A man with small enemies is a small man. Do not diminish those who oppose you, not in character, intelligence, or reasoning. To overcome an adversary is to be the victor. To overcome a great adversary is to be great.

-Emperor Tar'Akannan

We alight once more on the dance floor, the slow transition of the light overhead casting hard shadows across the ground, making the space feel more crowded than it actually is. The music continues, a soft whine of string stretched across a wooden frame, a slight warble in the sound from the weariness of the players. He smells of cigar smoke and alcohol, and I feel sweat beading on my back as he leads me on, making my dress grow sticky. None of it matters; the little imperfections fall away in the light of our movement together.

Time sails past, even the moments where we retreat from the dance floor, heart thumping while we scrounge up drinks, fly past without notice. Others dip in and out, Dovik and Jess making a display of themselves, but I always feel Jor and I are at the center of it. We can't help but linger, lost in the sway of our bodies, oblivious to the world changing around us.

The music dies away. It takes me a moment to notice the click of my heels on the floor, the only sound as Jor starts to slow in his lead, coming to a stop. He looks at something in the distance across the ballroom, his eyes big as he stares at the far table.

A man in a smart servant's uniform stands at the table, folding up a large sheet while two others work at setting out refreshments on the velvet tablecloth. For some reason, the first thing I notice is the wetness of the sheet he is trying to fold, wondering why he should bother. My eyes fall then upon Yul'Mari and Lady Gaolin gesticulating not ten feet away from the table, their silent argument made strange by the enchantments running through the hall.

It isn't his sister that Jor'Mari stares at, but the ice sculpture just revealed and set upon the table. The sculpture is an arrangement, eight people standing together, similar to the family portraits that I have seen hung just about everywhere in the halls of these rich manors. My mind whirs, recognizing two faces in the arrangement, Fas and Yul Mari, two older children standing on either side of a severe-looking man who could only be the Duke. The detail given to the faces is unreal. But, I don't see Jor among the figures made of ice. It doesn't take long to understand that his spot has been replaced with a young boy, maybe ten. It is Jor'Mari's younger brother, Timmin, the one people whisper that he murdered.

"Jor." I catch his arm.

"Don't let it bother you," he whispers to me as Lady Gaolin turns from Yul, chastised and finding us standing in the middle of the room. "Don't ever let them see that you can be hurt."

"My most sincere apologies," Lady Gaolin says, bowing when she finally makes it over to us. With a hard slash of her hand, a signal is given to the musicians, and the music returns. "I did not realize at all, Lord Mari, I had no idea. I've had to rely so much on what others were willing to donate to this celebration with times being as they are. Constraints on imports, you understand."

Seeing the lack of amusement on Jor's face, she clears her throat. "I will have the sculpture removed at once."

"There is no need," Jor says, smiling his false smile at the woman. "Surely, the sculptor must have run out of material and forgotten my inclusion. It isn't a difficult mistake to make."

Confusion washes over the woman for a scant moment before she nods along. "Indeed. That must be it."

"You have opened your home to all of us and thrown such a fantastic celebration," he says, taking her hands in his own and squeezing them gently. "We owe you a debt for that. Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I made plans to smoke with Lord Basil."

My hand snags the sleeve of his jacket, stopping him from leaving. He turns to me for a moment, and despite the mask of bravado, I can see deep hurt in his eyes. "I will return," he tells me, gently removing my hand. He kisses the back of my palm, trying his damndest to paste on a real smile. "We have more dancing to do."

I can't bring myself to stop him again as he turns toward one of the exits to the hall. Neither I nor Lady Gaolin make comment about how he heads the wrong way, walking away from the smoking lounge. With him gone, dragging away a deep hurt and my restraint, I round on Lady Gaolin.

"Who donated that sculpture?!" I barely restrain myself from shouting, the words far harsher than I meant them.

Indignance flashes on the elven woman's face for a moment, slowly draining away in the face of my unyielding anger. "I can't be certain exactly," she says.

"Your best guess, if you would."

"Ms. Devardem, you are asking me to point an accusing finger, and I will not do so without confidence. I'm sorry. I do not know where this has come from, and had I seen it myself beforehand, it never would have been displayed. Lord Mari's anger at the situation is more than understandable, but I will not point the duke's ire toward someone if I am not certain. Now, I hope that you continue to enjoy yourself. I have business to conduct." With her words said, she walks away, rushing to speak to the musicians.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

The intense impulse to melt the ice sculptures takes me, and I am standing in front of it before I realize. Orange flames flicker in my palm as I stare up, but my anger dies away slowly as I look over the faces. There is a kindness in their expressions that cools my heart.

Timmin stares out, his eyes focused on some point just past my shoulders. The young boy is the perfect picture of innocence, the detail put into his depiction far more concerned than the others. I become aware of Yul standing next to me, and our eyes meet for a moment before she glances down at the fire burning in my hand.

"I wouldn't blame you for it, but it would be a poor choice," Yul says.

"I know." Closing my hand, the fire snuffs out. "I've never seen most of these faces. Jor doesn't talk about himself much. Well, that isn't exactly true. He doesn't talk about the things that are important to him much."

"He was always such a quiet child," she says. "He never felt like he fit into the family, no matter how much we tried to include him. Our father made him a full member of the family. I don't know how much you understand about the politics of elven nobility, but that isn't common. He may look severe, and certainly he acts that way much of the time, but nothing is as important to my father as family; it is his legacy."

"You all look…content."

"If we ever managed to be together for a portrait like this, I don't remember it," she says. "The sculptor took some real liberties. Timmin was my older brother, you know. The Duke's second son. This is the Timmin that Jor would remember as leading him on adventures in the woods when we were all so little, the one that taught him to swim, the one that showed him the secret paths in and out of the keep. Whoever made these wants to hurt him; I have no doubt."

"And who made them?" I ask her.

She looks at me, both of us knowing the answer before she even says it. "The same woman that you have made an enemy of. The same one that holds food from reaching the starving citizens in the lower city because you are a part of its origin."

"She did what!" Thanks to the sound-dampening through the ballroom, my shout is only heard by one person. "No one could be that petty."

Yul quirks an eyebrow at that. "Do you seriously believe that?"

In this moment, I don't know what I believe. Suddenly, the air in here is too close for me. I move away from Yul, going in the only direction I can find clean air, the front stoop. The cool air of the outside hits me like a punch to the face, stopping me and my mounting anger cold in my tracks. When my first step crosses the threshold and the world suddenly pops back into sound, I hear the approach of frantic footfalls. I turn, falling back against the stone railing that guards the stairs leading up to the manor.

Jess catches the closing door in the entryway, the shifting light coming from inside throwing her into a strange contrast. Worry is clear on her face, and I love her for it.

"What's happening?" she asks, her voice low as she closes the door behind her, joining me on the front stoop of the house.

I tell her, or at least I try to, but my words come in a jumble. I am so angry that I can feel my heart pounding in my head. The anger doesn't just flow toward Priscilla; a lot of it comes back at me. She is awful, horrible; I can't believe that she would stop starving people from getting food just to spite me, but I have no reason to doubt Yul. If I had just held my tongue that night, done what Jor was trying to tell me to do, things would be so much easier. Tears try to well in my eyes, but I force them back. There is something like admitting defeat in letting tears fall.

Jess hands me a handkerchief from one of the pouches she keeps concealed in the folds of her silks. "She won't get away with this," she tells me. "Trying to hurt Jor is one thing, an awful thing that I will knock some of her teeth out for, but she can't starve people. When the duke hears about this, there will be three hells to pay."

"You're right," I say, dabbing delicately at my eyes with the piece of cloth, not wanting to ruin the makeup Jess spent so long applying. "We will make sure to…"

My voice cuts out as my eyes catch movement in the dark. Just a few blocks away, a shadow moves at the corner of a building. I squint in the dark, but it is Jess turning her head in that direction that sees it first.

"I don't believe it," I manage to say as I have Galea create a window for the figure moving back into shadow.

Priscilla Ca'Mari, Daughter of Baron Radast Ca'Mari

Jess catches my arm before I take the first step. "Stop," she pleads.

"She came here to see if she got to us," I say, watching the shapeless form move back around the corner of the building. "I can't let her get away with it. I won't."

"We should get Jor'Mari and Dovik."

"No." Yul's words earlier, about how this bad blood between me and this woman was his responsibility, are too recent in my mind.

She bites her lips, looking between me and the closed door into the manor. "Let's go back inside. Come on, you will feel better."

"I can't go back in there," I say, falling back against the stone rail once more, sinking to the floor. "I can't."

Her eyes dart once again. She opens the door and tries to call inside, but her voice doesn't travel through the building. Jess kneels in front of me, taking my hands in her own, her handkerchief squashed into a ball between my palms. "I am going to go find Jor," she says. "Promise me you will stay here."

"Why is it that when I find something nice, something always comes and ruins it?"

"Promise me, Charlene," she repeats.

"I'll stay here," I manage to mumble. When that isn't good enough for her, she makes me repeat it louder.

"I will only be gone a minute," she says, opening the door and flagging down a server, telling him to stand outside with me and make sure that I don't go anywhere. "I will be right back, I promise. Things are going to be okay, Charlene."

Then, she is gone, returning into the manor through a screen of pink light. The server stands awkwardly on the stoop, looking at me as I stare off down the road. I still hear my heart pounding in my ears. There is a stone in my throat that no amount of swallowing will fix. I am such a bad friend.

The man moves in front of me as I stand and start going down the steps. He means well, begging me to stop and wait for my friend, but he never had a chance to stop me himself. I'm already running by the time his back smacks into the wall of the manor. Doubt evaporates as my legs begin to pump faster and faster, one delicate shoe flying off my foot as I spur forward. One way or another, this issue between me and this woman gets settled tonight.

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