[The banquet hall was obscene.]
Gold leaf covered every surface that could be covered. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling like frozen waterfalls, their light scattering across the room in a thousand glittering fragments.
The ceiling soared three stories overhead, painted with elaborate frescoes depicting the seven Primordial Witches in various poses.
Crystal chandeliers hung, their light refracting into thousands of tiny rainbows that danced across the marble floors. Tables draped in white linen stretched the length of the room, laden with silver and crystal and arrangements of flowers that probably cost more than most witches made in a year.
Hoshimi stood at the entrance, his hands at his sides, his face carefully blank. His suit was new, black and perfectly fitted.
[I can't believe she spent an hour just choosing my outfit, does it really matter much when they all look the same? They're only going to glance at me, none of them are going to stare at my outfit for a long time]
His hair had been tamed into something approaching respectability. His shoes gleamed.
[This is excessive.]
[This is wasteful.]
[I don't belong here. I've never belonged anywhere like this.]
The room was already filling. Men in dark suits and women in evening gowns, their voices a low, constant murmur that filled the space like water filling a basin. Servants moved between them, carrying trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres, their faces carefully neutral, their eyes downcast.
Normal people. Those who sit in the back while the witches do all the work.
He kept his face blank. Pleasant. The expression Reina had drilled into him for hours, not quite a smile, not quite neutral, something in between that suggested polite interest without committing to any actual emotion.
Hoshimi watched them for a moment, then looked away.
"Hey."
Reina appeared beside him, a glass of champagne in her hand, her ginger hair swept up in an elaborate style that must have taken hours. Her dress was deep green, almost black, and it clung to her in ways that were probably inappropriate for a government function.
She looked beautiful.
"You look like you're going to a funeral," she added.
"I feel like I'm going to a funeral."
"It's basically the same thing." She took a sip of her champagne. "Rich people celebrating their own importance while the rest of us try not to die of boredom."
Hoshimi glanced at her. Then at his hands. Then at her.
"You look pretty."
"Awww, aren't you just a little charmer? If we weren't in a formal setting, I would've pulled you in for a hug and kissed you."
"I'd rather not."
[She's not wrong.]
"Come on." She hooked her arm through his.
The room was already filling with guests. Representatives from the great families, their symbols displayed prominently on sashes and pins and the occasional aggressively patterned tie. Government officials in dark suits, their eyes constantly moving, cataloging, assessing. Academy faculty in their formal robes, the elaborate embroidery denoting their rank and specialization.
And scattered throughout, a handful of top students, their Hex Academy uniforms replaced with formal wear that looked almost as uncomfortable as Hoshimi felt.
Kira was somewhere in the crowd. He'd seen her earlier, pale and trembling in a deep blue dress, her hands clutching a small handbag. She'd nodded at him, a small, tight movement, and then disappeared into the sea of bodies.
"Hoshimi Shirogane."
The voice came from his left. He turned.
A man stood there, tall and lean, his silver hair slicked back from a face that was all sharp angles and sharper eye, his amber eyes gleamed with something. He wore the deep crimson of the Walker family, a golden pin on his lapel marking him as someone important. His smile was polite, practiced, utterly without warmth. His suit was expensive, his smile seemed to be warm.
"I'm Marcus Walker," he said, extending a hand. "The brother of the head of the Walker family. I've heard so much about you."
[I'm sure this guy has, I was directly involved with their golden child after all]
Hoshimi took his hand. Firm grip. Not too long. Release. "It's an honor to meet you, sir."
"The honor is mine." Marcus's smile didn't reach his eyes. "The reincarnation of King Arthur. I heard that you were involved in the subjugation of Dominic Walker and the chaos at the Mirlo Estate. Quite the reputation."
"I was simply fortunate."
"The witch community is... abuzz with speculation about your sudden appearance."
"Speculation?"
"About your potential. Your future. Where you might fit in the grand scheme of things." His amber eyes gleamed. "The Walkers have always valued talent."
[Are they not trying to kill me? Or are they just trying to use me instead?]
"I'm flattered." Hoshimi's voice was flat. "But I'm still a student. My focus is on my studies."
"Of course, of course." The man nodded sagely. "But after graduation... well. Opportunities arise. Doors open. It would be a shame to let them close without at least peeking through."
"Anyways, about Dominic, I apologize for his death, if only I was a little bit stronger," Hoshimi said.
"Don't be. It's our fault for not taking proper care of him."
"Even then, I feel sorry for your loss."
"Are you?" Marcus's eyes glittered. "How kind. We'll be watching your career with great interest, Hoshimi Shirogane. Do try not to disappoint."
He melted back into the crowd before Hoshimi could respond.
A server passed with a tray of champagne flutes. Hoshimi took one, not because he wanted it, but because it gave his hands something to do. The bubbles tickled his nose.
Reina appeared at his elbow. "Maybe I was wrong about them being egotistical, but that was definitely a threat."
"I didn't miss it."
"Good. Talk to more people." She gestured with her champagne glass. "See that woman in the red dress? She's the first wife of the Smiths. Hope she doesn't kill you."
Hoshimi rolled his eyes.
"Hoshimi, we need to get you drunk." She took his hand and made him chug all of the champagne in his hand in one gulp and pressed her glass into his hand. "Here. You'll need this."
"Are you kidding me?" His throat burnt from the alcohol, he got slightly tipsy.
"Hoshimi Shirogane."
Another voice. Female this time. He turned.
She was beautiful, elegant, her dark hair swept back from a face that seemed carved from porcelain. Her eyes were the color of storm clouds.
"You must feel so alone," she murmured, her hand resting on his arm. "So isolated. The weight of what you are, what you carry... it must be crushing."
"I manage."
"Eliza Smith," she said. "I believe you met one of the children from my estate, unfortunately he died."
[I doubt she cares about a child's death that isn't hers but the patriarch must've been furious. I found out that David's sister is in the hospital, I guess the patriarch only gives a shit when one of the children die, probably because of their public reputation]
"My condolences," Hoshimi said.
"He was a child." Eliza's voice was flat. "A child with potential."
The conversations started to blur together.
[It's tiring to listen to these people]
A man from the government's Witch Department, speaking in vague terms about "exciting opportunities" and "mutually beneficial arrangements." A woman from one of the minor families, her eyes too bright, her smile too wide, offering connections and resources and protection. Another man, this one from the Academy's board of directors, asking pointed questions about Hoshimi's training, his abilities.
All of them wanting something. All of them offering something in return.
[That was also a threat.]
[I'm collecting them like trading cards.]
He set down the champagne flute. His hands were steady. They were always steady. But something in his chest had tightened, a coil of tension that hadn't been there before.
Reina appeared again. "You're getting better at that."
"At what?"
"Lying through your teeth without actually lying." She took her champagne glass back, draining it in one long swallow.
"I didn't know you were an alcoholic."
"I'm not." Reina took another sip from her glass. "Just because I have resistance doesn't mean I am one."
"Not that I would know the definition of one."
[This is pointless.]
[I'm just standing here while people take turns telling me they want me dead.]
A third figure approached. Older, distinguished, with the kind of face that belonged on currency. He introduced himself as a representative of the Witch's Department, asked polite questions about Hoshimi's studies, his training, his plans for the future. Hoshimi answered on autopilot.
[I hate social interactions. I feel like an outsider]
[I'm watching myself from somewhere outside my body. Watching this puppet go through the motions. Smile. Nod. Pretend to care about things that don't matter to people who don't matter.]
The man eventually drifted away, satisfied or bored or simply moving on to his next target. Hoshimi found himself alone near the edge of the room, his back against a marble pillar, his eyes fixed on nothing.
"Miss Reina, so where is this supposed envoy?"
"You've already met him."
"I have?"
[I don't remember anything that happened within the past 20 minutes.]
The noise of the banquet washed over him. Laughter. Clinking glasses. The low murmur of conversations that were really negotiations, threats, the same old dance.
[I need air]
The balcony was cold.
Not the sterile cold of the music room, but the clean, sharp cold of a winter night. The sky above was clear, scattered with stars that seemed too bright, too close, like holes punched in the fabric of darkness. The city spread out below, a tapestry of lights and shadows, distant and unreal.
Hoshimi leaned against the railing, his hands gripping the cold metal, his breath fogging in the air. The noise of the banquet filtered through the glass doors behind him, muffled, distant, like something happening in another world.
[I don't belong here. I don't belong anywhere.]
The door opened behind him.
"You look terrible."