Light flooded out of the ballroom stretching out before me. Before I could even thank the grey-clad regg servant who had opened the door, he dipped his chin and scurried away. I turned my gaze back to the ballroom, the music and faint sounds of laughter grasping my attention.

A high balcony ran along the sides of the gigantic chamber, perched on tall marble pillars. Glowing lanterns were attached to each pillar, each enlightening a part of the balcony in small patches of light. There were several uppers conversing or walking over the balustrade, or watching over the people walking or dancing on the ground below. Where the pillars on each side of the ballroom met on the side opposite to me, was a large translucent staircase, which would lead to the rest of the Blackwater Residence, I supposed. The crystal seemed to glow by itself.

In the middle of the enormous ballroom was a golden-lit, sunken dance floor, on which several couples were dancing.

One couple waltzed their way all over the dance floor, and I recognised them as the woman in the blue dress covered with blossoms and the man with the dark green suit. They rudely interrupted several couples which were dancing and conversing at the same time, making them have to step aside so they wouldn't bump into each other. The couple simply ignored them, not minding where they were going or who they were almost crashing into.

I shifted my gaze away from the dance floor, to the crystalline chandelier hanging from the near-black ceiling, covered with asterisms resembling a midnight sky. I regarded the intricate constellations. What the hell?

Back home, if the weather allowed it, I had often climbed onto the roof of the cabin, only to stare at the sky for hours. I knew the constellations in the sky like the back of my hand—these were in no way alike.

"I know, they're worthless," a feminine voice sounded beside me.

I turned my head, not startled by the gentle voice beside me. I was greeted by a beautiful, dark-skinned woman wearing an elegant, vibrant red dress. The thin fabric flowed around her body like she was standing in a non-existent breeze, the long pieces of cloth attached to her shoulders like a fiery cape.

Her dark brown eyes, the colour matching her curly hair, shifted away from the ceiling to meet mine. Her curls bounced in their ringlets, curling around her slender shoulders. "Riven Blackwater," she introduced, making a small reverence.

"Oh," I stammered as I recognised her as the woman in the picture, "I know—I mean—" I took a deep breath. "It is my first time at a real ball. I'm a bit speechless by it all."

The Lady Blackwater giggled, hiding her mouth behind a slender hand laden with golden rings. "Let us try that again, then," she said straightening her shoulders and making a reverence. "I'm Riven Blackwater," she said.

I returned the gesture. "Congratulations with your name day, my Lady," I said, reciting the lines Allie had taught me. "My name is Tenna Diyawood. Glad to come your acquaintance."

"Likewise," she answered with a small smile, turning her gaze to the ballroom stretching out before us.

There was a moment of silence, wherein my ears were buzzing and my stomach a pit of nerves. I was hoping I was doing this right. Of all people I had to meet the hostess first. Luckily, she didn't seem as horrible or shallow as I had anticipated.

Was I supposed to say something? I had no idea what. I couldn't compliment the host's choice of decoration or music like Allie had advised me to do—I was with the host. Allie hadn't prepared me for this. I cursed mentally for staying silent.

"Diyawood, you said?" the Lady Blackwater asked, as she plucked a high glass filled with a bubbly silver drink from a tray floating by. "Any relation to the late Arlon Diyawood?"

"Oh," I said, recalling my made-up backstory. Thank the gods she said something. "Yes, he was my uncle. I was supposed to visit him, but halfway my journey here I found out he had passed. It was too late to turn back, so I decided to continue my trip and focus on my studies," I said. "What a tragedy," I quickly added the last sentence, trying to sound like I was really touched by his passing. In reality, I had never met the guy.

The Blackwater hostess nodded slowly, and she seemed to buy my story. "Yes, indeed," she said eventually. "Old Arlon was always an intelligent man. Such a pity he never showed up at balls anymore during his last cycles, I quite enjoyed my discussions with him," the Lady said, sipping her drink.

Yeah, maybe because he had been dead for the last three or so cycles I thought, but said, "Yes, it's a shame."

My mind drifted back to what Allie had said when we were making up my backstory. It had been a strange concept for me to grasp, the cycles and shifts. Apparently, one cycle—what would be called a year in my book—was divided into six shifts, each lasting sixty days.

For the regg, the end of a shift was the last day they could pay their debts, or otherwise risk execution. At the beginning of the shift, they could buy their food chits, which they could exchange for credits at the end of the shift if they hadn't finished them. In reality, this seldom to never happened, so the black market for food chits was enormous, since you couldn't buy food chits halfway a shift.

For the uppers however, the end of a shift was simply another reason for a ball—if they didn't have enough reasons already. They had nothing to worry about. We were now around halfway a shift—it would take a while until there would be another grand party. Allie had said the uppers really lived for the Shift Balls, since they were always the most extravagant.

The Lady Blackwater finished her drink, setting it on another tray floating by in the air, hovering past all the guests. I tried not to stare at it. "I have other guests to attend to," she said, "I hope you'll enjoy the ball. Please do try the shrimp cakes, I hear they are delicious."

"Thank you, Lady Blackwater. I will make sure to try them," I answered, making a small reverence.

The Lady glanced around, before stepping closer. " Please, call me Riven," she whispered, leaning in closer. A twinkle appeared in her wide eyes, which were lined with golden. "Lady Blackwater sounds so stiff."

I couldn't help but smile, and corrected myself. "Thank you—" I said, "—Riven. I'll make sure to taste them."

Riven cocked her head slightly, a small grin tugging on her lips. "Much better. That sounds much more natural, doesn't it?" she said, turning back around to face the ballroom. "Oh no," she suddenly muttered, averting her gaze, and turning her body away from the hall, "Please don't come here, please don't—"

"Miss Blackwater!" a guest exclaimed, as she trotted up to us. "Hi!" she said as she saw me, her caramel coloured hair swishing around her bare shoulders. "I—" She suddenly dropped to the ground as her yellow shawl slid off her arm, quickly grabbing it before it hit the floor. "Whoops," she said, hoisting the fabric back on her shoulder.

"Hello, Kyara," Riven said, folding her hands in front of her body. A tight-lipped smile appeared on her face.

"Hello my Lady. And other Lady," the girl stuttered, a nervous grin playing on her red-coloured lips. "Wait, do I know you?" she asked suddenly, cocking her head and turning to me.

I only dipped my chin, since she was probably younger than I was. "No, I think not. I'm Tenna Diyawood, from the Wasteland Globes." The lie easily slid off my lips.

"Oh, the Wastelands... Glad to come your acquaintance," the girl said quickly. I hardly understood her at the speed she was talking. "Kyara Jadefire," she added, "But, Lady Riven,—" she pulled her shawl back to its place on her shoulder, turning back to our hostess, "—Lady Whitelock wants to speak to you. She said it was urgent. You know how she is," she rattled.

"I guess that was unavoidable," Riven said, "Thank you, Kyara. I still can't grasp why you're running errands for her."

"The Lady Whitelock promised me a small favour," Kyara said happily, like that made it all okay.

"Ah," Riven said, "I see. She must really need you then." She smiled, dipping her chin.

Kyara skipped away again, leaving Riven and me behind.

"I must warn you, Lani Whitelock can be quite... direct, sometimes," Riven warned me once the girl was out of earshot. "Oh, she brought Ayden along as well," she said, noticing the couple I had seen earlier walking up to us.

An upper woman strode up to the two of us, her arm resting on the elbow of a man with dirty blonde hair and stormy grey eyes—which were glued to Riven. When I saw his dark green suit I recognised him as the Lord with whom I had seen the Lady dance with.

The Lady's elegant ballgown trailed over the marble floor, the fabric littered with delicate blue flowers. I could only assume she was the Lani Whitelock Riven had been talking about.

Her white blonde hair was set into large curls which cascaded over her back, the absence of a smile on her plump lips noticeable. For someone who looked so disinterested, you wouldn't expect they'd wear such a flowery and light dress. When they stopped in front of Riven and me, she slowly released her hand from the man's elbow, waiting a few seconds before any of us made a move or sound.

She gave Riven a quick once over, a small smile appearing on her lips, almost as in malicious pleasure. "Riven, darling," she said, her voice silvery yet cold, "Congratulations with your name day. But you shouldn't have worn that dress. I mean, where are you going to store your dusty old books? It's such a strange sight, seeing you without them."

She completely ignored me, so it seemed. I took a small step back, letting the two Ladies finish their business. That was all this was—formalities. I couldn't sense any kindness or fondness between the two Ladies, part from being very fond of insulting each other. At least, from Lady Whitelock's side. The man—Lord Ayden—stood still and silently by her side. He had his eyes fixed on Riven as well, but in a very different way.

"Well," Riven started without missing a beat, "I don't have much to say to you, to be honest, part from one question." She cocked her head, "Are those flowers on your dress real? I can only assume they're artificial, since real ones would wither in the presence of your vile ego." She turned to the boy, bringing a hand to her chest, "Ayden, I'm so sorry you were chosen for her."

It was silent for a second. I spotted a small smirk appearing on his lips. He bowed his head slightly, holding out a hand. "I'm sorry too. Care to dance?" he said, a twinkle appearing in his eyes as he locked eyes with Riven. I bit my lip, trying to hold myself from breaking out in a grin.

Riven laughed, returning the gesture and taking hold of his hand. "I would love to," she said, and they walked away to the dancefloor.

Riven and Ayden started dancing. Riven was laughing about something he had said, her head thrown back.

"They'd better enjoy it while they can," Lani Whitelock said when they started dancing. "He's not good for her anyway."

"Why would that be, Lady Whitelock?" I asked, unsure of what she meant. Riven and Ayden seemed a nice couple—at least, better than Lady Whitelock and him together.

Why did Riven leave me alone with this upper? I thought, silently cursing her.

"What I mean—" Lady Whitelock said sharply, "—is that Riven would bring her family to shame if she'd even consider to wed Ayden Farhallow. First of all, because he's under her stance. The Blackwaters are the second richest Family," she said, a bit sourly.

The Whitelocks are the fourth. She's jealous.

Lani Whitelock lifted her chin. "The only reasonable choice that could be made, is her to be wed to Vander Darkloft," she said. She laughed. "Poor girl," she continued. "Luckily, Ayden is promised to me. She has to do it with the Vulture."

She lifted her chin and turned her gaze from the dancing Riven and Ayden to me. "I will leave now. Enjoy the remainder of this...party," she said. She turned around halfway, but not before she left me with a cold remark. "You should've worn heels under that plain dress," she said, "You're short."

The Lady left, walking along the sides of the dance floor. Every upper stepped aside for her, like she was the hostess.

Riven and Ayden—calling them by their first name sounded much more natural, contrary to Lady Whitelock—were still twirling around the dance floor, even making several other uppers step aside just to watch them, because they were so graceful. It looked like they were born to dance together, completely in sync and sensing the other's needs.

A hand was suddenly laid on my shoulder, a voice pulling me away from the sight of the two uppers dancing.

"Hello, Lady Diyawood," he said, "May I have this dance?"

I turned around completely, looking into those familiar dark, dark green eyes. My eyes widened and my mouth formed a perfect 'o' when I recognised the person in front of me.

"What the hell are you doing here?"