“Look who arrived. He must have decided that he missed us.” Angeline poked her friend in the side, nudging her attention.
Thea cocked her head to the left. Despite the glittery gowns and violet faerie lights suspended throughout the ballroom, he was unmistakable. Vittorio Besk stood just beyond the bustling dance floor, his thick-set figure framed by tables and a small crowd of eager guests. Drink in hand, he seemed to be recounting one of his gloryseeker’s latest performances. The listeners were captivated by his animated gestures and booming voice. Then, with a pause and a wry smile, he turned to a nearby servant, giving a slight nod toward the serving area. The servant caught the gesture instantly, bowed, and scurried off to the kitchen.
“He took his time coming back to Lord Linus’s parties… What are the chances I end the night in his chambers?” Thea smirked.
Angeline turned, rolling her eyes as she surveyed Thea. “An old bag like you? Probably one in a myriad.”
“Who are you calling an old bag, you old bag!” Thea said, giving Angeline a frustrated kick. Her thick gown absorbed most of the force, but the message was clear. “I turned sixty-one last month. Isn’t it true that men love older women?”
Angeline laughed. “Perhaps, but this is Vittorio we’re talking about. He’s not known for that sort of… fraternization. I don’t think he’s ever had a relationship.”
Thea sighed. “Relationship or not, perhaps he’s in need of some… additional company. Especially with that Jindreíd boy running off and all.”
The servant reappeared from the kitchen, carefully balancing trays laden with porcelain plates. He handed one to Vittorio, bowing low before distributing the rest to his audience.
“To have your most promising ropewalker betray you like that… I couldn’t imagine. And after everything Vittorio did to advocate for athlete independence and streamline bookings for the northern arenas?” Angeline gushed. “He’s a titan in this industry. He ushered in Axis’ current athletics golden age.”
“It sounds like you should ask to take him home,” Thea teased, flashing Angeline a mischievous smile.
“Oh no, if you’re too old for him, I wouldn’t fare any better,” Angeline chuckled, fingering the gray streaks at her brow.
A burst of laughter erupted from Vittorio’s group. The two women watched as Vittorio waved and parted with his guests. He began walking clockwise around the dancing couples in the center of the hall, toward them. Thea gasped; he’d shot her a glance. Straightening the collar of his maroon coat, he walked closer. To Thea’s dismay, however, a tall man intercepted him, drawing his attention. Vittorio stopped, greeting the man with a smile.
“Oh, Angeline, you may have to hold me back when he finally makes his way over here. Did you see the way he looked at me?” Thea whispered. “If he asks me to dance, do the twisted-ankle bit. I’d prefer a more… private conversation with him.”
Angeline laughed. “Thea, it was a glance. He may just want to talk business. From what I’ve heard, he recently bought back his estranged father’s estate. He could be looking for your scribes’ services. That would be an awful lot of paperwork.”
Thea kicked her again. This time, Angeline stumbled slightly, wincing as she fought to keep her ladylike poise.
“Oh, just imagine me with a hero like Vittorio,” Thea said, ignoring her friend’s glare. “I’ve heard his brother’s death drove his drunken father mad, and Vittorio boxed like the hells to preserve his family’s name. It’s a shame Lord Duret stepped in to repossess the inheritance. Vittorio deserved it, and worked harder than his old fogy of a father ever did. I’d be thrilled to do business with him… any kind of business he’d like.” Thea puffed out her chest but couldn’t help laughing as she noticed Angeline’s look of mock disgust.
“You’re hopeless,” Angeline chuckled, placing a gentle hand on Thea’s shoulder. Her friend had always been a pack of thunderstones.
“Lady Devereaux, may I have this dance?” a deep voice inquired.
The two ladies spun around to see the barrel-chested man Thea had been admiring. He was dressed to noble standards, his deep crimson coat flattering his frame. His polished leather shoes reflected the purple glow of the faerie lights. His long brown hair was tied neatly at the back, and his beard was pristinely groomed. He extended a hand to Thea, crouching slightly.
“In truth, I can’t say I’m interested in dancing with you.” Thea lifted her chin, raising her hand to hide a blush. “You owe me an apology.”
Vittorio’s deep voice responded smoothly. “Which should I apologize for first: interrupting your discussion with the lovely Lady Baudette, or for my absence at the last three balls?”
“I suppose you can apologize for both at once,” Thea retorted. “But don’t expect such kindness in the future.”
“Of course not, my lady,” Vittorio replied with a humble bow. “It’s precisely why I thought to ask you to dance. A woman of your beauty and nobility deserves a night of excitement.”
“You certainly are thoughtful, Lord Besk,” Angeline interjected. “Though Lady Devereaux, sadly, twisted her ankle two days ago in a riding accident. We’re here simply to network. For business.”
Vittorio’s grin softened as he glanced down at Thea’s ankle. “A pity,” he murmured.
Feigning solemnity as she glanced at her uninjured leg, Thea added, “Lady Baudette speaks the truth… If I were in better condition, I might have considered it. However, if you’re here on business, I may be open to discussing terms.”
“Funny you should say that.” Vittorio’s eyes glinted as he looked at her. “I do have matters to discuss. I recently purchased my childhood home back from Lord Duret and would love to employ your scribes.” Angeline quickly caught Thea’s attention, mouthing, Told you so. Thea’s brow furrowed in annoyance, but she kept her composure under Vittorio’s steady gaze.
“If you’re interested in discussing terms,” Vittorio continued, “I’d love to show you the newly built Kjess arena. It’s large enough to tour in a carriage while we talk business. I’d hate to put your ankle in further jeopardy.”
Thea, frustrated with Angeline’s teasing, faced Vittorio, deciding it was time to take a chance.
“I’d be interested in discussing these terms,” she began with a smile, letting it droop slightly as she continued. “Though, I’m afraid my availability for the rest of the week is full. Tonight happens to be my only free night.” She held her breath.
Vittorio paused, glancing at Angeline and back at Thea, a light smirk spreading across his face. Leaning away from them, he raised his hand.
“Alistair!” he called coolly. Within moments, a slim man appeared, dressed in a buttoned linen shirt and a long navy coat. His coattails draped to his calves, and his face, though clean-shaven save for a mustache, displayed lines of experience. Both women were taken aback by the man’s prompt appearance, as if he’d been waiting in the shadows.
“Prepare my carriage for two and send word to Fabien at once.” Vittorio turned back to Thea, her face flushed. “Lady Devereaux will accompany me to the Kjess arena this evening. We have some business to discuss.”
“Of course, Master Besk,” the man responded. Alistair reached into his coat, producing a short piece of fine copper wire. He pressed it between his fingers, and the wire glowed red before vanishing. “Fabien is expecting you both. He will light the braziers so you may see the stadium in its full glory. I’ll await you both with the carriage outside.” With that, Alistair seemed to melt into the crowd as swiftly as he’d appeared.
“My, you have good help,” Thea stammered, and Angeline looked equally astonished.
“I’m particular about those I spend my time with…” Vittorio said, his gaze lingering warmly on Thea. He extended his hand to her once more. “May I?”
“Why, of course.” She accepted his arm, cheeks flushed, and glanced back at Angeline with a wink as they headed for the grand entrance.
The wyrm had begun setting as they stepped outside, casting brilliant yellow and red rays that reflected off the fountain, shooting rainbows across the ornate carriage waiting on the gravel road. Painted yellow with crimson and gold patterns around the wheels, the carriage was one of the finest Thea had ever seen. Alistair opened the small carriage door, extending his arm to help her up the iron footplate. She took his hand, settling into the plush interior, which was lined in gold and silver and smelled of freshly cut pine. Alistair shut the door behind her.
Her admiration was interrupted by a raised voice outside. Curious, Thea peered out the window to see a middle-aged man in a stained, tattered gambeson kneeling on the gravel before Vittorio.
“I swear I can pay you his debt, Master Besk!” the man cried, his voice thick with desperation. “Please, just give us two more weeks. Have mercy on my brother!”
Vittorio stood above the man, expression unreadable, his gaze unwavering as he observed the groveling plea. Guards from the hall moved swiftly, seizing the man by the arms to drag him toward the palace gate.
“You’re right, there must be some kind of mistake,” Vittorio responded, his voice just loud enough for Thea to hear through the glass. “My contacts will be in touch. I’ll do what I can to make this right.” As he turned to return to the carriage, Thea could have sworn she saw a faint smile cross his lips.
Vittorio entered and settled beside her, his face perfectly calm as he adjusted his coat.
“Is everything alright?” she asked, trying to mask the discomfort tightening in her chest.
“Oh, nothing to be concerned about.” Vittorio dismissed it with a dry tone. “Though I may have to cut our tour a touch short. It appears there are… responsibilities that need my attention.” He perked up, offering her a charming smile. “But I assure you, I’ll make up for my absence this time.” He winked.
Thea chuckled politely, though a trace of unease lingered. There was something ominous in his statement, a strange undercurrent that stirred her curiosity and doubt. Vittorio was, after all, primarily a gameskeeper—wasn’t he? Perhaps there had been financial strains in the construction of the new Kjess arena, simple mistakes in a large-scale project. Mistakes happened all the time, especially in fields as complex as finance… right?
But whispers had circulated of an unknown, powerful figure who was blackmailing and strong-arming the nobility of Axis. Could Vittorio, with his flawless appearance and reputation, really be that man? Of course not. He was much too polished, his presence too perfectly cultivated.
One in a myriad, she thought, though her own certainty had begun to waver.