The Hall of Nine Lamps exhaled into its softer hours. Music slipped from formal figures into something looser—strings leaning into almost-swing, flutes laughing under their breath. The great chandeliers burned warm and low, each prism now properly groomed, each tear-drop crystal reflecting me as I was: long coat, bellglass pleats, sash quietly insisting he/him with every turn.
My feet knew they should be tired; my body disagreed. Lysithea sat light on my hip, a polite weight; my Cantor's vestment hugged my waist just enough to remind me of how many eyes had been on it tonight. Aurelia, somewhere in the crowd, was currently making an overbold viscount reconsider his opinions on "feminine-looking men" via a conversation about armored footwork.
I needed air that wasn't scented with twelve competing perfumes and the anxious sugar of desserts.
The balcony doors stood ajar, their glass panels holding polite reflections of couples pretending not to flirt. I touched the rail in passing, letting a minimal Peal run under the frame—just enough to keep eavesdropping polite and knives honest.
"Step Sentence—balcony brace," I murmured. A thin Sunline sketched the threshold; the marble beyond accepted the clause: Ask; don't assume; no loud Novas where stars are trying to work.
The night outside was a cool bowl of indigo. Noonspire's lanterns stepped down the towers in respectful gradients—bright at the plazas, dim at the high gardens. The air tasted of cedar, stone, and a hint of the Lantern Covenant's new, steady flame. Above, the moon wore a thin halo, as if it had been peeking at our ball and gotten shy.
I braced my hands on the balcony rail, bellglass pleats whispering across my thighs as I leaned forward. The coat nipped in at my waist—tailor's evil, effective work—and the night air traced the back of my neck where the high collar ended. For the first time all evening, no one was staring at my curves.
"Dangerous," a voice said behind me, smooth as dark wine. "You appear unescorted."
I didn't jump, but my heartbeat considered it. Lord Caelion stepped into the balcony's reflected light, formal coat undone just enough at the throat to admit he was a mammal. His armor—when he wore it—was terrifying; tonight, he was all tailored lines and a ridiculous amount of composure.
"Pretty sure half the Shadow Guard is hiding in that potted laurel," I said, not turning yet. My reflection in the balcony glass showed his gaze catching at the narrow of my back where the coat cinched in. "And Aurelia is somewhere within 'punching distance' of every bad idea in the room."
"Ah, but I am not a bad idea," Caelion said. "I am a sanctioned suitor who has survived three separate interviews with your mother and a written examination on Wards & Weddings."
I huffed a laugh despite myself. "That chapter is mostly warnings."
"And I read every line," he said quietly, coming to stand beside me. Not too close; just enough that his warmth slid along my sleeve like the idea of a hand, not the hand itself. "Including the one about asking first."
He angled his body so we faced the city together, shoulders almost touching. The ballroom's music drifted out behind us—soft, suggestive, a waltz that had taken its corset off.
"May I…?" he began, and my heart jumped to every possible conclusion at once.
"Clarify the pronouns you intend to use for my brother," Aurelia said from the doorway.
She leaned against the frame, formal armor traded for a severe dress uniform that somehow looked more dangerous. Her Mandate stayed sheathed, but the way she watched Caelion suggested the steel was not the only edge in the room.
He inclined his head. "Sir Eirion. He/him. Noted, and enthusiastically adhered to."
My cuffs glimmered approval. Aurelia accepted this with a micro-nod and, after a deliberate sweep of the balcony for threats, retreated just far enough inside that we both knew she could cross that distance between heartbeats.
The stars felt closer for it.
┌──────────── BALCONY STATUS ───────────┐
│ Eirion — HP: 13,180 / 13,180 MP: 10 / 21,100 │
│ Aegis Hymn: 28% Oathbond: Linked (95%) │
│ Buffs: Court Key, Quiet Law, Hem Clause, Step Sentence │
│ Aurelia — HP: 12,460 / 12,460 │
│ Alert: Low (Mother present in palace; Guards near) │
└───────────────────────────────────────────────┘
Caelion rested his elbows on the rail, casual, but his eyes never stopped scanning the rooflines and shadowed arches. Serious man, ridiculous cheekbones. I wondered—not for the first time—how many of his smiles were for Court and how many were just for us.
"You're handling the attention well," he said. "Half the hall is trying to decide if you're a saint, a scandal, or a new problem their old etiquette manuals can't solve."
"And you?" I asked. "What category did you file me under?"
He took a measured breath. "Hazardous to composure," he said. "And non-transferable."
Heat slid from my ears down the back of my neck. My coat suddenly felt too snug at the waist. "That's not a proper legal classification."
He tilted his head closer, voice dropping into something that stroked along the line of my jaw without ever touching skin. "I'm willing to help draft the writ."
The night air felt thinner. My heart did a small, annoyed pirouette in my chest. Somewhere inside, Aurelia's presence flared—Oathbond picking up my rise in pulse, a wordless check-in.
Fine, I sent through the bond, more warmth than words. Mostly.
A ghost of pressure brushed my back—her rim not touching, just near. Attention, promise, threat to the world.
"You know," I said, aiming my tone at lightness and overshooting into something softer, "for a 'sanctioned suitor' you flirt like you're testing the tensile strength of a ward."
"That suggests I understand you," Caelion said. "You take pressure quite well, when it's properly routed."
His gaze dipped—briefly, hungrily—to where my coat hugged my hips before he dragged it back up to my face. The restraint made the moment more intimate, not less. My breath hitched. The balcony glass showed my cheeks warmed with a soft flush: androgyny tilted toward something almost indecently pretty.
"Careful," I said. "If you keep looking at me like that, Aurelia is going to start assigning you remedial spear drills."
"I would never," Aurelia said—from inside, but close enough that the words threaded the air.
Caelion's mouth quirked. "I would accept the drills."
The next line on his tongue never made it into the air.
A ripple passed over the nearest rooftop—the wrong kind of shadow, moving against the wind. The hair on my arms prickled. Lysithea hummed in her scabbard like a dog lifting its head.
"Down," Aurelia said, the instant before the first bolt hit the balcony's outer stone with a crack that spat dark sigils instead of sparks.
Caelion moved—not away, but closer—one hand bracing my shoulder as we swayed together, avoiding the splintering stone. Aurelia was already between us and the opening, shield angling to catch the second shot.
The bolt fizzed against her rim, oily darkness trying to crawl along the metal. Knight's Mandate shoved back; the curse broke like rotten teeth. Aurelia bared hers in response.
"Archer," she snapped. "DARK. Roofline, southwest."
The ball behind us didn't yet know it was in danger—the strings turned innocently into a new figure, oblivious.
"Three heartbeats," Caelion murmured near my ear, voice all steel now. "Then they realize the target isn't a queen but a cantor."
"Let's not give them time to update," I said, already moving.
I slapped my palm to the balcony rail, running Peal into the metal and out into the stone like nerves.
"Candlecross Ward—edge mode. Two lines," I breathed. Two hair-thin Sunlines stitched themselves along the edge of the balcony, turning it into a Civility Zone tuned for projectiles: anything crossing the line without permission would get Dazed & Shamed, even if it was just a bolt.
Caelion had a sword in his hand I hadn't seen him draw. He stepped into the open lane Aurelia carved, all smooth lethal intent; half his attention was still on my balance, which did unfair things to my insides.
The third bolt came in at a shallow angle, aiming for the narrow space between my ribs and the coat's buttons. It met the edge-mode Civility Zone, flared in embarrassment, and skittered off-course, embedding itself harmlessly in a stone carving of a lion who had not signed up for this.
"Status," Aurelia barked.
┌──────────── COMBAT SNAPSHOT ───────────┐
│ Threat: Unknown Dark Archer (DARK) │
│ Range: Medium (roofline southwest) │
│ Collateral Risk: Crowd (indoors) │
│ Eirion — HP: 13,180 / 13,180 MP: 10 / 21,100 │
│ Aegis Hymn: 28% Oathbond: Linked (96%) │
│ Aurelia — HP: 12,460 / 12,460 │
│ Caelion — HP: 14,020 / 14,020 (Guest Ally) │
│ Constraints: Indoors-adjacent → edge-casts; avoid glass shatter │
└───────────────────────────────────────────┘
I traced a rapid Sunline Suture from our balcony to the roof, a thin arc of light stitching through the air.
New Technique (Built): Horizon Suture — Sunline Suture + Bond Mirror (glass); a healing arc that uses window reflections as stepping stones; heals allies on pass-through, detonates vs DARK on final impact.
The arc leapt from balcony to upper window to roofline, kissing a guard in passing with a quick Mend before slamming into the hidden nook where the archer crouched. There was a yelp and a flash of DARK being rudely informed it was not welcome.
"Got them," I said. "Not dead. Annoyed."
"Good," Aurelia said. "I want them talking."
The archer, cloaked in moving shadow, sprang from cover and began to flee across the tiled roofs. For a heartbeat, silhouetted against the moon, they looked like a cut-out from some other story—lithe, armed, absolutely sure the world was their ladder.
"May I?" Caelion asked, and my heart did that stupid pirouette again because he asked even now.
"Edge-casts only," I said. "No big heroic skylight shattering."
He grinned—sharp, thrilled—and took off at a run. Aurelia vaulted the balcony rail a step behind him, her Mandate making their footing better and the archer's worse. I, lacking the instinct to jump immediately into empty air, did the sensible thing and made myself a path.
"Suture Bridge—roof walk." I cast twin Sunlines from balcony to roof to belltower, weaving a glowing bridge just a half-hand above the tiles. Each step along it fed Aegis Hymn a sip and healed allies ~3–4% as they ran.
Caelion hit the Bridge first, boots striking light that behaved like stone. Aurelia paced him a half stride back, shield angled to guard his blind side. From behind, I sang Tricant under my breath—Smite clipping at the archer's ankles, Mend riding up my companions' calves, Thread reinforcing the Bridge where roof seams complained.
The archer spun mid-run, firing three small bolts in a spread pattern meant to force choice. Caelion ducked the center shot; Aurelia took the one aimed at me on her rim; the third slapped into the Bridge itself.
"Watch—" she started.
The bolt's DARK sigil crawled, trying to turn my Suture Bridge into a snare.
"Redact," I hissed, burning the last word of my Tricant into the Bridge: Clause overridden; no hostile terms appended to Sunlines. The corruption sizzled and fell off like cheap jewelry.
We closed the distance. The archer backed toward the belltower's parapet, eyes glowing faintly with some borrowed DARK, cloak fluttering in a wind that didn't exist.
"You weren't part of the ball," I said, breath misting in the cooler air. "Who hired you?"
They spat something that tasted like contract language and contempt. The moonlight showed no crest on their collar—too clean. Mercenary, then.
"Doesn't matter," Aurelia said. "You pointed a weapon at my brother."
Caelion's gaze flicked to me—checking, always—and something in his jaw decided.
"Sir Eirion," he said, formal even with the wind and fight and my coat clinging indecently well to my hips. "With your permission… may we finish this together?"
It was ridiculous how strongly my heart reacted to those words in this context. Action, romance, and the sort of respect that felt more intimate than a hand at my waist.
"Yes," I breathed. "Together."
Oathbond surged—the bond recognizing pattern. I stepped forward onto the Bridge, Lysithea singing in my hand; Aurelia set her rim to my right, Caelion to my left. Three points of light, one lane.
"Twin Radiance: Keepers of the Dawn. Objective update," the System murmured against my inner ear.
New Sub-Objective: Identify and deter assassins targeting Oathbound & lawkeepers.
Bonus: Capture at least one operative alive; Oathbond ≥ 80%.
"Don't kill them," I said. "We need names."
Aurelia and Caelion nodded as one. Then we moved.
Aurelia went high—rim catching the first desperate shot, turning it into a harmless spark that drifted away like offended fireflies. Caelion went low—blade kissing the archer's knee just enough to ruin their stance without spilling more than pride. I slid in the opening they created, Lysithea tracing a bright line along the archer's bowarm.
On-hit Mend poured into the limb even as Smite punished the joint, locking it in a wash of pain that healed even as it reminded the body to drop the weapon. The bow clattered to the tiles. Aegis Hymn banked another 9% from the shunted force.
The archer tried to kick backward, to tumble off the parapet and vanish into the dark. Aurelia's rim pinned their cloak to the stone with a clang that made the bell in the tower below give a faint, disapproving note.
"Don't," she said.
I stepped close enough that the archer could see exactly how annoyed I was underneath the pretty. Hem Clause glimmered he/him on my cuffs; my coat's pleats swayed with my breathing, not theirs.
"Your aim is good," I said. "Your choice of target is not. Who wrote your contract?"
They sneered, then their eyes unfocused—the pupils dilating with a familiar, ugly DARK tug.
"Self-destruct command," Caelion snapped. "Some kind of oath-shock."
I moved without thinking, snapping a Sunline circle at the archer's feet. "Counter-Signature Sunline Gaol." The circle flared, severing the incoming oath-shock clause from its source.
New Technique (Built): Sunline Gaol — Counter-Signature + Civility Zone + Namespring Seal; traps a hostile contract clause in a ring of light; prevents self-terminating geasa from firing; subjects may be questioned safely (for a time).
The archer choked on a word that dissolved into harmless steam. Their shoulders slumped.
Somewhere far below, the ball continued—music and laughter and people still getting my pronouns wrong in ever-more creative ways that my rails would fix. Up here, on the Bridge, the night belonged to us.
I exhaled slowly, the adrenaline leaving my hands tingling. Caelion's palm hovered at my lower back, not quite touching, but close enough that my body registered heat and promise. Aurelia stood at my other side, shield firm at my six, Oathbond warm between us.
For a moment, the whole city seemed to be holding its breath.
┌──────────── POST-ENGAGEMENT ───────────┐
│ Threat: Dark Archer — CAPTURED ALIVE │
│ Hazards: No glass shattered; balcony intact │
│ HP — Eirion: 13,150 / 13,180 (minor strain) │
│ HP — Aurelia: 12,430 / 12,460 │
│ HP — Caelion: 13,980 / 14,020 │
│ MP: 4 / 21,100 │
│ Aegis Hymn: 41% residual │
│ Oathbond Harmony (peak): 98% │
│ New: Horizon Suture; Suture Bridge (roof); Sunline Gaol │
└────────────────────────────────────────────┘
The System placed a crisp note in the quest log.
┌───────────────────────────────────┐
│ TWIN RADIANCE: KEEPERS OF THE DAWN │
├───────────────────────────────────┤
│ Sub-Objective: Assassin identified & restrained — ✔ │
│ Bonus: Capture alive — ✔ │
│ Rewards: │
│ ▸ EXP +32,000 │
│ ▸ Court Scrip +175 │
│ ▸ Lead: "Shadow Ledger" (unknown patron) │
│ ▸ Mastery: Counter-Signature +1 │
└───────────────────────────────────┘
We bound the archer with Lumen Thread and a polite amount of Mandate, then began the walk back along the glowing Bridge toward the palace.
Aurelia took point, because of course she did. Caelion stayed at my side, matching my pace, eyes sometimes on the captive, sometimes on the path, sometimes for a beat too long to be accidental—on the way my coat flared with each step.
"Still dangerous," he murmured quietly. "You in moonlight, in that coat."
"You're the one who asked to finish together," I said, and was absurdly proud when my voice only trembled a little.
Aurelia's snort floated back to us on the night air. "If he trips staring at your hips, I'm writing it into the official report."
Caelion laughed, low and warm. "Then I will just have to train harder," he said. "So I can watch him and still keep perfect footing."
Heat climbed my neck again. The city below yawned into midnight. Above us, the bells of Noonspire kept their own counsel, but I could almost hear them smiling.
"Still guarding my six?" I asked as we stepped back through the balcony doors into music, light, and the complicated joy of being seen and wanted and protected all at once.
Aurelia's rim brushed my shoulder—a promise. "In a world where assassins and suitors line up in the same evening?" she said, dry as good bread. "Especially."
Caelion, at my other side, didn't argue the word suitor.
He didn't have to.