The Age of Undeath

3. Showstopper - Trill

Music soared between the nobility – their laughter and gossip rumbling Trill's hollow bones – buoyant as a warm breeze. He sauntered into their midst, absorbing every detail, the sparkle and silk of a world totally egregious – effervescent in a way the Last Aerie could never comprehend.

The Duval ballroom accommodated thirty people, but the mirrors along the inner length duplicated them into sixty – one mirror being the door he had used to enter the room. Tables lined the mirrored wall and a handful of padded armchairs stood against the east wall. There he spotted the Grand Erudita, Amanda Vicentes, expressionless as ever. Her hair was the colour of rust, of dried blood and red wine. Dull and yet not for lack of fine soaps. It hung to her waist in severe straight drapes, framing a pale face that rarely smiled. The decorative iron circlet on her head marked her significant rank, and an intellect far more powerful than magic. Or so the iron was meant to imply. Two of her three sons flanked her, deep in conversation. The only indication Amanda listened to them was the subtle movement of her lips, her gaze drawn to the marble floor.

Opposite the mirrors were glass doors, the windowpanes shaped like diamonds and propped open to let in the cool night air. Beyond was the veranda and the opulent view of Ralehr Cascades, tumbling like liquid silver in the moonlight, the waterfall crowned by the Water Palace. Despite standing near the open glass doors, the orchestra wore sheens of sweat; the six musicians playing as if their lives depended on it. Much like Isabel Ortega, Trill noticed, currently swirling across the floor with General Espinoza. The blonde, blue-eyed beauty clung to the General at every opportunity, her chest heaving against its corset, the intensity of her gaze upon him enough to ignite forest fires. It was no secret that the Ortega's had lost everything to the war, the province "reclaimed" by the elven army, the Imperial King slaughtered in battle and his blood soaked into Ortegan soil. Only Isabel and her brother, Felipe, had escaped the enemy. Well, the only people who mattered, as far as official rosters were concerned.

Trill spotted Felipe at the loudest table, his face flushed from drinking and a fan of playing cards in his hands. Each table was decorated with a water bowl of floating hibiscus flowers – they must have cost a fortune to ship from overseas – and the bowl on Felipe's table was currently being used as an ashtray. He had a charm that Trill did not understand. People were drawn to Felipe, himself included, and he had yet to learn the trick of it.

Where did he fit into this party? Trill yearned for Felipe to turn his head and beckon him to join the game. For Eresin's two children, currently itching to run from their seats and probably escape their great aunt's sour company, to call him over for entertainment. Perhaps Amanda? Intimidating though she was, she was always cordial, and he enjoyed it when others could not keep pace with their discourse.

Removing the gold straw he'd had commissioned from his pocket, Trill sipped his champagne. An uproar of cheers and cries of dismay went up from Felipe's table. The young man flung his hands up, shoulder-length blond hair glowing against his jubilant smile.

"SCORE! The round is mine." With a good-natured laugh, Felipe scooped a pile of coins closer, disrupting the cards in front of him and knocking water from the hibiscus bowl. His competitors threw down their cards.

"You there," cried one, gesturing to a servant and holding out her empty glass, "get another round for the table."

"Anyone for another go?" said Felipe, just as the music stopped. A little out of breath, Isabel finally let go of the General and swooped in on the coterie. Her sculpted hair glittered with heart-shaped red gems.

"Brother, are you going to spend the whole night emptying our friend's pockets? Come and have a dance."

Trill had moved on too far to catch Felipe's muttered response, the music kicking off again, but whatever he said sent shockwaves of laughter around his companions – obnoxious and piercing. A few seats down Trill saw Brunhild Marchand grimace and Caladrius wince. He shuffled closer, pretending to watch the dancers with undivided attention.