Before Iliana could think of what to do after Nicolet's departure, a nobleman offered her a bow and an extended hand. Unwilling to retreat--as that would mean going to Zuher--she accepted and allowed herself to be swept into another dance.

And another.

And another.

It wasn't until her feet started to ache that Iliana realized what was happening. The heat of Zuher's eyes on her back, the gleam in the nobles' eyes, the ladies' whispers barely muffled by lace fans, it all twisted into a chilling plot.

It was another battleline. And, somehow, one even more dangerous than the challenge Zuher had settled before her. While Zuher would no doubt view Nicolet's interference as a show of loyalty--he had pulled her away from Del, after all--the others were laying down a quiet gauntlet. They were showing her their faces and whispering names that she carefully filed away. And they did so in plain view of an emperor who clearly wished she would return to his side.

Anyone who offered to dance was a potential ally.

Time passed in a blur of titles and murmured greetings so quiet she had to struggle to catch their meanings above the undercurrent of music and conversation. Her mind felt flush with information, to the point she was worried she would recall none of them after the party died. It wouldn't be without effort, however, as she carefully examined everything about every soul to approach her.

It wasn't until the far doors opened again, and an announcement echoed above the buzz of voices, that Iliana pulled her attention from her dance partners.

"Ales of Zuher."

The title left an uncomfortable lump in her chest. Somehow, hearing it applied to him made the situation even worse. A sensation that only grew as she reflexively released her partner and turned to face the stairs.

If she hadn't known what state he was in prior to the ball, Iliana never would have guessed. Like Zuher, he gave off the air of someone who was purposefully a mess. His suit jacket was nowhere to be seen and the sleeves of his black-and-crimson three-piece were rolled up his forearms. His hair hung as it pleased. And as he strode forward, one hand stoved into the pocket of his pants, there wasn't a single falter in his steps. Whether he had been healed, or he was simply ignoring the hidden pain, Iliana had no idea.

All she knew was that with each step he took, that cocky amusement curled onto his lips, Iliana found herself more-and-more unable to summon an ounce of hate.

Within a minute of his arrival, Lykos drew even with her. He didn't pause, however, instead just raising a hand to ruffle her carefully pinned hair as he passed. It was enough. Familiar embers of anger sparked in her chest as Iliana spun to face his back.

"Bastard."

He grinned, but didn't stop until he reached the base of Zuher's stairs. From there he dropped into a deep bow.

"Master."

Irritation glimmered in Zuher's gaze. His fingers curled over the arm of his throne, digging deep past the surface of the onyx. She couldn't tell if it was due to her own actions, or Lykos' bold fashion choice. But, after a long, silent minute as the crowd seemed to hold their breath, Zuher sighed and relaxed his grip.

"You test my patience, Ales."

Lykos didn't reply. Was it etiquette? Or did he just have nothing to say that wouldn't worsen the situation?

"Go. I don't want to see your face. Your eyes annoy me."

Lykos gave a small nod of his head and stood. Then, without another word, he pressed into the crowded floor and disappeared. Iliana took a step--intending to follow him and inquire about the matter Aran had brought up before--but froze as Zuher cleared his throat.

His black eyes seemed to burn like coal as Iliana met his gaze. Then, with his scowl lifting into a thoughtful smirk, he stood.

"A new song, please." He had barely finished his dismissive wave at the orchestra before the shuffle of papers, and the frantic, low-tone of the conductor brushed the air.

Zuher reached her just as the first, low hum of a violin fully chilled the silent room. The empty floor around them grew as the crowd pressed back, not willing to be near the emperor in his current mood. He extended his hand towards her, then paused with a thoughtful tilt of his head. Within the breath of a second, he was at her side.

"I've a better idea," he mused. "Let's have fun, shall we?"

He dropped a heavy, painful hand on her shoulder. His nails dug through the thin fabric of her dress, and she could hear a soft curse from somewhere in the crowd. Don't come here, she willed him.

Del interfering would only make whatever was traveling through Zuher's mind worse.

"You, stop," Zuher ordered.

The conductor froze as the emperor spun away from her to face the orchestra. Then, without warning, Zuher propelled Iliana towards the group. She stumbled, just barely managing to find her balance instead of tripping.

"You said you were nobility, once."

Iliana had said she was fallen nobility.

"Play something."

It was a baffling order. In the midst of a ball hardly seemed the place to test her--as far as he knew--nonexistent skills. But, then again, perhaps that was the point.

She had humiliated him, so he intended to return the favor.

Iliana almost laughed. It had been years since she touched a piano. She could barely remember the names of the keys--there had been so many more important things since then for her to memorize--yet, somehow, unfounded confidence settled into her bones. If he wanted her to play, she would play. And she would play well.

It was stupid. If he intended to humiliate her, she should allow it. But, she didn't have to.

So, with her shoulders back, Iliana dipped into a low curtsy. "As you wish, Your Imperial Majesty."

Chairs shifted out of the way as the orchestra scrambled to avoid her path to the piano. Again, she could feel his eyes burning into her. She didn't turn to meet his gaze, however, as she settled onto the piano bench and flexed her fingers. Uncertainty flicked through her as she skimmed her mind for a song complicated enough to be impressive, but not so much that the years could have stolen the chords from her mind. Not a single piece came to mind. The keys became meaningless the longer she stared at them.

She straightened into the perfect posture her tutor had drummed into her, before ghosting the ivories with her fingertips as if that could summon any memory to the front of her mind. But, it couldn't. And the harder she tried to grasp them, the more slippery they became.

Please. Her fingers found the fox necklace, but it wasn't Koun on her mind as she sent a prayer to whomever might hear. You owe me this much.

Koun had said that Zuher couldn't completely erase the gods from Reotak--not when the objects of their domains still existed. Which meant that at a ball, no matter how little worship to Inna remained in the country, she would still have power. Because Inna was art--and therefore music.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the softest of sighs drifted through Iliana's mind, followed by a memory surging to the front. She could feel the notes in her fingers, and the melody in her heart. Gods. She could practically hear her tutor's guidance in her ears. Her hands ached with the effort it took to not immediately launch into the song.

Thank you.

"Well?" Zuher prompted. He sounded a breath away, as if he'd strolled through the orchestra at some point during her panicked pause. His hand fell on her shoulder again. His nail trailed the side of her neck, and she shuddered. "Let's hear it, Pet. Or else I'll have to find another way to entertain myself."

Without further ado, Iliana played.

Her eyes fell shut as the melody flowed through her fingers and into the air. It started slow, soft, crawling along her skin until she launched into a quick pace that felt old and nostalgic in an uncomfortable way. Her perfect posture fell away as she bent over the keys, putting her entire body into the song that emerged.

She could feel it.

The notes hung in the air in the same manner of a siren song escaping her lips. They drew something from within her, feeding the tangle of fear, attraction, frustration, everything that was her, into the flow of music. And for a moment, she felt peaceful.

Nails dug into her shoulder, and suddenly she was falling.

The music held a stranglehold on her thoughts, muffling her understanding of how exactly she found herself hitting the floor. But, suddenly she was there, with an ache in her shoulder and Zuher not even a foot away. His eyes burned with displeasure--no, anger. And as her eyes skipped past him, she realized why.

There was a distinct otherness to the room. The crowd had drifted closer. Men, women, children barely old enough to have debuted. They had all drawn towards Iliana, and were now blinking and whispering amongst one another, the confusion in their faces clear. Fear sunk into her chest like an anchor.

Somehow, without a conscious decision to do so, Iliana had fallen into a song.

She'd enchanted them.

Before she moved, Zuher was on one knee before her. His grip caught her hair, dragging her eyes to him as he pulled her up. The ache snatched her swirling mind, forcing her to focus as he seized her chin with his other hand, tilting her face towards his own. His thumb dug into her skin with a bruising strength, only doubled as his touch drew something from within her. Iliana's hands grasped his wrist, desperate for a way to hold herself up that would lessen the strain of her hair in his fist.

"I said play, Pet. Nothing more."

The words were soft, even toned, but held a more chilling threat than any snarl could have. There was a promise of barely withheld violence in his grip. One wrong move and she would find out how far he was willing to go in public.

"I--"

The pain from his grip spiked. Drawing something heavy from within her. Strength fled her limbs, hands going limp, as she found it impossible to focus on anything else.

"I didn't say you could speak."

For a long, silent moment, she hung in his grip, unable to parse anything but the fear in her veins, and the anger in his eyes. Struggling seemed pointless. There wasn't a single person in the room that could help her. And her body refused to do anything but feel.

Then, slowly, his hand fell from her chin. A shudder crept over her skin as his fingers instead traced the tattoo, his expression studying the intricate curve of each petal. Each brush was another lace of pain that burrowed itself into her skin, soon sending patches of black creeping across Iliana's vision.

She couldn't breathe.

"You are bound. I feel the magic," he mused. "I suppose Aatami and I will need to have a talk. Until then--" The grip on her hair shifted lower. Suddenly, his fingers were there, gripping the base of her lace collar. Within seconds it fell away.

"Sleep."

Zuher's teeth cut into her neck. A cry sounded in her ears. Her own, perhaps? It was impossible to place amongst the sudden, sharp pain as blood caked her skin and black overtook her vision.

Then, nothing.