Three days after his meeting with Finn, Aldric received an invitation. It arrived in the form of a small, cream-colored card slipped under his door, the paper expensive and the handwriting elegant. Lady Marguerite Ashford requests the pleasure of your company at a gathering of minor nobility, tomorrow evening at eight. Dress appropriately.
Aldric stared at the card, his mind racing. Lady Marguerite was a distant cousin of Duchess Vivienne Ashford, one of the most powerful women in the Empire. An invitation to one of her gatherings was an opportunity to make connections, to be seen by people who mattered. But it was also a test. The minor nobility were a vicious lot, constantly jockeying for position and tearing each other down. If he made a fool of himself, word would spread, and his reputation would be destroyed before he'd even begun to build it.
He spent the next day preparing. He washed and mended his best clothes, practiced his etiquette, and rehearsed the kinds of conversations he might need to have. He couldn't afford to make a mistake.
That evening, he made his way to Lady Marguerite's townhouse in the Merchant District. It was a modest building by the standards of the truly wealthy, but it was still far grander than anything Aldric had ever lived in. A servant in livery answered the door and ushered him inside.
The gathering was already in full swing. Perhaps thirty people milled about in the drawing room, holding glasses of wine and engaging in animated conversation. They were all minor nobility like himself—second and third sons, daughters of impoverished houses, distant relatives of more important families. They wore their finest clothes and their brightest smiles, but Aldric could see the desperation beneath the polish. They were all here for the same reason he was: to claw their way up from the bottom.
Lady Marguerite herself was a handsome woman in her forties, her dark hair streaked with gray and her eyes sharp with intelligence. She greeted Aldric with a practiced smile.
"Lord Thorne, how delightful that you could join us. I've heard interesting things about you."
Aldric bowed. "I'm honored by the invitation, Lady Marguerite. Though I confess I'm surprised. I've only just arrived in the capital."
"Precisely why I invited you," she said. "Fresh blood is always welcome. And I like to keep an eye on promising newcomers." Her smile widened, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Do enjoy yourself. Mingle, make friends. You never know who might prove useful."
She moved away to greet another guest, leaving Aldric to navigate the room on his own. He accepted a glass of wine from a passing servant and began to circulate, listening more than he spoke.
The conversations were a mix of gossip, complaint, and barely veiled ambition. A young woman complained about the cost of fashionable dresses. A man grumbled about his family's declining fortunes. Another woman spoke in hushed tones about a scandal involving a High Lord and his mistress. Aldric filed it all away, noting who spoke to whom, who seemed influential, who seemed desperate.
He was approached by a thin man with a receding hairline and a nervous smile. "Lord Thorne, isn't it? I'm Percival Greaves. Pleased to make your acquaintance."
They shook hands, and Aldric sized him up. Percival's clothes were expensive but slightly out of fashion, suggesting he was trying to maintain appearances on a limited budget. His handshake was weak, his eyes darting around the room as if looking for someone more important to talk to.
"A pleasure," Aldric said. "Have you been in the capital long?"
"Three years," Percival said. "Came here hoping to make my fortune, like everyone else. Haven't had much luck, I'm afraid. The competition is fierce, and unless you have connections or magic, it's nearly impossible to get ahead."
"Magic," Aldric repeated. "I've noticed the mages seem to have all the real power here."
Percival laughed bitterly. "That's putting it mildly. If you're not a mage, you're nothing. Doesn't matter how smart you are, how hard you work. Without magic, you'll always be second-class. I tried to get into the Consortium Academy, but I couldn't afford the tuition. Now I'm stuck working as a clerk for a merchant house, barely making enough to survive."
"Have you considered... alternative methods?" Aldric asked carefully.
Percival's eyes widened. "You mean the black market? Gods, no. That's a death sentence. The Consortium executes anyone caught using illegal crystals. And even if you don't get caught, the crystals are so unstable that you're more likely to go mad than gain any real power. It's not worth the risk."
Aldric nodded, filing that opinion away. Percival was risk-averse, which made him useless as an ally but potentially useful as a source of information about what the cautious majority thought.
They chatted for a few more minutes before Percival excused himself to speak with someone else. Aldric continued to circulate, making small talk and gathering information. He was introduced to a dozen people whose names he immediately memorized, along with their family connections and their apparent levels of desperation.
Then he saw her.
She stood near the window, a glass of wine in her hand, watching the room with an expression of faint amusement. She was beautiful in a way that was almost unsettling—dark hair, pale skin, eyes the color of amber. Her dress was elegant but not ostentatious, suggesting wealth but not vulgarity. And there was something about the way she held herself, a confidence that set her apart from everyone else in the room.
Aldric found himself drawn to her. He crossed the room, his heart beating faster than it should.
"Good evening," he said. "I don't believe we've been introduced. I'm Aldric Thorne."
She turned to look at him, and he felt the full force of her gaze. It was like being examined by a predator deciding whether you were prey or competition.
"Selene," she said. Her voice was low and smooth, like honey. "No family name. I'm not nobility."
That surprised him. "Then how did you get an invitation to Lady Marguerite's gathering?"
Selene smiled, and it was a dangerous smile. "I provide a service that certain members of the nobility find valuable. Lady Marguerite is one of my patrons."
Understanding dawned. "You're a courtesan."
"Among other things," she said. "I'm also an excellent listener, a keeper of secrets, and a broker of information. People tell me things they wouldn't tell anyone else. And sometimes, I share those things with people who can make use of them. For a price, of course."
Aldric felt a thrill of excitement. This was exactly the kind of person he needed to know. "That sounds like a dangerous profession."
"Life is dangerous," Selene said. "The question is whether you're smart enough to navigate the dangers and profit from them. Most people aren't. They stumble through life, reacting to events rather than shaping them. But you..." She studied him with those unsettling amber eyes. "You're different. I can see it. You're a planner. A thinker. You see the game being played, and you want to play it better than anyone else."
"Is it that obvious?" Aldric asked.
"To me, yes. I've spent years learning to read people. It's how I survive. And you, Aldric Thorne, are an interesting puzzle. A minor noble with no money and no prospects, yet you carry yourself like someone who expects to succeed. That suggests either delusion or genuine capability. I'm curious to see which it is."
"I could say the same about you," Aldric said. "A courtesan who moves in noble circles and trades in information. That suggests either exceptional skill or exceptional luck."
Selene laughed, a sound like music. "Oh, I like you. You're quick. Most of the nobles here are so busy trying to impress each other that they don't actually think. But you're different. You're watching, learning, calculating. That's good. That's how you survive in this city."
They talked for the next hour, and Aldric found himself genuinely enjoying the conversation. Selene was brilliant and ruthless, with a sharp wit and a cynical view of the world that matched his own. She told him stories about the noble houses, their scandals and their secrets, painting a picture of a society built on lies and manipulation. And she asked him questions, probing gently but persistently, trying to understand what he wanted and what he was willing to do to get it.
By the end of the evening, they had reached an unspoken understanding. They were both outsiders, both trying to claw their way up from the bottom. They could help each other, if they were careful.
As the gathering wound down, Selene leaned in close, her lips nearly brushing his ear. "If you're serious about making something of yourself in this city, come see me. I have an establishment in the Silk Quarter. Ask for me by name. We can discuss... opportunities."
Then she was gone, gliding away through the crowd like a ghost.
Aldric stood by the window, his mind racing. He'd come to this gathering hoping to make connections, and he'd succeeded beyond his expectations. Selene was dangerous, but she was also exactly what he needed—someone who understood the game and was willing to teach him how to play.
He left Lady Marguerite's townhouse with a sense of anticipation. The pieces were falling into place. He had a contact in the criminal underworld through Finn. He had a potential mentor in Selene. And he had a goal: to obtain a Luminous Crystal and begin his journey toward power.
The game was becoming more complex, but Aldric had always been good at complex games.
He walked back to the Copper Bell Inn through streets that were dark and dangerous, but he felt no fear. He was beginning to understand this city, to see the patterns beneath the chaos. And he was beginning to believe that he could not only survive here, but thrive.
The capital had eaten a hundred boys like him, Mrs. Keller had said. But Aldric Thorne wasn't like those other boys.
He was going to be the one who ate the capital.