The Gargoyles' Waltz

The mirror showed her nothing she could decipher. It never did.

Maya was behind her. The elf saw everything, and the sound she made was somewhere between approval and the particular resignation of someone who had spent twenty-two years watching a woman dress herself without ever seeing the results.

"You look like a prince," Maya said.

"I'm not a prince. I'm a professor."

"Same thing. With that suit, the students will be even more terrified of you."

"The students are already terrified. I defeated twenty-three of them in combat after all."

"Yes. That helped." Maya adjusted the collar. A signature white suit with a light grey vest underneath, tailored close through the shoulders, with gold buttons that matched the embroidery on Velena's blindfold. The white shirt was high-collared, intricately designed with detailed ornamentation. The trousers pressed to a knife's edge. Boots polished to a mirror shine. Her white hair was tied up in a neat ponytail. "No dress?"

"Dresses get in the way during combat."

"You're not supposed to be in combat. It's a ball."

"It's a ball full of politicians, nobles, and alumni who haven't seen each other in years. What if someone starts something, hm?"

"You're very optimistic."

"I'm realistic. There's a difference." Velena adjusted her cuffs. "Let's go."

---

The main hall had been transformed.

Velena couldn't see it, but Maya had described everything on the way in. The vaulted ceiling had been draped in banners bearing Heathermoor's crest, the fabric enchanted to shimmer with the colors of both kingdoms. Chandeliers of crystal and gold floated near the rafters, their candles flickering with flames that shifted from silver to gold depending on the music. The floor had been polished to a mirror shine. Long tables lined the walls, laden with food and drink. The air smelled of roasted meat and spiced wine.

The guests were dressed to match the extravagance. Elven elders in flowing silks that seemed to move with their own breeze, the fabric embroidered with patterns that shifted when you looked away. Dragonkin delegates in formal wear paired with some armor, their scales buffed to a gleam, their shoulder guards etched with clan sigils. Beast-kin chieftains were using leather accessories, their cloaks pinned with bone brooches that marked their lineage. Human nobles from both kingdoms in velvets and brocades, the Lumina contingent in pale blues and silvers, the Nocthyr delegation in deep reds and blacks.

The vampires stood near the back, away from the candlelight, their formal wear all sharp lines and dark gothic fabrics: high collars and long coats. The women in gowns pooled like liquid shadow. They moved through the crowd as they owned it, and perhaps they did.

Velena descended the staircase, her cane tapping against the marble, her free hand resting on the polished railing. The suit was almost entirely white, with a hint of light grey which made her stand out from everyone else. She walked like someone who belonged there, even if the voices around her said otherwise.

"Is that her? The blind one?"

"The professor? She's a woman."

"She doesn't look like much."

"Heard she beat Krähe. He probably let her win for political reasons."

"A woman in a suit…at a ball nonetheless? How unsightly."

She let them talk. She reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped into the crowd.

"Professor Ashworth." Frederick's voice rumbled from somewhere to her left. He was wearing formal dragonkin armor, his shoulder pad conduit polished to a gleam. Siegfried was coiled around his wrist like a living bracelet, his scales buffed for the occasion. "You look...quite different."

"Thank you."

"It wasn't a compliment."

"I'm choosing to receive it as one."

"Of course you are." He stepped closer. "The Nocthyr delegation arrived twenty minutes ago. No need to worry about your students. I checked in on them. Prince William is with them. He's wearing some kind of diplomatic sash. His fiancée Beatrice is in a red gown. The usual wolf-kin formal wear. She looks like she'd rather be anywhere else."

"Any other beast-kin?"

"Her grandmother is here. She's wearing the Wildborne chieftain's mantle. She's been glaring at the Nocthyr delegation since she walked in. Their family parasol has been strapped to her back. She hasn't let go of it once."

"Old grudges perhaps?"

"Very old. The Wildborne and Nocthyr have been fighting over territory for three generations. The marriage was supposed to ease tensions. Based on the grandmother's expression, it hasn't."

"Dragonkin?"

"Northern ranges. They're wearing ceremonial scale-polish. The elven elders from the eastern forests are near the refreshment table. From all I know, all they’ve been doing the entire time was gossip about the others."

"Elves are always judgmental."

"Present company excluded," Maya murmured from somewhere behind her.

"You're Maya. There's a difference."

"A few vampire nobles near the back," Frederick continued. "They're staying out of the candlelight. All the women are wearing these crazy expensive gowns that look like a whole year’s worth of salary for us." He took a glass of wine from a waiter nearby. "There's also a rumor the vampire princess is coming. No one's seen her yet, but her carriage was spotted at the border this morning."

Velena's grip on her cane tightened. "The vampire princess, huh…"

"Never seen her before. She never attended any of the previous anniversaries." He paused. "You're interested?"

"I'm curious."

"You're never just curious."

"That's what General Krähe said."

"Krähe's right for once." Frederick's voice shifted. "Speak of the devil."

Footsteps came towards them. She could hear the click of his heel yet again.

"Professor Ashworth." Krähe's voice was light. "You're wearing a suit."

"Observant as always, General."

"It's a very nice suit, darling. You look like you're about to duel someone."

"I'm always about to duel someone. It's a lifestyle choice."

Krähe stepped closer. She could feel him taking in the details. He was wearing the same general's coat he always wore, but underneath it his shirt was black silk, high-collared, paired with high-rise pants with an even darker shade. His boots had been polished to a shine that probably wasn't his doing. It was certainly more gothic and akin to a vampire’s formal attire than usual. The smaller beak mask was still in place.

Maya dragged Frederick away from the incoming commotion.

"You clean up well," he said. "For a gargoyle."

"Sounds like you’re wearing the same coat you always wear."

"It's a formal coat. I had it cleaned."

"For the first time?"

"Excuse you?! I clean it regularly every few weeks. Whether it needs it or not."

"That's ridiculous as well."

"Thank you, darling," Krähe paused after he deliberated. "You know what? I changed my mind on something.”

“What is it?”

“Dance with me."

"I don't dance."

Krähe chuckled. "Neither do I, but people are watching. If we stand here stiffly while everyone else dances, they'll talk."

"I don’t care. Let them talk about whatever they want."

“Even though they’re spouting some nonsense?! Bloody hell, I can’t believe I’m the one getting angry on your behalf." Krähe paused, his face lit up with an idea. He held out his hand. "One waltz. Prove to every noble in this room that the blind professor can do something they can't outdo."

"Which is?"

"Dance better than them while wearing a suit."

Despite herself, Velena smirked a cheeky grin at the idea. "Fine! One waltz, but if you step on my feet, I'm using the cane."

"Fair enough."

Velena attached her cane to the side using her hilt like a sword. She reached out towards him. He took her hand in his. His grip was cool but steady.

“Shall we?”

She let him lead her onto the dance floor. The orchestra swelled. The chandeliers flickered.

The woman in a white suit and the man in black military uniform danced together.

Around them, the other dancers moved in careful patterns. Velena couldn't see them, but she could feel them. The rustle of silk gowns, the click of polished heels, and the particular way the air shifted when two people turned in tandem. She could feel their gazes on her, too. The women in their ballgowns and their jewels, watching the blind professor in a suit, dancing with the masked general like she had every right to be there.

Some of them were whispering while staring. A few of them, especially the younger ones, were her students. They were watching the two with something that felt like pride.

Velena didn't care about any of them. She focused on the steps. On Krähe's hand at her waist and on the way he moved, light and precise, never faltering. He was too precise and smooth for a beginner. Krähe led Velena through the waltz like a natural. She did not have to do anything but follow the movement of his arm and body. This vampire had clearly been dancing for years.

"You're a liar," she said.

"I'm many things. Which lie are we discussing?"

"You said you didn't dance."

"I was simply agreeing to your notion of not wanting to dance."

"You're just evasive. There's a clear difference." She let him spin her, and when she came back to center, her voice was dry. "You dance like someone who's had years of formal training. You didn't stumble once nor step on my feet, and you’ve been leading me since the start."

"I'm a vampire. This is practically like breathing for us."

"You told me you didn't dance."

"I said 'neither do I.' That's not the same as 'I can't.' It's a subtle distinction."

"It's a lie by omission."

"It's a conversational strategy. I use it constantly."

"You owe me," Velena said. “That’s your second offence. Once for subbing for your combat class- which, by the way, ended with the students on the ground and one of them writing home to his mother about the blind woman who humiliated him…and another one for this dance."

"I don't recall agreeing to a debt system."

"I'm implementing one retroactively. It's called the Velena System of Favors Owed, or VSFO for short. I invented it just now."

"That's not how debts work, darling."

"It's how my debts work. I'm very innovative." Velena smirked again. She might have found an infinite money machine now.

The music swelled toward its crescendo. He spun her one final time.

When she came back to the center, they were closer than before. She could feel the warmth of his presence, and the void where his Key Tone should have been. He was much closer to her than usual, but she didn’t mind. Despite all that, she could still feel the faint hum of something buried so deep it was barely there.

"Fine," he said. "Two favors. What do you want?"

"I haven't decided yet. I'm saving them."

"You can't save favors. Favors expire."

"My favors don't expire. They accumulate interest. By next semester you'll owe me four."

"That's not-"

"It's in the terms and conditions. You agreed to them when you asked me to dance."

"I didn't sign anything, though?” he chuckled with amusement.

"It’s a verbal binding agreement. I have witnesses." She nodded toward where Maya was standing. "Maya heard everything."

"I heard nothing," Maya called back. "I'm staying out of this."

"Coward," Velena said.

Maya looked away as she clapped for them, a barely visible grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. Frederick followed suit, though his applause was more of a confused drumbeat, like he wasn't entirely sure what he'd just witnessed but felt obligated to acknowledge it.

The music ended. They didn't step apart right away.

Velena's hand was still in his. Krähe's other hand lingered at her waist, cool through the fabric of her suit. They were closer than the dance required. Close enough that her voice, when she spoke, was barely above a whisper.

"You're supposed to let go now," she said.

"I know."

"You're not letting go."

"I'm savoring the moment. You only danced with me because people were watching. I'm unlikely to get another opportunity."

"You're being dramatic. The music's still playing in my heart."

"That's the most ridiculous thing you've ever said."

"Thank you. I've been saving it."

She pulled her hand back. He let her, but slowly. His fingers brushed against her palm as they separated, and something in her chest did a complicated maneuver that she refused to name.

Around them, the crowd was applauding for the orchestra, the dancers, and for the spectacle of the evening. But somewhere in the back of the hall, a new sound arose.

Not applause, but something more muffled. The slow, deliberate clap of a single pair of gloved hands.

Velena turned toward it.

The temperature in the room dropped just slightly. The Key Tones around her flickered and muted, as if something was pressing down on them.

A woman's voice spoke. Smooth and cold as winter.

"General Krähe. Dancing with a human professor, I see! How delightfully unexpected!”

Velena didn't need her eyes to know who it was. She could feel it. The absence and abysmal void where a Key Tone should have been. This was a vampire who had been alive for centuries. She was a woman who had turned humans into creatures of the night and had stolen countless lives with it.

Her footsteps were slow and deliberate. The click of her heels resounded against the polished floor with the rustle of a gown that sounded like it was made of something heavier than silk.

"Your Highness," Krähe said. His voice was perfectly neutral. "I didn't know you were attending."

"I wanted to surprise you." The vampire princess stopped a few feet away. Velena could feel her gaze. She could smell her perfume. It was dark and heady, like night-blooming flowers. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your dance partner?"

A pause. "Professor Velena Ashworth. This is-"

"That’s enough. I recognize that name." The princess stepped closer. Her gown rustled. Velena caught the faint clink of jewelry. "The blind professor, I see. So this is the human who defeated you in combat and the first ever woman to teach at this university…You've been keeping interesting company, Krähe."

"We're simply colleagues, Your Highness."

"Of course you are." Another step. "I've heard so much about you, Professor Ashworth. Your reputation precedes you. You've made quite an impression on the student body and on me as well." Her voice dropped. "I do hope we'll have a chance to speak privately in the future. I have so many questions."

Velena's grip on her cane was white-knuckled. "I'm sure you do."

The vampire princess laughed. It was a voice that rang clearly, utterly without warmth. "I like her, Krähe. How feisty. Most people are afraid of me."

"Professor Ashworth isn't like most people."

"How peculiar indeed. I love interesting humans." The princess turned away. "Enjoy the ball, Professor Ashworth. I'm sure we'll meet again…As for you-"

Velena flinched as the woman put her hand on Krähe’s shoulder beside her. The vampire princess leaned in close to the General.

“We have to talk later, my dear Krähe.” It was almost a whisper, but Velena heard everything.

The crowd parted for her as she walked, the vampires near the back bowing their heads as she passed.

The temperature rose. The Key Tones around her flickered back to life. Velena stood frozen on the dance floor, her heart pounding, the cane humming in her hand.

"Professor Ashworth," Krähe said quietly. "Are you–"

"That's three favors now."

"What?"

"You lied about the dancing. That's a separate offense. You now owe me three favors. The combat class, the dance, and the lie." She turned her head toward him. Krähe could not determine her mood under her blindfold. "I'm keeping a tally."

"You're unbelievable." He sighed, a nine out of ten.

"My words are absolute." Velena’s reply was shakier than she wanted it to be.

The vampire princess was here, the woman whomst she assumed might have turned Orev into Krähe. There was too much evidence for her not to back out from that theory now. It was finalized in her head.

That vampire princess knew Krähe on a deeper level than she did, and there was something between them that Velena couldn't read.

"General Krähe!" A new voice shouted out. It came from one of the university staff. "Sir, there's a situation! The wards near the east sublevel are fluctuating! Someone is trying to-"

A sound tore through the hall.

It wasn't a voice. It wasn't music.

It was a note. A single, deafening tone that rose from somewhere deep beneath the university and split the air like a blade. The noise was so loud and piercing that Velena felt it in her teeth before she heard it in her ears. Every Key Tone in the room shrieked in answer as every conduit vibrated in response. The crystal chandeliers swayed violently, their candles sputtering out in showers of sparks.

Velena clapped her hands over her ears. Around her, everyone did the same. Dragonkin elders with their claws pressed against the sides of their heads. Elves with their sensitive ears folded flat. Beast-kin howling in pain. Vampires stumbling back, their composure cracked for the first time all evening.

The note held for three full seconds–

and then the ground shook.

It was a convulsion, a violent heave that threw people off their feet and sent cracks spiderwebbing across the polished marble floor. The long tables along the walls toppled. Glass shattered. The banners tore from the ceiling and drifted down like wounded birds. The Vault was screaming. Louder than Velena had ever heard it or she'd thought possible.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the sound stopped.

Velena lowered her hands from her ears. Her head was ringing. The cane on the side of her hilt was vibrating so hard she could barely hold it. Around her, the ballroom was in chaos. People were shouting, some were crying, a few were already running for the exits.

"What…" she said, her voice hoarse, "was that?!"

Krähe's hand found her arm as he steadied her. "Someone just tried to force the Vault open! We need to stop them now!"