The Masquerade Ball of Pyreptar Academy occupied the grand West Wing ballroom—a cavernous hall where history and architecture bowed to the ambitions of the Great Houses.
Towering marble pillars, veined in pale obsidian and deep lapis lazuli, rose to meet a vaulted ceiling painted with star charts that shimmered under the shifting light of four colossal crystal chandeliers.
Deep crimson draperies framed the tall arched windows, and a live orchestra positioned upon a raised dais filled the cool, vaulted air with an undulating, measured waltz.
Servants in black-and-silver livery moved silently across the polished parquet floor, carrying silver trays laden with chilled fruit nectars and sparkling crystal flutes.
Outside, in the quieter corridors leading to the ballroom, the personal negotiations were already taking shape.
Edmund found Emily standing near the tall arched windows of the eastern gallery, watching the dusk settle over the academy courtyards.
