Dina's time was slowly running out. At least, that's how she felt.

In her mind, she was in Perubia, on the field beside the Tharoden Inn, as though she knew that Zevran was there too, calling out her name from their special spot. But Dina couldn't hear his voice; she only felt her heart tighten at the thought.

Zevran, don't be late... Come for me.

The threat of delay was very real. Dina couldn't help but think about what might change for her after taking her oath as a spy. Even though she knew she would never truly join them in spirit, she'd still, formally, become a Veiler, and an official tie would bind her to the party.

One more thing that would take her even further from freedom. How much further, she could only wonder.

And she would be lying if she hadn't also considered the other possibility. Iolthland clearly held her in some regard. And the lord was seeking a wife, someone official to sit beside him, performing the expected duties—for Iolthland, for the party, but not for herself.

Yet Dina thought they could form an alliance. She could buy herself time. The question was only what terms Iolthland might accept, but then, as she thought of this, she shook her head. It would be a mistaken dream to think the lord would agree to anything like the arrangement she'd had with Zevran. There was no reason he would.

Of course, Zevran had no reason either. No, come to think of it, he had no reason at all. Why had Zevran done it?

Dina didn't know the answer; only her instincts hinted at it. Zevran's life and hers were worlds apart, and yet, in both, there ran the same distinctive thread. They were both courtesans. Killers, innocents, seducers or saints, yet still courtesans.

Iolthland wouldn't understand this.

And Dina's time would continue to drain away, in an even more dangerous setting, for there was no proof that sooner or later, she wouldn't begin to feel some bond with Iolthland. If he were the one to give her food, fine clothes, and a luxurious roof over her head; if he were the one to take her virginity, if he were even patient with her, and stayed that way, who knew for how long... No, Dina didn't think she was strong enough to resist forever. Sooner or later, she would come to love him.

But if that happened... it would be better if Zevran didn't come at all. It would be better if they never saw each other again, because the pain of a belated Zevran's presence might be beyond anything she could imagine. She knew few of Druindar's tales, but this one came to mind. The tale of the soldier who returned from the Snowy Mountains to the elf girl who had written him love letters. By the time he returned years later, she had married and, painful as it was, did not break her vow of loyalty. Then her husband entered the room they were together and it was the end for the soldier.

Dina shook her head, refusing to imagine it any further. No, never. So, she continued standing at the window, hair pinned up, wearing a grey dress for the oath.

"Are you ready to leave?" Gaelin entered the room immediately after knocking, though her brows furrowed when she saw her standing by the window. "Stop mourning someone who will never come! It would have happened by now. I assume he's somewhere at a tavern, with women of ill-repute, barely remembering you."

Dina didn't move.

"Come now, prepare yourself in spirit too, for the celebration!"

Without a word or a look, or any outward reaction, the girl walked out of the room with ghostly grace. Gaelin sighed.

*

"Well, Gaelin was certainly right in saying that Iolthland had indeed planned the event on a grand scale. The palace of the provincial lord, located in the city centre, was a marvellous building in itself, but now it dazzled even more, adorned with flowers and green branches. Dina couldn't find it tacky or excessive, not for a moment. The servants putting on the finishing touches were overseen by a well-dressed elven lady who not only kept the work in perfect order but also made sure the overall effect remained impeccable.

As they passed by, Dina took a good look at her. Perhaps she was... the court florist? She wondered just how many attendants Iolthland might have. This woman, even as a subordinate, was dressed in attire more splendid and luxurious than Feléna's. Dina turned her gaze forward. What must it be like to live here as the ruler?

She was also taken aback by the number of guests. Sylvaron had suddenly transformed into a bustling city, with throngs of well-dressed people Dina had never seen before crowding the streets—mostly elves and humans. Laughter and smiles filled the squares. All were heading towards the palace, perhaps leaving only the old beggar at the roadside, as always. Dina leaned closer to Gaelin.

"Are all these people from Sylvaron, and are they all Veilers?" she asked in disbelief.

"Perhaps they're from Sylvaron county. But I can easily imagine there were applicants from beyond the county lines hoping for a free meal," came the sarcastic reply.

Feléna, who usually didn't join in their conversations, now seemed to have her ears open with excitement. "Remember, this isn't a Veiler gathering. Officially, it's simply a generous party. The oath-taking is secret; we'll retreat to one of the back chambers while the revelry carries on."

Dina nodded. The hidden world of spies.

But then Feléna nudged her, and Dina looked up. Iolthland was approaching the three of them, his expression and posture severe, followed by a few members of his entourage. All three of them bowed solemnly, barely rising before Iolthland's stern voice was already addressing them.

"Feléna, what are you doing here?"

The woman's face betrayed complete bewilderment; she opened her mouth but couldn't speak.

"Your students were invited to the celebration; you were not. And not by accident." He waved a hand behind him, signalling the servants to step out of earshot, and leaned in closer to Feléna. "We don't want to attract too much attention, do we? After all, this isn't a Veiler celebration, and you don't enjoy grand gatherings. Go home. And next time, read between the lines. After all, that's your profession, isn't it?"

Dina glanced at Feléna, who looked utterly devastated, her face pale and her mouth still open before she simply closed it and bowed again. Beside her, Gaelin was visibly struggling with his emotions.

Iolthland's stern gaze lingered on Feléna a little longer before he simply turned away. Dina was standing there, a fresh sight in her quietness, which seemed to lighten his mood. His anger appeared to fade as he looked at her, and, though faint, a smile crossed his face.

"Dina. Come. I'll return the favour—you recently escorted me to your place; now I'll do the same for you." He extended his hand toward her.

Dina stole a glance at Feléna, whose head was bowed, her face flushed—whether from shame or anger, Dina couldn't tell. Gaelin, meanwhile, was clenching his fist beneath his crossed arms. Finally, Dina took a deep breath. She couldn't dwell on them too much if she didn't want trouble: Iolthland's hand awaited her.

She couldn't say no. Not that... she was even sure she would. Safety was a great master, and if anyone could provide that, it was Iolthland.

Gently, she placed her hand in his. Iolthland's fingers were pleasantly dry and firm yet careful. Dina felt again that perhaps he really wasn't so bad after all.

Keeping their hands together, he began to walk. For a brief moment, Dina looked back sympathetically at the two women as they turned and vanished into the crowd. Then she met Iolthland's stern gaze, and in that instant, she knew she was being tested. He watched her intently, as though looking for any hint of disapproval in her expression.

Dina's lips parted; she wanted to explain herself but realised that would only worsen the situation. So she pressed her lips together and lowered her head.

"Forgive me, your honour."

The man continued to observe her. Finally, his mouth twitched into a faint, forgiving smile.

"Dina. I don't force anything upon you; if you wish, you can join Feléna." He leaned in slightly. "But currently, you stand at the side of the lord of Sylvaron county. I'd like you to enter the palace with me. Would you care to join me?"

Dina closed her eyes for a moment. Would it be wise for her to say no now and join Feléna? If she simply followed the two women and spent the evening at home, she wouldn't have to take any oath tonight. But Feléna...? How would she take it? Wouldn't this be akin to suicide? Wouldn't Feléna see this as backing out, as willingly avoiding the oath? All her efforts put into Dina would be wasted, and Feléna was not one to forgive mistakes easily.

On the other side stood Iolthland, with his impressive appearance and title, and the enticing promise that he could free Dina from the official spy's oath. Although he hadn't outright said it, she knew full well that another oath would be required in exchange. Dina didn't want to follow this path either, yet somehow, she hoped that Iolthland's way might still leave her with some way out.

Dina looked into the charming green eyes and nodded. "Yes, my lord. I would like to. And I thank you for returning the favour."

Iolthland seemed pleased with her answer, and the realisation struck Dina's mind—just as it had with Feléna—mistakes were not tolerated by Iolthland either. That was your last mistake, she warned herself, and she already knew... It didn't matter how; somehow, she knew it would work—Iolthland would believe her. And she smiled. She smiled because she knew who had taught her this, and the memory of Zevran brought a genuine smile to her face. That was the best disguise: sincerity.

The lord looked at her smile with satisfaction, thinking it was meant for him. Then he calmly nodded, gesturing forward with dignity. "Onwards, Dina. A ruler never looks back."

Dina said nothing, not hinting that she had only survived Feléna's lair by looking back. Her past had provided the strength she needed to face the future. She merely blinked a few times and, lost in thought, lowered her head slightly, as usual.

Iolthland remained still, watching her. Finally, he reached out gently, touching her chin—not intrusively, just with the tips of his fingers, and slowly lifted her head up, positioning it proudly, at an angle unfamiliar to Dina. Then he released her, nodded, as if to say, yes, at my side, this is how you must walk. Dina didn't resist, only looked back into his eyes. This posture felt unnatural to her, for a thoughtful, contemplative girl, but she showed no sign of it to the lord.

Then Iolthland turned forward and, with grace, began to lead her.

What Dina experienced then exceeded her expectations. She knew they would attract attention; already several eyes had been on them, but she hadn't anticipated such a perfectly orchestrated scene, such a meticulously choreographed dance.

As the lord took his first step forward, in that instant, his entourage, like a flock of birds attuned to one another's thoughts through the subtlest motions, fell into line behind them. Dina almost turned to look at them.

From then on, every single gaze was fixed upon them. Dina saw the noble lords and ladies, marvelling, paying them both respect—not just to Iolthland, but also to her. She even caught a look of admiration from a group of young men—perhaps part of a semi-military unit—before they saluted, bowing as one. Then she saw her fellow spy apprentices in grey, whispering among themselves as they cast glances in their direction.

Then two servants sprang forward, placing their palms on the palace doors and opening them.

Dina and Iolthland were the first to step into the great hall, where the lavish floral decorations had yet to be admired by anyone else. Opposite them stood Iolthland's throne, flanked by a few servants, tables laden with refreshments and glittering bottles of wine, entertainers ready, doors leading to balconies at the sides, each guarded by a sentinel holding a lowered crossbow. Everything was prepared: the food, the drink, the entertainment, and the security. Dina now understood Gaelin's remark about Iolthland's parties—there was indeed no lack of anything here.

Dina couldn't help feeling frightened. In Iolthland's world, everything was so perfect, yet so foreign to her; she couldn't reveal her inner tension, so she just tightened her grip on the man's hand, perhaps without even realising it.

Iolthland did notice, though. He smiled faintly and returned the squeeze. Dina noticed only this, glancing at him with one eye, as he gave her a dignified, reassuring smile and continued holding her hand firmly. Don't worry. As long as you're by my side, I'll support you and teach you everything you need to know.

Iolthland guided Dina to the throne seat, followed by a curious crowd, filling the room with sounds of astonishment and satisfaction, which the lord seemed to listen to proudly. Then he stopped before the platform, turned to Dina, and without letting go of her hand, slowly bowed to her in a way so gradual and prolonged that it embarrassed her. He then kissed her hand, straightened, and nodded his thanks with a smile.

"It was my honour, Dina."

The girl simply couldn't reply. The moment Iolthland let go of her hand, her wrist stiffened as she pulled her arm toward herself. Fortunately, the lord was already making his way up to his throne, while Dina remained below, left alone, nervously fidgeting with her fingers, waiting as the guests filled the hall. Meanwhile, Iolthland watched them proudly, standing still. Once the room was filled, he opened his mouth to address them, warmly welcoming everyone. He listed, precisely and perhaps a bit lengthily, all that awaited his dear guests in the ballroom, then gestured toward the balconies on his left.

"...and over there, a real surprise—what we call, a hot-air balloon!"

Iolthland watched with shining eyes as the people surged towards the windows, each eager to see this marvel. In the palace garden, indeed, a small, round, colourful hot-air balloon floated, anchored to the ground with ropes. Artists in colourful costumes from various races—dwarves, elves, humans, even a few orcs—hung from it, some forming an eye-catching display for the spectators, who broke into a storm of applause. Iolthland laughed.

Dina tried to catch a glimpse of the spectacle too, but the crowd was too dense, and she could see only fragments over the heads.

Noticing this, Iolthland quickly announced that more performers would be walking among them—jugglers, a fire-breather in the garden, and mischievous clowns who might appear, amusing guests with tricks that mimicked magic.

Then Iolthland wished them all an enjoyable evening, and with that, the night began. There was not a word about the spy apprentices' oath ceremony, though they lingered in small groups, drinking, waiting for what only they knew.

Dina stood alone amidst the crowd, perhaps looking a bit lost since Iolthland had left her. Just then, a man with faintly elven features, dressed in a dashing uniform, approached her and politely, with an open gaze, asked her for a dance. Dina thought he was quite bold to dare ask the woman who had entered at the lord's side, so she didn't refuse him, instead nodding with a kind smile, and when the orchestra struck up a lively tune, she gladly danced with him. From him, she learned he was a member of the paramilitary organisation she'd seen upon their arrival, and she vaguely sensed they were somehow tied to the Veiler party. When the dance ended, he clicked his heels, thanked her, and moved on. Dina didn't mind; she thought she'd sit somewhere to rest, out of view for a bit. But just then, her companions descended upon her, four or five of them, surrounding her with shining eyes and asking her eagerly.

"What was that, Dina?" They addressed her by name, as if she didn't belong among them.

"Last time, you said Iolthland didn't even notice you, don't lie; he arrived in your company!"

"Have you spoken since?"

"Is he going to propose?"

"When?"

Dina didn't know whom to look at, only shook her head. "No... no... I don't know...!" She cast a pleading glance at the approaching man, who belonged to Iolthland's inner court, perhaps his secretary or another high-ranking Veiler official. The middle-aged elf man spoke to the group of girls courteously but reprovingly.

"Perhaps it would be more prudent if the ladies in grey didn't gather in such large groups and draw attention to themselves. Please, occupy yourselves."

The girls had no choice but to leave Dina, albeit not without a few reluctant glances. She was just about to thank the elf for his assistance, but she couldn't even look him in the eye, as he gave her a deep bow and backed away. Dina stared at the servile gesture in amazement, then her gaze rose to the figure on the throne. Iolthland was watching her, smiling.

Then the lord stood, slowly descended to her, and offered her his hand.

"May I have this dance?"

Dina nodded shyly. Iolthland put an arm around her waist, drew her into a dance position, and before twirling her in a brisk spin, he looked into her eyes. Dina remained present in the dance, taking in his pleasant scent, and though timid, she returned his gaze, letting him lead.

"What do you think of the celebration? Do you like it?"

"Of course, my lord." What else could she say? Then she quickly caught herself and corrected, "Your honour!"

Iolthland laughed. "Do you know who the ones are who may officially call me 'my lord'?"

Dina shook her head. "My family. But my mother and father are gone, my siblings far away, so I am left alone in this castle. So, it will be my future wife who calls me that."

Dina had a feeling that the flush on her face was not hidden from him, as he continued to watch her, amused.

The dance ended, and they bowed to each other politely, but Iolthland didn't let her go; holding her hand, quickly pulling her along. He took her into one small room after another—one filled with smoky card games, another where artists read poems, a third where there was a wine tasting. Iolthland picked himself and Dina a glass of deep red, then intertwined his arm with hers, taking a sip while looking deeply into her eyes.

"Excellent!" he exclaimed to the winemakers, who bowed proudly. Iolthland turned back to Dina, watching her face intently. "Come."

The girl sensed something behind the peculiar, suddenly serious tone. "Shouldn't I... my great lord, the oath...? I don't want to miss it...!"

Iolthland waved dismissively. "Don't worry; it begins when I signal it. For now, just come with me."

Dina took small steps, as if that could slow time, but she didn't dare truly hold him back. He led her to a secluded, spacious balcony, only half a floor above the ground, like a platform. From its edge, a marble staircase led down to the palace garden. Right across, the performers in the hot-air balloon were close, closer than to the crowd, and Dina could have examined their faces if she wanted, but she only looked at the ground. Inside, special music played, elven songs befitting the occasion, strangely neither soft nor gentle, the singer's voice clawing harshly at certain notes.

Two guards stood at each side of the balcony doors, and directly behind them, the court was assembled, as if awaiting something. So, while Iolthland may have considered this place private, it certainly wasn't for Dina. Perhaps the lord had grown used to never being alone as a ruler. Unbidden, the thought crossed her mind that maybe Iolthland was never alone, even in the bedroom, and the image of a wedding night surrounded by stone-faced guards flashed through her mind, a vision she quickly banished.

A long, cushioned bench stood facing out from the balcony. Iolthland stepped over and threw himself down joyfully, his hands on the armrests, legs somewhat spread, and perhaps it was the wine that made his movements more relaxed. Smiling, he watched Dina as she walked past and sat down beside him.

Dina's movements were far from so liberated; she still took small steps and hardly touched the red cushion. She kept her knees tightly together, arranging the fringes of her long grey skirt. Then she looked up. Iolthland was watching her, smiling.

The man leaned forward from the backrest, resting on his knees, though his smile and gaze didn't change.

"I find your pure ancestral features quite appealing, Dina. I find you beautiful."

It sounded strange, as if she could sense her own utility behind the compliment. But she believed Iolthland; he likely did find her beautiful. And still, it was a compliment—a man's compliment to a woman—and as such, it inevitably had an effect. Dina started to feel genuine pity for Iolthland. She lifted the corner of her mouth in a small smile. "Thank you."

The man laughed, shaking his lowered head before glancing up at her.

"So? The spy profession? Is that really what you want?"

Dina didn't know how to respond, only swallowed.

"Be honest with me. You can tell me."

In truth, she wasn't entirely convinced of this. Nevertheless, Iolthland's attempts at gentleness were endearing, and this slow kindness had managed to achieve something with her. She decided that perhaps it was safe to be honest, at least to some degree. After all, no one likely ever told the young lord a single genuine word. So, in response, she quietly shook her head.

Iolthland observed her for a long moment.

"You know why you're here with me, don't you?"

There was no point denying it. She swallowed.

"I'm looking for a bride, Dina."

As with any spoken words of power, these changed the atmosphere.

"My intentions are serious and straightforward. I don't have high demands. All I need is a noble lady who is beautiful, loyal to me and to the party, and who shares my way of thinking. The last one I'll grant to anyone until they betray it. The first two I see in you. You are beautiful, and loyal to something you don't even feel as your own. I can imagine you would be loyal to me too. Perhaps you would even come to love me."

Dina blinked rapidly, feeling flustered. "Your honour is hardly a hideous creature whom one couldn't love."

"And what do you think? Could you?"

Dina couldn't answer. She simply couldn't. The truth was, perhaps she could feel some attachment to him, but she wasn't ready to admit that, she'd already been too honest with Iolthland. She thought of resorting to her old trick, thinking of Zevran and letting those true feelings act as a shield against everything and everyone. But... she realized that was a double-edged sword. She couldn't give Iolthland any encouraging signals, but neither could she outright reject him. So, she sat there, unarmed, unsure what to say. Finally, she spoke the truth.

"I don't know. I don't know, your honour," she said, shaking her head desperately.

Iolthland sighed. "Then I suggest... perhaps we should give it a try."

He shifted closer to her on the bench, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and gently drawing her close. Dina tensed inwardly, not knowing if she could say no without consequences. Not that Iolthland's proximity was unpleasant—far from it, but...

Zevran!

The lord observed the girl with her head lowered, gently stroking her shoulder.

"Look at me, Dina."

She obeyed only halfway, her movement hesitant.

Iolthland touched her chin, lifting her face to his. His hand moved to her cheek.

Somewhere not far from them, fingers twitched on an outstretched hand, as though wanting to curl into a fist.

"My lord...! I..."

With closed eyes, Iolthland hushed her, resting his forehead against hers. "Hush. Don't say anything now."

"Please—"

"Ssh..."

His fingers brushed the back of her neck, his lips drawing closer, slow but certain.

Zevran! Come!

Dina felt trapped, her only escape was outright resistance. She abruptly raised her fingers between their faces and gently, yet firmly, pushed the lord back with both hands, breathing heavily as she turned forward. She avoided meeting Iolthland's fiery gaze.

He sat with a frown, unaccustomed to rejection. His gaze sharpened, his posture straightened, and he raised his chin.

Somewhere, a playful smile curved a mischievous mouth. She doesn't want you, blue-blooded buffoon!

When Dina raised her head again, she saw only the offended lord, the tender man gone. Iolthland turned away. "Why didn't you tell me right at the start?"

Dina had no answer. Inside, fear flooded her, though she didn't show it.

"It's time to return. And you should join those swearing oaths." He tossed the words out dryly, stood up, and without another glance, walked away from her.

She was left alone. She covered her eyes. She wanted to cry but... Her gaze wandered in distress, from the sky to the birds, the grass, to the airship of the performers across the field.

Zevran.

At first, she thought she was imagining it.

But no.

It was Zevran. He was hanging off the side of the airship with his companions, one hand gripping a rope. His other hand stretched out towards her, as if calling her. And he was looking at her, directly at her. Who knows how long he had been waiting there like that.

Come!

A sparkle returned to Dina's eyes. She stood up slowly, leaning forward even more slowly, wanting to be sure she wasn't mistaken. But no. She could not misidentify that frame, that face, that gaze.

Come, beautiful...!

Dina didn't think much about it; she didn't have anything left to reconsider. She looked at the airship, at the performer next to Zevran holding a knife, waiting for the right moment to cut the rope. Likely, the whole crew had been watching her all along... All they needed was for her to board the airship, which would rise as planned, vanishing from sight into the clouds, never to return.

Dina couldn't hold back her breath or her smile. She glanced back briefly, spotting Iolthland just within the doorway with his courtiers, no longer paying her any attention. That was all she needed.

Grabbing the hem of her long skirt, she began to run down the steps, then across the garden, faster and faster, heading straight for the man who still held his arm out, his grin growing as she approached.

"Come, my dear, Dina... Come..." Zevran only whispered, but she could read the familiar words from his lips and ran all the faster.

Then, she saw Zevran's eyes shift focus behind her, and the smile vanished from his face.

"Your honour!" One of the guards on the balcony called to Iolthland, pointing at the girl fleeing. Iolthland's lip curled in disgust as he watched the girl, on whom he had pinned such hopes moments ago, and saw the man holding out his arm, ready to catch her. Fury narrowed the lord's eyes, and he shouted to the guard.

"Aim!" He didn't wait for the outcome but stormed off toward the oath-taking ceremony.

It all happened in an instant. Dina turned back at the danger Zevran's face had alerted her to, perhaps even saw the arrow flying toward her, but there was no time to dodge it.