted his head wearily. "By whom?"

"Fourth Prince Aglarel. He is waiting for you at Villa Hara and commands you to come right away. There has been… a development." The way Lux spoke the last two words made Phendrana wish he could remain ignorant on the matter, but the idea of deliberately avoiding a summons from Aglarel made Phendrana shudder with anxiety. Better he not keep the Fourth Prince waiting if he could possibly avoid it – he didn't want to be the reason for a flaring of Aglarel's foul temper.

Lux slunk back into the bedchamber, leaving Phendrana to towel himself dry and don his robes of gray-and-silver; when he returned to his private quarters there was an elegant garment draped over his immaculately-tidied bed, and he ran his fingertips over the fine fabric admiringly. The garment was white silk, roomy slacks and a shirt with a high collar and wide bell sleeves; the collar was cloth-of-gold, as were the cuffs that hung at his ankles and wrists, and on the whole was just as understated as Phendrana preferred. The most lavish piece in the entire ensemble was the cape that cinched at the right shoulder – golden like the most radiant sunshine and fluid like water to the touch. Were he wearing it he suspected it would drape down to his knee; the brooch that pinned it in place was an oval-shaped pearl set upon a spider web of golden filigree.

"What's this?" asked Phendrana blankly, tracing the face of the pearl with one fingertip.

"Your attire for the masquerade this evening," said Lux, and retrieving something from the desk he approached and held out his hand. "As well as this."

The mask he held matched the handsome clothing he had chosen, its face white alabaster with swirls of artistic gold etched along the cheeks; the outline of the eyes was buttery gold and flecked with glitter. Phendrana was glad to see that he would be able to breathe freely through his nose and that the lower half of his face wouldn't be encased in porcelain, yet he wondered if he would feel claustrophobic wearing it all the same. "I'm glad it's so… light," he confessed sheepishly with a rueful little smile. "I don't think I could stand to wear something black at a time like this."

"I thought as much," Lux agreed, his tone light and conversational. "I'm pleased that you like it, but for now I must insist that you be on your way. Aglarel was less than pleased when he called upon you."

"I wonder why?" Phendrana mused aloud, and with a sigh he entered the Shadow Realm and hastened in the direction of the Fourth Prince's familiar aura.

Aglarel was pacing the length of his bedchamber when Phendrana arrived, his head bowed and a scowl etched upon his face; he was alone, a fact that the doppelganger noted with a certain measure of discomfort – while he felt he was growing ever more used to Aglarel's company he privately admitted that the prince made him distinctly uneasy with his intensity. He didn't look around when Phendrana appeared, though he must have taken note of his presence.

"I suppose you will tell me that you didn't set foot within the dungeons last night," he said by way of greeting, "and further complicate this matter."

"The dungeons?" Phendrana echoed, taken aback. "Of course not. Why should I have?"

"I thought as much." Aglarel's pacing ceased but his body relaxed not at all, the set of his shoulders tense and wrathful. "An hour ago I returned to check on the drow we captured – he died sometime during the night."

The shock of this revelation was such that Phendrana stumbled, catching himself upon the corner of the desk and leaning against the surface for support; he could feel his eyes growing uncomfortably wide and knew that if he were still mortal the color would be draining from his face. "How can that be?" he gasped incredulously. "Was he not alone? Were the palace guards not keeping watch over him?"

"I have already questioned the guards," Aglarel spat, his expression suggesting that he did not find their testimonies particularly helpful. "They insist that they held their posts until dawn and that it is inconceivable that someone might have slipped past them in the night, but I suspect they were not keeping watch as closely as they should have been. There are enchantments woven into the walls of the dungeons that make shadow walking in and out of the place virtually impossible, not to mention a number of other countermeasures that would alert the guards if an intruder came too close. Whoever managed to bypass those enchantments must have known what to look for… I suspect one or more of the High Prince's advisors are responsible for this, but I have no proof to support my suspicions."

"Why did you ask if I had been there?" Phendrana inquired, dreading the answer.

Aglarel blew out a frustrated sigh and looked the doppelganger square in the eye, wearing an expression that was almost sympathy. "I have inspected the body – it seems his windpipe was crushed and he choked on his own blood. The blow was inflicted with significant force, but there is no bruising consistent with such an injury – it was not a physical assault, but a telekinetic one. The strike brings to mind your assault on Rapha two days past."

"I didn't," Phendrana protested numbly. "I swear it."

"Of course you didn't," Aglarel agreed impatiently, "but someone wanted us to think you had. Thus far I have been successful in keeping the particulars of Zek Vandree's death from reaching the ears of the other council members, but it can only be a matter of time before the truth becomes known to them – when it does, you will be implicated in this matter. Someone has framed you, though to what end I have yet to determine."

Phendrana was incensed at the thought but did well not to let it show; only the clenching of his hands into fists at his sides gave away his true feelings. "But who would do such a thing, and to what end?"

"I suspect Lim Tal'eyve is involved, but I still have no proof to support any of these theories – the drow has been careful up to this point to avoid any scandal attaching these events to his name." The helpless frustration Phendrana read in Aglarel's face was all too familiar to him, for he had been mired in it himself of late. "Lamorak tells me that you were admitted last night into Rapha's harem, and that Lim met with you – I must confess, it was a most ingenious plan."

"A pity it didn't amount to anything," Phendrana interjected, before Aglarel could gain any momentum. False hope was not something either of them were in the mood to contend with at present. "I made a fool of myself, no more."

"We must continue to wear away at Lim's resolve, that is all," said Aglarel determinedly. "He will slip up eventually, and when he does it will not escape our notice."

Phendrana found himself nodding along, but truth be told he was exhausted at the prospect of shadowing Lim's every movement for the weeks, months, or years it might take for the drow to make even one noteworthy mistake. He couldn't blame Aglarel and Aveil for steadfastly sticking to their crusade – after all, he didn't trust Lim any more than either of them did – but what if they were wrong after all? Wasn't there a possibility that Lim truly was dedicated to the Most High, as he had ceaselessly attested since the day of his transformation? Were they, Aglarel and Aveil and Phendrana himself, the real rebels within the City of Shade for opposing the inner workings of one of the High Prince's faithful?

"Yes," Phendrana agreed tiredly, for it was all he could bring himself to say on the subject without the risk of offending Aglarel, and at present he didn't think he had the will to defend himself if that were the case. He knew that his face was empty and vague, but he was still astounded when Aglarel read volumes into the doppelganger's extended silence.

"You've had another vision, haven't you?"

Phendrana blinked and made his eyes refocus. Aglarel was studying his face with great care, and Phendrana thought there might have been a faint trace of the hopelessness he felt somewhere in the depths of the prince's eyes. He nodded, crestfallen, unable to speak the words aloud.

"Who?" Aglarel's voice was oddly gentle. Far from finding such a tone disarming, Phendrana felt even more unnerved by it.

"Soleil." The doppelganger's voice cracked as he said her name, for in his mind's eye he was reliving the scene of her death with damning clarity.

Aglarel had never held much love for Soleil – as Phendrana understood it Aglarel himself had caught Soleil haunting the halls of the palace as a child, on errand for a secretive guild in Waterdeep whose mission was to eradicate the monarchs of Faerun whom they considered unjust – but even he seemed troubled by the news. It was no secret to anyone within Thultanthar just how much High Prince Telamont adored the princess-to-be, nor was his desire for his eldest son to begin producing heirs by her a surprise to anyone. "Do you know when?"

Phendrana nodded numbly again. "The wedding."

The Fourth Prince's face hardened as his resolve returned to him, and reaching up he caressed the small black amethyst that pierced his right ear with the pad of his index finger, saying, "Then we have more to do." Presently the prince's own shadow darkened and began to take on a shape all its own, heralding Aveil's arrival in their midst; she materialized only a few inches away from Aglarel and abruptly froze beneath the intensity in his gaze, though for a long moment neither could look away. Phendrana watched curiously as they drank in the sight of one another, and though their faces were carefully blank their eyes were tumultuous with unspoken emotions. Barely five seconds passed before they seemed to remember themselves, and simultaneously they put space between them as Aglarel addressed her. "While we prepare ourselves for the arrival of the drow whose mission it is to eliminate you, we must also take into consideration how best we might protect Soleil on the day of her wedding to Escanor. It is but days away now, and Phendrana has just informed me that he has glimpsed her death in a dream."

Aveil ran a hand down her face, looking just as haggard and flustered as they did; the shadowsilk dressing clung to her otherwise bare arm, though it didn't seem to be hindering her movement much. She was back in the skirt and corset ensemble she had worn the night previous, and for some reason Phendrana couldn't quite grasp it seemed Aglarel was determinedly looking anywhere but directly at her. "We must put an end to the schemes of these drow for good and all, for we are stretched so thin as it is that it can only be a matter of time before something of importance escapes our notice. You are certain it will happen on the day of the wedding?"

"Beyond any doubt," Phendrana confirmed. "She was in her wedding dress when I saw her. The first assassin that found his way into our midst, the one who came to murder the High Prince while he slept, was the one to kill her in my dream. In his hand was the same starmetal blade."

"This is monstrous," Aveil went on, her voice trembling. "To attempt to kill the bride-to-be of the High Prince's eldest son on the day of their union… This is unthinkable. Shar help us all if this heinous plot should succeed - the Most High will raze all of Faerun to the ground, and rule over a graveyard."

"Ignoring the obvious fact that that is the High Prince's birthright," said Aglarel smugly, "We will need to start discussing countermeasures to prepare for this possibility."

"Should we tell the High Prince?" Aveil suggested. "Or perhaps Prince Escanor?"

Aglarel considered that, stroking his chin thoughtfully with one hand. "I don't think we should act quite so drastically – the High Prince has great reason to be excited, and who can blame him? The marriage of his eldest son is something he has been looking forward to for many centuries now – best we do all that we can on our own, rather than risk spoiling the occasion for him. As for Escanor, I suspect he would only be angry with us. I have seen him little of late, and I suspect his beloved fiancée is the reason for his absence from most matters of council."

"Soleil should surely know then," Phendrana concluded, confident that this was the correct course of action. "It is her life in question here."

Aveil barked out a single harsh, cold laugh. "You would inform a woman of her seemingly inevitable death mere days from her wedding? Forgive me for saying so, but I find that unnecessarily cruel. Tell her if you must – I, for one, will not stop you – but do so at your peril!"

"Very well," the doppelganger snapped, irked by the Sceptrana's smug expression and the fact that they didn't seem to be taking his warnings very seriously. "I will go and tell her – she would rather stay well informed, I am sure, than find out later that she has been kept in the dark at unawares."

"As you will," Aveil continued to chuckle, and turning she bowed to Aglarel. "I will take my leave if it pleases you – I require some time to prepare for the masquerade."

"You are both dismissed," Aglarel told them stiffly. "I must go to the High Prince now and explain the death of Zek Vandree." His eyes strayed back to Phendrana then, who was moving for the balcony, and added, "You should keep yourself available for questioning. He might have need of your testimony, given the delicate nature of the drow's murder."

"Send for me if there is a need," Phendrana bade the prince compliantly, and turning in a slow circle he took his leave of them and made for the Shadow Realm. Once there he paused, running a hand down his face and pondering the business he had elected himself to complete. Had it been anyone but Soleil in question he might have considered handling the situation otherwise, but the mountebank was the truest friend he had had since coming to reside in Thultanthar and thought she would be grateful for the timeliness of his warning. If through his own actions her life was spared in the end, what would it matter if he caused her a few additional days of undue stress?

He paused when he reached the interdimensional tear that would lead him back into the Material Plane and into her private quarters, struck momentarily motionless with a sudden wave of intense guilt. It occurred to him that in the months since his transformation he had barely spoken with her – hadn't he once called her a great friend of his? He shook his head, silently castigating himself. He hadn't thought he had fundamentally changed since he had become a shade, but perhaps he was wrong about himself after all.

When he stepped through, the sight that met him froze him in his tracks. It wasn't anything particularly out of the ordinary – just Soleil and Escanor sitting very near one another at the dining table, enjoying a light brunch and chatting amiably together. As he watched Soleil laughed and pecked her husband-to-be swiftly on the cheek; Escanor's copper eyes twinkled down at her, obviously captivated by her exquisite charm. The scene simultaneously warmed Phendrana's insides with its heartfelt cheer and made him feel almost desperately lonely – once he had known a love like theirs, and in the absence of it he found that he envied them. He wanted to move forward and address them, but his feet wouldn't obey; he opened his mouth to speak a greeting, or a warning, or anything at all, but the words stuck in his throat and wouldn't come out.

In the end he fled back into the safety of the Shadow Realm without even announcing his presence to them, silently vowing that he would preserve their love even if it meant the death of him.

The rest of the day passed so uneventfully that Phendrana couldn't help his growing suspicion that something was bound to happen, but for once everything seemed almost serene within the Palace Most High. He attended the afternoon council session at the High Prince's request where the only topic was the newest details regarding the drow and their isolated assassination attempts, but even the High Prince had little to add. The news that Zek Vandree had been found killed earlier that morning seemed to shock no one – a fact that Aglarel seemed to note with great frustration, as he had been hoping to weed out the killer through vigilance alone, it seemed – and Telamont did not divulge any further details. Phendrana had been half expecting his sovereign to mention the cause of the drow's death offhandedly – he had silently been building up his defenses, preparing himself for the onslaught of fresh suspicion that would inevitably level his way – but Telamont chose to keep those details to himself and the council was left to guess at just how the drow had met his end. Phendrana was grateful for the High Prince's discretion, but intensely guilty all the same. Had he performed any great acts of kindness or valor in all his time serving the Princes of Shade that might have earned him such unshakeable trust from his sovereign? He certainly didn't feel that he had.

He busied himself with studying the faces of those around him and even occasionally allowing himself to read their surface thoughts when he felt confident that such an action would come at no risk to him, hoping that through such attentiveness he might gather some clues as to who may have committed the crime, but he gleaned very little from those around him. Soleil and Escanor were understandably distracted, so he spent little time reading into their thoughts; Hadrhune seemed to be brooding, though Phendrana couldn't see any cause to be concerned as that was the seneschal's natural state of thinking in his opinion. There was a general buzz of excitement mixed with tension that he understood well enough – the upcoming nuptials was the source of the elation, and the continued interference of the drow with no real resolution in sight left everyone's thoughts tinged with uneasiness. He focused on Lim as much as he could without arousing the drow's suspicion, but Lim was just as genial as Phendrana had come to expect and neither his thoughts nor his expressions gave anything away. Mostly he watched Brennus, trying not to be hideously obvious about it, fascinated with the youngest prince's unwillingness to offer his opinion on any issue and by the blank, empty expression that seemed to have been frozen upon his once-emotive face. He might have spoken once during the course of their meeting, and even then his voice was a hollow, monotonous thing that reminded Phendrana not at all of the man he had once loved beyond logic or reason.

All in all he was more dejected after the council session than he had been before and returned to Villa Tareia only because he felt he had nowhere else to go, grateful, as he always was, that he could at least expect Lux to be awaiting his arrival when he returned; naturally when he stepped into his bedchamber and found it to be empty his spirits fell, but there was something else awaiting him. It appeared to be an expertly-carved box constructed of cherry wood, so recently made that he was able to brush a few stray wood shavings off the lid when he reached out one hand; undoing the simple bronze latch he lifted the lid to find a single sheaf of parchment had been laid overtop the contents of the package, bearing only two words written in an unfamiliar hand.

A gift.

Beneath the heavy parchment, nestled upon a bed of black velvet, was a delicate silver circlet in the fashion of interlocking tree branches. There was a single stone embedded in the crevice where the branches met, a triangular-cut, pale orange topaz the size of his thumbnail; its face was perfectly smooth but the facets formed a starburst pattern, giving the illusion that its depths were endless. He rolled the accessory over in his hands with exaggerated care, examining it at every angle, fascinated and flattered and curious all at once.

The door opened very quietly, a sure sign that Lux had arrived. "Do you require any assistance readying yourself for the masquerade, Phendrana?"

The doppelganger ignored the question, stroking the glittering gem with a fingertip. "Lux, who has been in my chambers today?"

"To my knowledge, no one." The Shadovar boy crept to his side, pinching the heavy sheaf of parchment between his thumb and forefinger and lifting it to his eye level to inspect it. "Why?"

Phendrana wordlessly held out the shining circlet; Lux's eyes grew wide as saucers . "Do you recognize the handwriting?"

Lux was shaking his head even before Phendrana had finished his sentence. "I don't, unfortunately, though I am rarely out of the villa for any reason. I can tell you that no one who resides within this residence has written this note – I would most certainly have seen if they had."

Phendrana replaced the circlet upon its plush velvet liner but didn't shut the lid of the box, admiring the piece despite his sudden sorrow. A part of him had hoped at first glance that perhaps the gift had come from Brennus, and abruptly he was furious with himself for even considering such a distant possibility. Why would Brennus give him anything when he could hardly spare him a glance?

"Will you wear it?" Lux inquired softly, and Phendrana found himself nodding unconsciously.

"Yes, I think I will."

In the end he departed for the Palace Most High on foot and unaccompanied – he had thought to go with Aglarel and Aveil, perhaps, but hadn't heard from either of them since the council meeting had adjourned and supposed there was a reason for their absences. There were lanterns lining the cobblestoned pathway leading to the great palace gates, magically lit in hues of cerulean and jade and magenta and chartreuse, and when he drew up to the gates the guards bowed him inside most graciously. Unused to such treatment he stumbled over his own feet a bit as he struggled to regain his bearings, and suddenly felt nothing but grateful that he had come alone – surely he was the most uncoordinated shade that had ever existed.

The main hall was similarly lit with lanterns in a menagerie of whimsical colors; he followed the path of faerie lights, drawn by the faint sounds of music and soft voices and the tinkling of glasses. He remembered well where the ballroom resided in relation to the rest of the palace – it was the first place he had visited even before he had pledged to serve Telamont, drawn by invitation to celebrate the High Prince's birthday. Memories engulfed him as he approached, the most poignant of which were talking with Brennus in a private side hallway regarding the rumors of Lim Tal'eyve's return and then taking on the guise of Kiora Silvenstorm and dancing with him as though he hadn't a care in the world. Even his friends had been with him then – Rosalles, Aust, Aidan, and Ivy – but he didn't feel remorse as he thought of them now. So much had changed… He had changed. If only he had known just how different his life would be now, not even two years later.

The doors were thrown wide when he reached the ballroom, surprised that his feet had carried him so far while he reminisced; there were six guards flanking the doors on either side with weapons in hands and Phendrana was certain he would have to remove his mask to prove his identity, but just as the gate guards had done they bowed almost reverently and moved aside for him. Phendrana had to concentrate on not tripping this time, and was relieved when he managed it.

There was a herald at the top of the staircase that would down to the spacious ballroom, and when Phendrana's foot hit the topmost stair on his descent the man clacked the butt of the scepter he held against the cool black marble underfoot and bellowed an introduction over the pleasant din below. "Lord Phendrana, Mind of the Most High, Hero of Thultanthar."

Phendrana wasn't certain he had ever been so embarrassed, and kept his eyes locked upon his feet in an effort to avoid the eyes he felt upon him. Lux had assured him he looked quite dashing in his white satin cloth and his golden cape draped over his right arm; he had even gasped when the doppelganger had donned the shining silver circlet, murmuring beneath his breath that Phendrana might easily be mistaken for royalty. With all that in mind as he reached the bottom of the staircase and at last lifted his head he wondered if Lux had been right after all, for the lesser nobles of the Upper District gathered closest to the stairs all murmured appreciatively and bowed when his eyes swept over them.

There was something both intensely humiliating and oddly empowering about that, and for some reason Phendrana felt comforted by the thought that his face was partially concealed by the mask he wore.

He accepted a glass of Netherese heartwine from a passing waiter and kept to the furthest reaches of the ballroom, taking in the extravagant surroundings and the lavish costumes the other guests wore. There were a few tables lining the outermost edges of the ballroom floor but few people were seated, preferring instead to mingle with the other nobles or whirl gracefully around the dance floor; those who were seated were being fawned upon by waiters who were constantly weaving through the crowds with trays laden with the most exquisite dishes the doppelganger had ever laid eyes on. Even the high table where the High Prince and his court sat, now set with seventeen great thrones all facing toward the festivities, was completely vacant, and Phendrana wondered vaguely if he was the first among the High Court to arrive or if others were already here mixed in with the crowd of masked partygoers. Nestled in the northwestern corner a string quintet had set up – two violins, a viola, a cello, and a double bass – and were playing sweet music at a low volume that easily allowed for conversation. There were handfuls of the same fanciful lanterns magically suspended high above each of the tables, and still more adorning the grand chandelier overhead; they provided the only light in the hall, a subtle mixture of sapphire and emerald and lavender and auburn that cast everything they touched in a flattering and mysterious light. Phendrana passed beneath a cluster of jewel-green lanterns as he meandered about the hall and was for a moment mystified by the effect the light had upon his glittering golden cape.

The herald clacked his staff upon the floor. "His Royal Majesty Lamorak, Third Prince of Shade, Determinist Prime – and the Lady Irileth." Phendrana turned back and lifted his gaze to the top of the stairs as he, and all the rest, witnessed the prince's descent.

And truly, it was the most regal the Determinist Prime had ever looked. His dress was much akin to Phendrana's, slacks and a long-sleeve button down that appeared to be hand-spun silver satin, cuffs and collar both a deep navy; he wore high black boots that nearly reached his knee as well as a floor-length cape of a dark blue that was fastened to his shoulders with two glittering sapphires whose endless facets brought to mind the deepest depths of the ocean. The mask he wore covered the upper half of his face, silver near his eyes and lightening to white as it rose, one side flared like flames in a hearth; the crown upon his head was platinum adorned with sapphires, five in all and each a priceless treasure. The girl on Lamorak's arm appeared to be quite young for a Shadovar, her skin an ashy gray and her eyes the color of moonstone; her hair was pinned back from her face in loose curls, and both her gown and her mask were a warm teak. Phendrana approached them when the crowd had cleared and spread his hands as he bowed, but Lamorak laughed and drew the doppelganger up straight with his free hand.

"A fine evening to you, friend," Lamorak said warmly, and Phendrana couldn't help but smile. The prince indicated the lady he escorted with one hand, saying, "May I introduce to you my daughter, Irileth. She is both a senior Determinist at the guild and a member of the Assassin's Guild, sometimes a personal attendant to my brother Aglarel."

Phendrana took Irileth's hand and placed a polite kiss against her soft skin. "Madam, it is a pleasure to meet you." He looked back and forth between them, briefly assessing, before adding, "The resemblance is most pronounced."

"You are very kind," said Irileth with a smile and a curtsy. "I have been told that I favor my father in many ways." Someone called her name then and she cocked her head to one side, taking in the small group of lesser nobles who had hailed her, and finished, "Father, with your permission."

"Of course," Lamorak told her graciously, and with a last wave at Phendrana she released her father's arm and moved to join her friends; Lamorak turned back to face the doppelganger, taking in his formal garb with a practiced eye and nodding as though pleased. "You are every bit the man the High Prince insisted you would be one day, Phendrana. No one can question that you belong here."

"Yet some of them still do," Phendrana joked with a wink, and it was Lamorak's turn to laugh. "Shall we walk?"

They moved through the surrounding droves of nobles, ignoring those bowing and offering other gestures of obeisance as they passed; Lamorak walked right at Phendrana's side, almost shoulder to shoulder as they bypassed the most congested portion of the ballroom floor and made for the outermost edges of the great hall. Phendrana sipped occasionally at his wine and Lamorak politely declined a glass of his own when offered one by a passing waiter – generally he preferred not to drink – and didn't speak for quite some time; the doppelganger found the silence to be comfortable and companionable and not at all disconcerting. It wasn't until they had completed one full circle around the perimeter of the spacious ballroom at their leisurely pace that Lamorak spoke again.

"I am sorry, Phendrana."

The doppelganger blinked and glanced askance at his companion. "What reason do you have to be sorry?"

Lamorak sighed. "First, I have something of a confession to make. I wasn't going to divulge this much to you, but it was I who arranged to have that circlet sent to you."

Phendrana nodded numbly, unable to quite keep the surprise from his face. Hearing the admission aloud made him realize that subconsciously a small part of him had suspected as much from the beginning, but one thing didn't make sense. "Why would you do such a thing? This treasure is fit for a king, and you and I both know that I rank somewhere far below such a station."

Lamorak seemed to weigh his answer carefully for several moments before he responded, and even then his voice still maintained a note of uncertainty. "Fortune has not favored you since your transformation, though it is obvious that these circumstances are far beyond your control. I have watched you struggle with your plight for months now, and even despite your hardships you continue to prioritize the safety of the High Prince and his retainers uncomplainingly. I, for one, greatly admire your devotion and loyalty. Though the Most High has seen fit to bestow upon you titles and positions of power, I thought I would personally thank you for your efforts."

Phendrana lifted his wine glass to his lips and took a drawn-out sip to disguise his momentary speechlessness; when he lowered the glass there was a protest on his tongue already. "You have my gratitude, of course, but I – "

"Please," Lamorak interjected gently, halting their leisurely pace and holding up one hand to stay the rest of the doppelganger's objections. "I am well aware of your knack for selflessness – it is in your nature, I have found, to give all of yourself to a cause and take very little for your efforts in return – but I must insist that you accept this gift without complaint. You have given up so much to serve us, so much that I constantly find myself in awe of your integrity – few people would have approached an alliance with the Princes of Shade with such devotion. Not only that, but it grieves me to think of all that you have lost in the days since you became a shade… the trust of many fellow council members, a great deal of your mental fortitude, and the love of someone you cared deeply for. I know that material possessions cannot erase the hurts you have suffered at our hands, but I hope that when you wear that circlet you are at least reminded that you have my appreciation, and my support."

There was little Phendrana could say in reply, and for his part his protests were completely forgotten. Lamorak smiled back at him sheepishly and hitched his shoulders once as though mildly embarrassed by his speech, and reaching out he clapped Phendrana companionably upon the shoulder once. "I suppose I will not argue further," Phendrana conceded darkly, and Lamorak actually laughed. "It seems you will not hear a word I have to say to the contrary!"

Lamorak squared up to face him then, and said something the mindmaster knew he would never forget. "I believe your intentions to be pure, and I know that the course you now find yourself on is a righteous one. So long as I have the ability to aid you in your endeavors, rest assured that I will do so."

It was the kind of declaration that would have made Phendrana's eyes misty if such a thing were physically possible for him. "Would that I had something to offer you in return for your support."

"Your loyalty," Lamorak suggested gently, "and your friendship. That is all I ask."

Phendrana nodded once in acquiescence and took the step that would get them started again at their leisurely pace, but then his vision exploded into stars and an entirely different reality came to pass before his wide, unseeing eyes.

It was very, very dark; the only light he could make out came from a tall bronze candelabra lit with a dozen sputtering, dripping candles. The faint illumination cast a soft golden glow upon a crude, quickly constructed altar the likes of which he didn't recognize, and the effects that had been gathered were clearly meant to aid in some manner of ritual but he was incapable of naming each individual implement. On the altar was bound a shade that he couldn't immediately recognize, and standing above the prone shadow-swathed figure was a stocky female drow whose eyes burned crimson with livid flame; a scourge of writhing vipers was sheathed upon her hip, and in her hand she clutched a ceremonial dagger whose hilt was fashioned in the likeness of a black widow spider.

"At last," said the drow, her lips curling into a sadistic grin of victory, her fingers coiling and uncoiling maniacally around the hilt of the dagger. "You cannot comprehend how I have anticipated this moment… The moment when I will at last eliminate you as the Spider Queen has commanded me! The plague you have brought down upon our people will be no more, and you will burn in the eternal fires of the Nine Hells for all eternity! Look at me, you wretch! Gaze into my eyes as the life leaves your body!"

She plunged the dagger down into the shade's chest, laughing in exultation as the barbed legs of the dagger's hilt stretched and came alive; the arachnid's eight extremities dug into the shade's flesh, flinging wisps of shadow essence everywhere in their frenzy to feast on what dwelled beneath the skin, biting mercilessly again and again. And when at last it seemed the spider's legs had latched onto something the drow smiled with sadistic pleasure and tore the weapon free of the shade's chest, and Phendrana glimpsed something he had never seen before. It appeared to be a mass of concentrated shadowstuff, but animated, alive; it was thousands of strands of purest shadow writhing helplessly within the cruel barbs of the dagger, pulsing as though possessed of a life all its own, and as the shade's amber eyes gazed lifelessly at the sky Phendrana came to understand what he was seeing.

A shadow orb.

He sucked in a breath so suddenly and violently that his lungs ached, and that sensation alone was enough to drag him back to the present moment. He was no longer surrounded by masquerade attendees but standing in the shadow of a wide pillar at the far edge of the room, completely out of sight; Lamorak was standing over him, one hand clutching his shoulder and an expression of deep concern chiseled into his features.

"What did you see?" Lamorak demanded in a hoarse voice, and Phendrana struggled to stand up straight.

"We were wrong," he gasped out, replaying the gruesome image over and over in his mind as though terrified to forget even the most insignificant detail. "All this time we were convinced they were allies but he is as much a target as the rest of us. We've been wrong all along."

"I don't – " Lamorak started to protest, but Phendrana overrode him.

"The drow really are coming after Lim Tal'eyve – the Spider Queen herself has commanded it!"

Soleil and Escanor had just made their grand entrance to a round of uproarious applause, the First Prince regal and magnificent in his black glass armor and his bride-to-be radiant in a stunning orange gown that brought to mind the blaze of a setting sun; Aglarel was standing near the arranged line of thrones and sharing a quiet word with Dethud when the herald's staff clacked upon the marble and demanded Aglarel's attention. "Lady Aveil Arthien, Sceptrana of Thultanthar." Seemingly of its own volition his head swiveled in the direction of the stairs and he laid eyes upon her, momentarily stunned into silence at the sight of her descending into their midst.

The evening gown she had chosen was that majestic violet that matched her soul-searching eyes, and just the sight of that color transported him back to the days when he could have counted on her to have a snide remark on the tip of her tongue for every word he said that she didn't like, or a sour expression that suggested she thought she was too good for any of them, or an innuendo for no reason at all but to get men's hearts racing. His eyes leisurely wandered the length of her gown, taking in the provocative slit up one shapely thigh and the bejeweled bodice with its single thin shoulder strap and its rakish, suggestive angle; when she moved even an inch the light refracted off each individual stone in her dress, throwing indigo sparkles in all directions. She wore a half-moon mask that covered the left half of her face in silver porcelain and purple sequins and glitter, and there were crystals pinned in her hair.

"By the grace of Shar," Dethud murmured beneath his breath, tracking Aveil's progress down the stairs a little too closely with his own eyes. "There is no denying that she is a vision… It is no wonder that her past is littered with the bodies of ill-fated suitors."

Aglarel was hardly paying attention; truth be told his eyes were focused over Dethud's shoulder on a point about fifty feet away, where High Prince Telamont was engaged in amicable conversation with his eldest son and soon-to-be daughter. Telamont was quick to return his gaze and the Fourth Prince held perfectly still as his sovereign searched his soul with those ethereal platinum eyes, his expression blank and unreadable, his thoughts carefully withheld. For his part Aglarel couldn't imagine what his face might have looked like, but wondered if it held even a hint of the predatory possessiveness he felt. After a moment that seemed to last an eternity, the High Prince offered him the smallest of imperceptible nods.

That was all it took for Aglarel to excuse himself from Dethud's company and cut a swath through the throng of masked nobles, hardly slowing as they scuttled to vacate his path and responding not at all to their hurried murmurs of apology. There was something undefinable in him that desired to be the first person she laid eyes on the moment her feet reached the bottom of the stairs. So purposeful was his stride that he reached the staircase before she had even completed her descent.

Aveil stood poised a few stairs from the bottom with her right hand resting upon the winding guardrail, her mouth slightly agape and her eyes a fraction wider than usual as she surveyed him. The attire he had chosen was darkest red trimmed in his characteristic somber black, slacks and long-sleeved button-down whose cuffs he had rolled up to his elbows and high, supple black boots that were but a whisper upon the wooden floor of the ballroom. The black cape he wore was hooded but it rested upon his shoulders comfortably, allowing for the wear of both his simple crimson domino mask and the jagged platinum crown he wore; the crown was of unusual make, its points bringing to mind the unbroken line of a mountain pass, its peaks tipped with trilliant-cut rubies that were just a shade lighter than jet. Truth be told he hated wearing such formal attire and any token that belied his elevated station, but he loved the Most High and wanted to see him appeased in all things.

They continued to stare at one another, silently appraising, until at last Aglarel lifted one hand palm-up and held it perfectly still not six inches from where Aveil's hand was still poised upon the bannister. Her eyes flitted to his hand momentarily but did not linger in moving back to his eyes; the suspicion in her face was easy to read. "Do you dance?" she asked, seeming bemused by the prospect, but Aglarel didn't laugh and his eyes hadn't strayed from her face.

"I am a Prince of Shade," he answered simply, as though that should settle the matter.

She weighed his answer silently for a moment, brooding over all that that might mean, and for his part Aglarel was patient as she sifted through her thoughts – she was a mortal, after all, and far more prone to indecision than he. After a moment's hesitation she lifted her hand and placed it in his own, and Aglarel guided her the rest of the way down the gently-curving staircase. Crowds parted to allow them passage, murmuring words of greeting and flattery; Aveil beamed back at them and offered a polite curtsy of her own though she hardly slowed as she kept pace with Aglarel. Privately, Aglarel admired her - often he forgot that she had been born into royalty herself, but in circumstances such as these one couldn't hope but wonder. There was something innately noble in the shape of her face, something refined in even the most insignificant movements she made, that served as a sound reminder.

"You came alone," Aveil remarked as they drew nearer to the ballroom floor.

"And you did the same," Aglarel pointed out.

Aveil lifted her chin a fraction, her expression proud; the crystals in her hair caught the light of a floating lantern overhead, transforming the gems momentarily into pale amethysts. "No one requested the pleasure of my company, but surely the same cannot be said of you."

Aglarel shrugged, the motion sending a ripple through his fine black cape. "No one I cared to be seen with inquired after my company, and so here I am." They had reached the edge of the ballroom floor; Lim, Hadrhune, and Rapha, grouped together on his extreme right side and partially concealed by the buzzing crowd, were all watching them with open curiosity and blatant loathing. Aveil seemed not to notice them, and Aglarel steadfastly ignored them. "Do you dance, Aveil?"

She considered that for a moment before laughing openly. "If memory serves, the last time I engaged in any such activity was many years ago. I attended the wedding of Prince Juraviel Valiente of E'lastamor, whose younger sister Ria was once one of my traveling companions and a dear friend. I suspect you have had reason to dance far more recently than I."

"Oddly I think you may be right," observed Aglarel, and with a deft turn of his wrist he maneuvered Aveil around until they stood facing one another; his free hand pressed against the small of her back with exacting pressure and drew her nearer, and Aveil allowed her other hand to rest gently upon his chest. To her credit, her fingertips did not tremble when she touched him; Aglarel couldn't help feeling surprised and more than a little pleased, for most mortals could hardly stand to be in such close proximity to him. "Shall we?"

Aveil nodded once, and they set off in time to the soft chaconne of the string quintet.

The grace with which Aglarel moved was surprising, but Aveil recalled his natural aptitude for stealth and thought she could see just how dancing came so naturally to him. Such was his strength that it seemed her feet hardly touched the floor, though somehow Aveil trusted him not to lead her astray and her faith was rewarded as they made their way across the ballroom. For a long time they did not speak, content merely to stare into one another's eyes, and time passed without meaning in the absence of the beat of Aglarel's heart beneath Aveil's hand to mark the seconds.

When Aglarel at last spoke his voice was low but intense. "Have you readied yourself to fight this drow conjurer?"

Aveil nodded solemnly. "She will not best me, on my honor as Sceptrana of Thultanthar."

Aglarel smirked, pleased with her response. "If your rout of Zek Vandree may serve as any indication, I have no doubt that your claims will prove true." They turned a graceful ninety degrees, his cape rippling about them and the hem of the Sceptrana's dress trailing around her ankles; Aglarel's eyes strayed from hers for a moment before snapping back upon her face as he chuckled beneath his breath. "It seems we have earned ourselves a rather hostile audience."

Tossing her hair over her shoulder Aveil allowed her eyes to cut through the crowd to the point over her right shoulder that the prince had indicated, quickly taking note of the audience of which he had spoken; Lim, Hadrhune, and Rapha were grouped just outside the perimeter of the ballroom floor, watching them dance and wearing expressions ranging from curiosity to disgust to blatant hatred. Though she knew it would be in poor taste to do so, Aveil couldn't help rolling her eyes in their direction before turning back to face the Fourth Prince. "I can only speculate as to the conclusions they've drawn."

Much to her surprise, Aglarel's first reply came in the form of a heavy sigh; when he spoke his voice was tired, far more so than she thought she'd ever heard it. "I grow weary of guessing at the intentions of everyone around me. I am less than fond of such games. I have half a mind to confront them all and end these pointless charades."

Aveil's eyes were searching, speculative. "I understand your frustrations for they are often my own, however I feel I must caution you against such confrontations. The success of many of our pursuits relies upon our ability to keep our true feelings to ourselves – if they become known, our positions on many matters run the risk of being made public. Are you prepared to answer to the High Prince if the knowledge that we are secretly working against Lim reaches his ears? Will you declare Lim your adversary openly, knowing that in doing so you must also stand against all those who now name themselves his supporters?"

"Has our aim not been to protect the Most High all along, no matter the cost?" Aglarel questioned back, his voice pitched lower now in an effort to keep their conversation private despite their very public surroundings. "Surely we must not also extend the hand of false friendship to those who are in a position to do him the most harm?"

"There is a difference between being in a position to cause harm," Aveil reminded, "and actually causing any harm." Seeing that she was about to lose Aglarel to his mounting frustrations she squeezed his hand tightly, the only physical gesture of reassurance she could offer him without drawing any attention; already there were far too many eyes marking their every step than she would prefer, wondering, she supposed, at their camaraderie – if you could even call it that. Fortunately Aglarel's eyes returned to hers and seemed a little less hostile than before, and she dared to continue. "Don't misunderstand me – the idea of befriending Lim is as loathsome to me as it is to you, perhaps even more so, but we will gain nothing in confronting him now. We are no closer to proving his involvement in these attacks than we were when they first began – we have our suspicions, of course, but we have no proof. Until we have that, what can we do but keep our silence and prepare ourselves for any scenario?"

For a moment that Aveil wasn't quite certain she hadn't imagined, all of Aglarel's characteristic cool composure slipped and the helplessness in his face was apparent; for Aveil, this expression was somehow far more terrifying than being in the presence of his rage. "I cannot make you understand," he began, his voice reflecting but a fraction of the self-torment he must have been subjecting himself to. "The idea that through my own actions I might one day land myself at odds with my sovereign… I cannot bear the thought. He is everything to me… He is the very epicenter of my world… Without him, I would be nothing. He has given me all that I have and all that I am and this is how I repay him?"

It wasn't the first time Aveil had felt so convinced that there was far more to Aglarel in comparison to his brethren, but she knew that now would be a poor time to address her own selfish curiosity. Instead she said, "You are repaying him with your diligence and devotion. It is a fine line we walk between duty and insurrection, but you mustn't lose sight of why we are doing this – remember that the repercussions will be far direr in the event that our suspicions one day prove right but we did nothing to act on them. Had I thought you were opposing the High Prince's wishes maliciously I might have protested your intentions, but I know the truth of your actions. I know that all you do is for the good of this realm."

There was one thing still that didn't make sense to Aglarel, one thing that hadn't made sense from the very beginning; he drew her even closer, marveling at just how slight she felt in his arms, and growled, "Why do you risk everything you have gained simply to satisfy my agenda? We may be in agreement on these matters, but that is still no reason for you to open yourself up for future scrutiny. You are not of Thultanthar, and furthermore you have transgressed in the past - the consequences will be far more severe for you if things go ill for us."

Aveil snorted as though hardly intimidated by anything he had said, and instead answered his question with an inquiry of her own. "Why did you stake your reputation on my advancement? Were you not in a similar situation – little to gain and everything to lose?"

"I knew that after all you had been through you would be of great use to the enclave if you could only rein in your pride," Aglarel reminded her disdainfully. "Perhaps it seemed that the risk for me was high, but you could also say that I knew how these events would play out even before they had."

"Precisely why I feel the need to take such a risk for you in return," Aveil explained patiently. "I know in my heart that we are right – and even if by some fell design we are not, I owe it to you to support you. As I told you once before, were it not for you sometimes praising me I would most likely still be a prisoner at the mercy of the High Prince, with no status and little fortune to my name. I owe you all that I have, and all that I am, don't you see?"

Aglarel hadn't the first idea how to respond to such a heartfelt statement, but it was just as well; in the next moment Lamorak had appeared at his elbow, the portion of his face that was unmasked looking unmistakably grave. "Brother, Sceptrana, I fear I must disturb you – Phendrana has had another vision."

"Of course he has," snapped Aglarel tersely, rolling his eyes, but Lamorak ignored him.

"It's a little more complicated than that… This most recent vision absolves Lim Tal'eyve of all doubt." At Lamorak's words Aglarel and Aveil sprang apart, eyes wide and disbelieving, and the Determinist Prime heaved a sigh before finishing, "He is the next target. There is a drow priestess coming here who means to rend his shadow orb and sacrifice him to the Spider Queen."

Aveil stared up at the Fourth Prince evenly, watching as realization dawned and transformed his expression into something sour, and knew that on this issue they would never see eye to eye. Though it pained her to place herself at odds with him, she knew what needed to be done. "Prince, we must warn him. If this priestess catches him at unawares – "

"Let her," Aglarel spat, his voice saturated with poison. "She will be doing us a grand favor by eliminating him – it will erase any suspicion that may already be surrounding us."

"And his deal with the High Prince?!" Aveil reminded him hotly, stamping her foot so that her heel sounded a jarring clack upon the wooden floor, her hair quivering in loosely-curled ringlets around her flushed face. "How do you expect he might make good on his end of the bargain if we allow him to die now?! Do you think the Most High will be pleased when he finds out that he voluntarily gifted the power of the shadow to a drow when his motivation for doing so becomes null and void?!"

"The High Prince entered into this ridiculous agreement fully expecting the drow to fail!" Aglarel reminded her in a dangerously low voice that suggested he was struggling reining in his own mounting anger. "The loss will be a minor inconvenience at worst!"

Aveil sucked in a breath and stood her ground, delivering what she knew would be the winning blow in their argument. "Are you prepared to shoulder the blame, then? Will you risk your reputation, your credibility, the High Prince's centuries-long trust in you, all because your misplaced prejudice kept you from making the right decision?"

Aglarel's eyes narrowed dangerously and his arm flashed, impossibly fast, but before the blow could land Lamorak reached out and seized his brother by the wrist to stay his hand. Aveil stood between them, alternating looks of gratitude for Lamorak and betrayal for Aglarel; the Determinist Prime stepped forward, his face mere inches from his brother's, his voice dripping with disappointment. "How dare you," he growled. "How dare you even attempt to strike this mortal, who not only has our sovereign's favor but has devoted herself completely to your endeavors. I am ashamed of you. This is not how we treat those whom we call friends." With that Lamorak released him, and Aglarel snatched his hand back with a wounded expression; Lamorak studiously ignored him and glanced down at Aveil with a kinder expression. "Sceptrana, allow me to apologize on behalf of my brother. He does not always think and is prone to acting entirely out of anger."

By then Aveil had composed herself, and did not even comment on Aglarel's violent outburst. "Take me to Phendrana," she requested. "I will go with him to share what he has seen with Lim. I will work to preserve all of the High Prince's advisors, no matter my personal feelings toward them."

"Your aid is greatly appreciated," Lamorak told her with a polite little bow and a smile, and offering her his arm he began to lead her away –

Aglarel caught her by the upper arm and turned her back to face him, his eyes scorching her skin with silver flame; his expression was impossible to read. "My brother speaks the truth," he told her haltingly, his face contorting in strange way as he spoke the words. "Sometimes… I do and say things I do not mean."

It was a trait she had seen in action dozens of times before and so she didn't doubt the sincerity of his claim, but that didn't stay her retort. "You are blinded by hatred and prejudice, but I do not blame you for that – no one can understand your loathing for Lim Tal'eyve better than I! But until he has proven himself to be our foe we must protect him, just as we are bound to protect all of the High Prince's subjects. I pray you remember that before long, for the Fourth Prince that I know is more benevolent than any other despite his near-constant attempts to hide as much." Then she gently removed her arm from his slackened grip and hurried with Prince Lamorak across the ballroom.

They moved quietly together for a moment, weaving between elegantly-dressed party guests, until in a voice barely more than a whisper Lamorak said, "I find you much changed, Sceptrana."

Aveil sighed - a little tiredly and impatiently, it seemed - as her eyes scanned the crowd. "I hear that often enough, though for the life of me I cannot see what has so drastically changed. I simply grew bored of opposing every authority figure I came into contact with – conflict breeds eternal misery, as they say."

The corners of Lamorak's mouth twitched with amusement. "It does when those you oppose are the Princes of Shade, that much is true. All joking aside, you really have become a credit to the Most High in every way – Aglarel may be incapable of seeing the logic in your choice to aid Lim now, but he will in time."

"I have my doubts – he is a stubborn and strong-willed man." They were standing in the shadow of a great marble pillar now, sheltered from the alluring faerie lights by its girth; Phendrana stood with his back to them and his hands moving quickly as he spoke in a low, animated voice, addressing two shades so identical in physical appearance that Aveil couldn't immediately determine which was Lim and which was Hadrhune. Only the sight of the familiar darkstaff clutched in Hadrhune's right hand, the shadow sorcerer's weapon of choice for centuries, gave away his identity. "What are you doing here?"

Conversation ended abruptly as Phendrana turned to face them, his expression alive with the depths of his gratitude; Hadrhune cut his eyes to where Aveil stood, still companionably arm-in-arm with Third Prince Lamorak, and surveyed her with great disdain. "I serve Lim Tal'eyve at the High Prince's request, you will recall," he reminded her loftily, his voice little more than a sneer. "You find yourself in a similar situation, from what I can tell?"

Aveil opened her mouth to protest hotly, but Lim placed himself between them and overrode her. "While I do find the scorned lover look to be a most flattering color on you," he drawled sarcastically to Hadrhune, "I feel I must remind you that our goals currently align. Starting a fruitless argument with a potential ally seems foolish, wouldn't you agree?"

Hadrhune instantly bristled. "I do not take orders from you."

Lim offered him a casual wink in reply before saying, "But you know I am right in this instance." He turned back to Aveil while Hadrhune seethed at his side, his eyes flitting momentarily over Lamorak and their still-entwined arms before adding, "It is reassuring to see that some things never change… I must admit that I much prefer your current companion to your previous one. Had a falling out, did you?"

"If you must know we had a difference of opinion where helping you was concerned," Aveil told him bluntly, though she did slip her arm out of the crook of Lamorak's elbow and set her hand on her hip almost defiantly. "He feels rather averse to helping you, for reasons I'm sure aren't unknown to you."

"Then why have you come?" Lim inquired, tilting his head minutely to one side, obviously intrigued. "Are you not… how to put this delicately… of the same mind?"

Aveil sighed yet again as though the answer should be obvious. "I am not Aglarel. I do not have the liberty of defying those whom the High Prince loves on a whim or at my leisure. I am bound to serve those whom he trusts, regardless of my personal feelings toward them."

Lim blinked, taken aback by her answer, and said, "You have changed. I heard rumors, but you know how these matters can become exaggerated in the retelling! I cannot say that I prefer you this way, considering how… vivacious… you were before."

Something resurfaced in Phendrana's memory then, a brief glimpse he had taken of Aglarel and Aveil dancing with almost ethereal grace in the sparse moments before he had plucked up the courage to approach Lim and Hadrhune, that prompted him to say, "I cannot say that I knew you well before, Aveil, but I do not think you are so different as all that." The Sceptrana's answering smile was dazzling; it gave Phendrana the motivation to lead them back to the issue at hand. "We were discussing my vision, and planning for all contingencies. I am glad that you have both joined us – the lack of telling details is making me feel blind and unprepared, and the extra help will be invaluable."

Lim's eyes were on Aveil again, all business now. "Phendrana also tells me that our princess-to-be has been named a target as well. Has she been told of the impending danger?"

Aveil cut her eyes to Phendrana, who had preemptively dropped his gaze to the ground to avoid her searching glare. It was apparent in his guilt-ridden face that he had not completed what he had set out to do. "It would appear that Soleil yet remains unaware of these matters."

"What good can come of telling her now?" Lamorak put in. "The wedding is mere days away – can we not resolve this without causing her further stress? Likely she has quite enough on her plate as it is."

"I was of a similar opinion before," Aveil agreed, and Lim and Hadrhune nodded along in wordless assent as Phendrana's shoulders slumped in defeat. "We five should take these matters into our own hands, and involve no one else if we can avoid it. This occasion is something the Most High has long awaited in great earnest – if we are capable of dealing with further assassins from Menzoberranzan, we should do so without alerting him."

"Then we are all agreed that we must be on high alert on the day of the ceremony," Hadrhune summarized for them, his thumbnail working at the deep groove he had habitually worn near the head of his darkstaff as presumably some further matter vexed him. "But that does not tell us when the priestess will come to sacrifice Lim, or where." He turned back to Phendrana, who was now massaging his temples in a vain attempt to stimulate his memory. "Tell us again what you saw. There may remain some clue we have overlooked, something vital that may work in our favor."

"I have told you all that there is to know, for there was little to see," Phendrana insisted in a pinched, harassed tone. "Candles. A makeshift altar. Sacrificial elements. The dagger the priestess wielded had a hilt shaped in the likeness of a black widow spider – it came alive when it pierced Lim's flesh, clawing his chest open and tearing the shadow orb from his body. I have never seen such a weapon."

Lim was rolling his eyes in obvious disgust, his amber eyes momentarily lost within the bottle-green hue of the eyeholes of his mask. "I have. They are standard fare for priestesses ordained by Lolth and a symbol of a female drow's rank in society. The goddess herself is said to bless such blades, and they are commonly used in sacrificial rituals that the Spider Queen considers to be of great importance. It is said that if the heart that beats within the victim's breast holds any ill will against Lolth, the hilt will come alive and devour the organ that sustains him."

It was further proof that Lim had never really been their enemy, and it made Aveil wish fervently that it was Aglarel at her side and not Lamorak and Phendrana; nevertheless she nodded her understanding, her face a mask of almost glacial calm. "At this point I cannot say if it would be better for you to be at odds with Lolth or not."

"I can." Lim tossed her another one of his easy winks, this one accompanied by a devious smile. "The Spider Queen will wish she hadn't forsaken me when that which I have waited for finds it way into my possession."

Hadrhune was scowling. "This again? The High Prince does not take kindly to secrets."

The drow-shade held up his hands palms-forward as if in reminder of his total innocence. "Can it be called a secret if the particulars are unknown even to me?"

Lamorak was alternating glances between Hadrhune and Lim with raised eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"He says that the means to eradicate Lolth is coming to him, though he will not say what it is or who is bringing it," Hadrhune confided, making it plain in the tone of his voice that he had long since grown tired of the drow's fondness and fascination of pointless riddles. "I have badgered him ceaselessly to divulge the rest of his plans, but as you can see I have had little success."

"I have told you all that I know," Lim insisted in a growl, and as the nigh-identical pair of shades glared daggers at one another Phendrana dropped his hands from his temples and blew a frustrated sigh.

"We haven't the time to argue amongst ourselves!" the doppelganger reminded them in a harsh whisper, for their voices had escalated in volume and with every passing moment they ran the risk of drawing unwanted attention to themselves. "Need I remind you that the conjurer who means to put an end to Aveil will appear within our midst this very night?! We have hardly begun to prepare for her arrival, much less the coming of these two others!"

Lamorak nodded, looking suddenly introspective, but Phendrana's words served to bring Lim and Hadrhune up short; the drow stared back at Phendrana wordlessly, his mouth slightly agape and his eyes brimming with surprise, and it was such a rare occasion to see Lim at a loss for words that Phendrana momentarily lost his train of thought. Hadrhune was staring steadily at Aveil, his face carefully composed but his eyes betraying his inner turmoil. Aveil met both of their stares with her head held high and not a trace of fear to be found in her expression.

At last, Lim remembered how to speak – Phendrana was the recipient of his ire. "I deliberately asked you last night if you had seen anything else, and you lied to me?!"

"Of course I lied to you," Phendrana shot back icily. "But then again, you weren't entirely truthful with me either, were you?"

"On which issue?!" the drow thundered, shaking off the restraining hand that Hadrhune laid across his arm, and Phendrana hit him with a devious grin of his own.

"Did you really expect me to believe that you were not at all acquainted with Zek Vandree?" Phendrana pointed out, laughing now, and Lim's scowl deepened. "When I met with Prince Aglarel this morning and he told me of the drow's death I knew for certain you had killed him. But why? What information was he privy to that you couldn't risk him sharing? And what did you hope to gain in implicating me in his murder?"

Lim offered a shrug in response. "In truth? Absolutely nothing – and I was nothing but truthful with you when I told you I didn't know him. I visited him hoping he had come to deliver me that which I have been eagerly awaiting, but he knew nothing of it – when it became apparent that he would be of no use to me I disposed of him. His usefulness to Prince Aglarel, and to the Most High, had already ended. I assumed no one would take issue if his life ended also. As for what I hoped to gain in framing you… well, there was nothing in it for me, honestly, I did it for sport." He tossed the doppelganger a wink, finishing, "No hard feelings."

Aveil's hands were clenched into white fists at her sides, her delicate curls trembling as she shook with barely contained rage. "You put to death a prisoner of the High Prince without permission?! Have you lost your senses?!"

"The decision to determine who should live and who should die does not rest with you," Lamorak informed the drow-shade with a grave, almost vengeful look in his eye. "Perhaps you are right in thinking that Zek Vandree's usefulness had ended, but that does not give you the authority to eliminate him. Your presumptions will place you at odds with our sovereign if you are not more careful in the future."

"Can we not return to the real crux of the matter?" Lim reminded them with an exaggerated sigh. "We do not have the time to be squabbling amongst ourselves, especially not with emissaries of the Spider Queen drawing ever closer to our doorstep. We must band together and act, or we flirt with the certain elimination of any number of the High Prince's Court." His eyes slid over Aveil then, who was standing facing him with her hands placed haughtily upon her hips, and added, "Unless of course Prince Aglarel is prepared to act against us all in response to your noncompliance with him, in which case I do believe we have another problem entirely."

More than one set of eyes flitted in Aveil's direction looking panic-stricken, but the Sceptrana was shaking her head even before the words had left Lim's mouth. "Perhaps he does not trust in you and your agenda – and I must say that he is not the only one – but he does trust in me and my judgment. He will not move against us unless we commit some act that is counter to the High Prince's mandate, and the safeguarding of the Court can hardly be considered as such."

"Though it seems that aiding me in any way could be viewed otherwise," Lim put in disdainfully, and though Lamorak and Phendrana both bristled it was Hadrhune who intervened in response, stepping up to the drow's side and rapping him none-too-gently on the back of the head with the head of his darkstaff.

"Spare us your standoffishness," the seneschal reprimanded as Lim rubbed the back of his head gingerly. "Were you not just preaching the importance of us banding together? The situation may be less than ideal, but our ultimate goal is the same – we must preserve those closest to the crown and do all that we can to keep these infiltrators from accomplishing their ends." He locked eyes with Aveil when he finished, "That means we should start with you, if it is true what the doppelganger says and one of these killers is coming for you tonight."

Aveil was shaking her head. "No – Soleil is soon to wed the High Prince's eldest son. Her protection should be our first priority."

Lamorak's eyes, fixed upon some point beyond the protective cover of the pillar behind which they stood clustered together debating, suddenly widened with horror as he said, "Unfortunately it seems as though we have run out of time to debate this."

Phendrana and Hadrhune, standing at opposite ends of the pillar, peeked around the polished marble surface and instantly identified Lamorak's cause for concern.

In the center of the great ballroom, already shimmering with a radiance brighter than the many whimsical lanterns magically suspended overhead, was a bead of light that shone with a golden glow; watching it, Phendrana supposed that if he held it in the palm of his hand it would be no larger than a marble, yet it seemed to be growing steadily larger all the while. As it expanded the temperature within the hall began to rise, warming all that it touched with its life-giving rays, and though Phendrana had once looked to that gleaming orb with fondness it now felt very wrong to look upon it for longer than even a handful of seconds. Brighter and brighter, hotter and hotter, until even squinting he could scarcely abide to look upon the swelling likeness of the sun and the veil of shadows that clung to his body had dissipated into barely-visible wisps of gray vapor –

- And then the conjured orb of sunlight burst, filling the entire chamber with its deadly golden rays, and in the instant before he went blind Phendrana thought he witnessed the moment when his eyelids were burned from his face.