Bonus Chapter- A Formal Affair (ft. Minor Crimes & One Doomferret)

Akalis had been invited to a Marked family’s house. They were holding a celebration for their newly awakened daughter. Entirely unnecessary, in her opinion. Still, she needed Kade to be seen before rumors twisted themselves into something unmanageable.

Her gaze slid to her newly claimed son.

She already had one of those. A son, that is. Stubborn. Difficult. Fond of long silences and swords.

This new one? Smiley. Distractingly so. And dressed abysmally most of the time. She was beginning to discover that beneath the grins, he was just as immovable as her first.

Her shiny new project, ahem, son, had little patience for the fine coats, tailored shoes, or exquisite embroidery she had graciously laid at his feet. He looked at her wardrobe choices as if they were cursed relics.

Insulting, really. Most days she allowed him to sully himself however he liked.

But not tonight.

Tonight, she held up a gold-trimmed, white coat with quiet triumph, coaxing him with a smile.

“You’ll look powerful in this. Possibly terrifying.”

Kade leveled her with a stare, long and flat, like a child forced to drink bitter medicine, fully aware of the trick, wholly unwilling to swallow.

“I’d look like a chandelier.”

She dismissed the objection with a flick of her fingers. “A very noble chandelier.”

“Why can’t I wear something else?”

Akalis was already dressed: a gown of cascading midnight silks, her hair coiled into an elegant crown, pale stone pins scattered like fragments of starlight. She looked perfect. And she would look even more perfect with her two sons flanking her in their matching white coats.

She studied Kade, then the coat in her hands. Yes. Exactly as she had envisioned.

“Because I said so.” Her voice dropped like a decree.

Kade didn’t argue further. He only stared, harder and sadder, those eyes weighted with quiet misery.

Akalis sighed, half exasperated, half charmed. She was far too susceptible to small, adorable things. Kittens. Boys with rare magical potential.

By the windows, Galir shifted. His own white coat was cut to the same extravagant standard, crisp and formal. Arms folded, voice dry as dust, he told Kade,

“It won’t work. Mother always gets her way.”

Akalis considered the truth in his words with the faintest pride, ruined, of course, by his insolent tone. Her firstborn had always been an unruly cub, sly with his words and slyer with his silences. She still wondered where he had gotten it from. His father had been the most blunt, unsubtle man alive. And he certainly didn't get it from her, of course.

She skewered Galir with a look. “You be quiet.”

Really, she ought to have birthed only daughters instead. Someone sweet-tempered, obedient, delighted to be draped in silk and jewels like little Bilia.

All she wanted was a son who was Marked, powerful, and well-dressed.

Truly, was that so impossible?

Kade was forced into the coat, of course. But once defeated, he surrendered with unnerving grace. The sulk evaporated. His gleaming smile returned as he compared his finery with Galir’s and decided it wasn’t as terrible as his after all.

Poor boy. He had already noticed that Galir, despite his marble expression, actually enjoyed the teasing. What Kade did not understand, (what only Akalis recognized) was why. It gave Galir endless chances to sharpen that biting wit on a willing target. A pastime he relished.

Where he had inherited that taste for subtle cruelty remained a mystery.

Akalis stepped back, surveying them both. Galir stood polished and regal. Kade looked princely despite the stiffness of his stance. She allowed herself a small, satisfied nod.

“It’s fortunate I have strong blood,” she murmured, mostly to herself. “At least you’re both easy on the eyes.”

The two boys exchanged a look of mutual suffering.

“I hate it when you say things like that,” Galir said flatly.

“I’m not even related to you,” Kade protested, incredulous. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Akalis smiled serenely, entirely unbothered, and offered her arm to Kade. “Details.”

He hesitated only a moment before taking it, beaming as though he had won something.

Together, the three of them stepped into the corridor, into the light, and into the waiting court.

****

The gala felt like an overstuffed jewel box. Chandeliers dripped with intricate glass, silver trays gleamed under a hundred candles, and sorcerers sparkled with embroidery and silk, their laughter rising in neat crescendos.

It was gaudy. Vulgar, even. Which was precisely why Akalis enjoyed it.

She entered without hesitation, and the room bent around her as it should. The Marked whispered, stiffened, re-arranged themselves to be standing straighter, smiling brighter, as though posture and charm could protect them from her notice and judgment.

Akalis glided past, serene as moonlight. Her sons followed, contrasting shadows, Galir in his dignified fine looks, Kade in his innocent charming flare. Two halves of a statement.

Yes, they were looking.

Good.

Akalis smiled faintly, already thinking ahead to whose egos she would cool, whose whispers she would drown in honey before they grew teeth.

Behind her, Kade leaned toward Galir, murmuring, “They’re staring.”

“They’re always staring,” Galir assured.

Kade smiled to a particular set of eyes that watched him like a hawk. “Guess I’ll wave, then.”

Akalis’s gaze sharpened. “You will do no such thing.”

His hand froze halfway up, and his grin collapsed into something sheepish. “Right. No waving.”

****

The doors at the far end swung open.

Velis Toliar stepped in with the kind of composure that should have granted him protection. His attire black instead of the crimson uniform he usually wore, with subtle silver thread, he was the picture of the restrained power and prestige his family was known for.

Unfortunately, the restraint power had found its match that night.

Because the moment he was spotted, the swarm descended.

They came in waves, sorcerers with bright adoring eyes, heirs glittering with too much jewelry and fancy silks, and ambitious daughters and sons of minor families who smelled opportunity and dove teeth-first.

“Velis, honor me with a dance!”

“You must tell me what draper's work you wear…”

“How come you are rarely ever seen in these celebrations?”

“Date me!”

“No, date me!”

Velis’s composure never cracked. He parried them all with flawless, almost mechanical politeness.

“I do not dance.”

“I am wearing Jilsir.”

“My work keeps me busy.”

“No, I am not dating anyone tonight.”

The swarm only pressed closer, drunk on the pleasure of being refused so elegantly. Apparently, even being turned down by Velis was a cause for happiness. He looked at me. He talked to me, was heard a few times.

Akalis passed by at a distance, pausing long enough to let her gaze linger on the spectacle.

Kade winced. “That looks painful.”

Galir hummed without interest.

At the wall, Hanel sipped from his glass, watching with a cool detachment he perfected for such occasions.

The crowd was growing larger around Velis. His usual collected expression was getting fried at the edges.

“Shouldn’t we… help him?” Kade asked his mentor, almost pleading.

Hanel’s lips curved. “Popular brats can handle the cost of their charm.”

Kade blinked. Then snorted. “That’s the most jealous thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

Hanel did not bother to deny it.

****

The moment broke when a flicker darted at the edge of Kade’s vision.

Something small and quick. Gone before the eye could fix on it.

Kade stiffened. “Did you see that?”

“See what?” Galir asked, still watching Velis’s mobbing with vague amusement.

“That.” Kade pointed toward the banquet tables where velvet cloth nearly kissed the floor. “That was a Skael.”

Galir finally turned. “You’re certain?”

“I’d know that little slither anywhere. Why is there a Skael at a party?”

Galir’s mouth tightened. “That’s a good question.”

“Which means we have to catch it.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes!”

And with that, Kade was already sliding between sorcerers, eyes delighted, grinning as though the night had finally improved.

Galir sighed, handed his half-empty glass to a passing servant, and followed.

****

On the other side of the hall, Ayen, wearing a breathtaking dress of pale pink, and looking like the finest young lady in attendance, was conducting her own chaos.

“Three statements,” she declared, a wine glass raised like a weapon. “Two true, one false. Loser drinks.”

She pointed at the circle of Marked sorcerers around her, all flushed from drink, all losing to her.

“I once stole a guard's sword, I once kissed a foreign diplomat, and I once set fire to a carriage.”

“Lie is the diplomat!”

“No, the carriage!”

Ayen grinned, sharp as a knife. “Wrong. The sword. I stole his entire armor.”

The crowd roared. Drinks sloshed.

Kade, spotting her mid-chase, brightened. “We could ask her to help.”

Galir’s voice was instant and sharp. “No.”

“She’s good at controlling madness!”

“Exactly why not.”

Kade pouted but kept moving.

****

Hanel was finishing his drink in peace, when Kade suddenly whirled on him.

“You are here. Perfect.”

“What was that?”

“You’re old,” Kade said cheerfully. “Old people know things. And you don’t terrify small animals the way Akalis does.”

Galir added, without looking away from the banquet tables where the Skael slipped again, “He means he isn’t scared of you the way he is of Mother.”

Hanel’s brows drew together. Giving his best unimpressed look. “Was that supposed to be a compliment?”

Kade bounced on his feet. “Of course it was. Come on, Hanel.”

And before Hanel could object, Kade had grabbed his sleeve and dragged him toward the tables.

Galir, to Kade’s delight, nodded gravely. “We need your help, Hanel. It is a Skael, we never dealt with one before.”

Hanel eyed him in surprise. Galir never admitted he needed help with anything.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“See? He agrees it is serious!” Kade ducked under the tablecloth.

Galir remained standing where he was, arms folded, gaze passive. He had no intention of crawling anywhere.

Hanel noticed it too late.

The little devil, son of Akalis! He thought.

Hanel sighed and went after Kade. “This will not end well.”

****

Sneaking under banquet tables was not subtle.

Not when Kade was involved.

He spotted the Skael, a quick dart of fur beneath a roasted pheasant, and lunged with all the delicacy of a catapult.

The pheasant went flying.

It landed squarely on the silk lap of Marked Resvin, who shrieked as grease and herbs soaked into her gown.

“Oh no,” Kade whispered, crawling deeper. “That wasn’t me, right?”

“It was,” Hanel said flatly, crouched beside him.

Then the Skael darted again. Kade lunged again. This time he collided with a jug of wine.

Red flooded the floor. Marked stumbled back. Someone shouted about sabotage.

Plates slid, a cake toppled, forks clattered like metallic rain.

Galir stood above it all, pristine in white, watching the chaos unfold with an expression so flat it bordered on art.

“Mother will kill you,” he said to Kade, voice calm as a blade.

Kade crawled after the creature, undeterred. “Not if I catch it and save the night!”

****

The Skael decided it had enough of table skirmishes. It bolted into open view, fur bristling, fangs bared.

Panic rippled instantly. Sorcerers shrieked, tripping over their drunk feet as they scrambled to protect themselves. No one wanted their magic drained.

The creature darted straight toward Velis.

He was, at that moment, still cornered by three persistent sorcerers arguing over who had the right to dance with him first.

Velis’s jaw flexed once. He looked down.

And in one smooth, elegant motion, he bent, caught the Skael by the scruff, and lifted it.

The weasel-like beast writhed, snapping. Sparks fizzled uselessly against the silver embroidered in his sleeve.

The hall froze.

Velis turned slowly, his eyes landing on Kade crawling from under a ruined tablecloth, hair full of crumbs.

The look Velis gave him could have salted earth.

Kade grinned sheepishly. “…Hi.”

Velis held the Skael out. His expression said everything: I should have known this was your doing.

Kade accepted the creature with both hands, beaming. “Thanks!”

Velis did not respond. He was swarmed again, and hailed as the most dashing of heroes.

****

By the time calm returned, Akalis stood at the host’s side, radiant, untouchable.

“Thank you for a flawless evening,” she said, her smile perfect, her dignity unsullied.

Behind her, reality was less pristine.

Kade’s coat was wine-stained, and missing a button.

Galir was silent, his expression begging to be released from existence.

Hanel rubbed his temples, exhaustion carved into every line of his face.

And in his corner, Velis looked as though he had aged a decade in one night, still being celebrated in awe of his effortless capture.

Ayen leaned casually over Kade’s shoulder, peering at the now caged Skael snapping its teeth.

“I’m naming it,” she announced. “Glimmer. Or Nibbles. Ooh… What about Doomferret?”

The Skael hissed.

Hanel crouched, extending his hand. A flicker of his magic hummed from his fingers, so soft a light it barely stirred the air. The Skael froze, then settled, shuddering once before going still.

Kade gaped. “You could do that this whole time?!”

“You never asked,” Hanel said.

Two Marked passed by in confusion, whispering: “Isn’t that Galir’s servant?”

“I am not his servant!” Kade shouted after them, furious. It was his tenth correction that night.

The music struck up again, determined to salvage dignity. Sorcerers laughed too loudly, pretending nothing had happened.

Akalis herded them out, her victory intact.

The night closed with perfection… at least for her.