"A midnight dinner with three noble families and their complete entourages," Maximilian muttered, adjusting his formal attire in front of the mirror as the clock struck eleven. "Whose terrible idea was this?"

  "Yours, darling," Elias reminded him, smoothly sliding a silver cufflink into pce on his consort's sleeve. "Something about 'necessary territorial alliances' and 'Archduke Lucius's diplomatic recommendations.'"

  Maximilian winced. "That does sound like me. Though I doubt I used the word 'darling' in the official correspondence."

  "That was my artistic interpretation," Elias admitted with a grin. His formal attire was impeccable—deep blue fabric that seemed to shimmer slightly in the dim light, a subtle illusion that drew attention without being obvious enough to identify as supernatural.

  The past week's interrogations had yielded nothing but embarrassing personal secrets and one completely destroyed truth detection device. Despite their best efforts, they'd found no evidence of Orlov's spies within their household staff. Tonight's dinner brought a new complication—hosting noble families meant welcoming dozens of unfamiliar servants into their home.

  "I've instructed Morris to assign our own staff to shadow each visiting servant," Maximilian said, straightening his jacket for the third time. "Though I doubt Viscount Gabriel or Count Sebastian would knowingly harbor Orlov agents."

  "It's rarely the knowing part that's the problem," Elias murmured, a strange tension in his voice.

  Maximilian turned, recognizing the distant look in his consort's eyes. "Elias? What is it?"

  Elias blinked, focusing back on the present moment. "Nothing. Just... an odd feeling."

  "A prophetic dream?" Maximilian asked, instantly alert. Elias's rare ability had proven remarkably accurate in the past.

  "No. Not exactly." Elias frowned slightly. "Just a sense of... wrong notes in a familiar song. It's probably nothing."

  But Maximilian knew better than to dismiss his consort's intuition. "I'll have security on heightened alert. Perhaps bring the secondary systems online, just to be safe."

  Elias nodded, though his expression remained troubled. "The blue waistcoat," he said suddenly, pointing to Maximilian's formal wear id out on the bed. "Wear that one instead of the bck."

  "Because it complements your outfit better?" Maximilian asked, already reaching for it.

  "Because it's more stain-resistant," Elias replied cryptically.

  The grand dining hall gleamed with candlelight, creating a traditional ambiance while cleverly concealing the modern lighting systems Maximilian had preserved. Crystal goblets filled with blood-wine caught the light, casting red reflections across the white tablecloth. By midnight, the room was filled with vampire nobility and their attending servants, the hum of conversation rising and falling like waves.

  "Viscount Gabriel," Maximilian greeted, inclining his head the precise number of degrees required by protocol—a fact he had memorized from one of his many etiquette books. "I trust your journey was pleasant?"

  The Viscount, a tall, ascetic-looking vampire in modified clerical garb, returned the formal greeting. "Indeed, Duke Maximilian. Though I confess these te-night diplomatic gatherings are not my preferred form of communion."

  "I believe that makes two of us," Maximilian replied, earning a small smile from the normally reserved vampire.

  Elias moved smoothly through the gathering, his natural charm complementing Maximilian's more reserved demeanor. Where the Duke was precise and occasionally awkward, his consort was graceful and engaging. Together, they created an unexpected but effective hosting partnership.

  Yet throughout the first hour, Elias's gaze kept drifting to the servants who moved efficiently around the room. Something about their choreographed motions seemed off to him, though he couldn't isote the cause of his unease.

  "You've created quite the collection since my st visit," Count Sebastian commented to Maximilian, gesturing toward the dispy cases lining the walls. Ancient books and artifacts were arranged in a careful exhibition, representing just a fraction of the Duke's vast archives.

  "Merely a sampling," Maximilian replied, his schorly enthusiasm momentarily overcoming his social reticence. "I've recently acquired a complete set of pre-evolution technical manuals that—"

  He broke off as Elias appeared suddenly at his side, smoothly inserting himself into the conversation. "Forgive the interruption, Count Sebastian, but I believe the first course is ready to be served. Shall we proceed to the table?"

  Maximilian recognized the subtle pressure of Elias's hand against his lower back—their private signal for caution. As they guided their guests toward the long dining table, Elias whispered, "The servant in gray—the one who came with Baroness Lydia's household. Watch him."

  Maximilian casually gnced toward a thin man efficiently arranging silverware at the far end of the table. Nothing about him seemed immediately suspicious, yet Elias's warning set his nerves on edge.

  "What did you notice?" he murmured as they took their seats at the head of the table.

  "He's too perfect," Elias replied, his smile never faltering as he nodded to a noblewoman across the table. "No wasted movements. Military precision disguised as servile efficiency."

  Now that Elias mentioned it, Maximilian could see the difference. Where the other servants occasionally hesitated or made small adjustments to their work, this one moved with machine-like precision.

  "Perhaps I should activate the—" Maximilian began.

  "Not yet," Elias cautioned. "We need to be certain. And we can't create a diplomatic incident if we're wrong."

  The first course was served with fwless coordination—goblets of rare blood-wine for the nobles, each vintage carefully selected to complement the status of the recipient. For Elias, a special pte accommodating his unusual need for actual food was pced discreetly alongside his blood goblet, a reminder of his unique condition that had once made him an outcast in Orlov's court.

  Conversation flowed around the table, focusing on territorial matters, recent vampire social events, and carefully phrased political opinions. Maximilian managed to avoid any major social blunders, though he did catch himself starting to expin the historical origin of the crystal goblets before Elias smoothly redirected the conversation.

  As the main course was being prepared for serving, Elias suddenly stiffened beside him. A brief, intense look crossed his face—the unmistakable expression of a prophetic fsh. He recovered quickly, but his hand found Maximilian's beneath the table, squeezing once—their urgent warning signal.

  "He's positioned himself behind Baroness Lydia," Elias said, his voice barely audible. "Left hand tucked into his waistband. Silver bde, I believe."

  Maximilian didn't question how Elias knew. "The defensive system controls are in my pocket," he whispered back. "But they're not exactly... subtle."

  "We need a distraction first. On my signal." Elias smiled brilliantly across the table. "Countess Veronique, I simply must hear more about your recent trip to the Southern Territories. Is it true that Archduke Orlov has installed actual gold fixtures in his guest bathrooms?"

  As the Countess unched into a detailed description of Orlov's excessive decorating choices, Elias casually raised his goblet in a seemingly appreciative gesture. The movement caught the light strangely—one of his subtle illusions, Maximilian realized.

  Across the room, the suspicious servant was indeed positioned behind Baroness Lydia, his left hand no longer visible. As Elias's illusion rippled through the air, several guests blinked and looked momentarily confused.

  "Now," Elias whispered.

  Maximilian reached into his pocket and pressed the small device he'd been carrying all evening. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a sudden mechanical whir, panels in the ceiling slid open, and a dozen small metal objects descended on thin cables.

  The assembled nobility gasped as the devices—spherical, about the size of apples, with blinking lights—dropped to hover approximately seven feet above the table. Before anyone could react, the devices emitted a soft blue pulse that swept across the room.

  The suspicious servant convulsed as the energy wave passed over him, a silver dagger cttering from his hand onto the floor beside Baroness Lydia's chair. He reached inside his jacket, but another pulse from the hovering devices froze him in pce.

  "What in the blood moon?" Count Sebastian excimed, half-rising from his chair.

  Maximilian cleared his throat, frantically searching for an expnation that wouldn't reveal the true purpose of his preserved technology. "Ah, yes. The, um, the entertainment has begun somewhat earlier than pnned. My apologies for the dramatic timing."

  Elias seamlessly picked up the thread. "The Duke has prepared a rather spectacur demonstration of pre-evolution technology, restored specifically for tonight's gathering." He gestured toward the servant now frozen in pce. "Including this remarkably realistic simution of an assassination attempt."

  The guests looked uncertainly between the immobilized servant and their host.

  "Perhaps a bit too realistic," Baroness Lydia commented, eyeing the silver dagger near her chair.

  "Authenticity is a cornerstone of historical preservation," Maximilian offered weakly.

  Meanwhile, his own security staff moved smoothly to surround the immobilized assassin. Morris appeared at Maximilian's side, bending to whisper, "Your Grace, we've secured the intruder. He carries no identification, but the silver dagger bears an engraving used by Orlov's elite guards."

  Elias, overhearing, gave a nearly imperceptible head shake. Creating a direct accusation against Orlov would turn a security incident into a political crisis.

  Maximilian understood immediately. "Please escort our... performer... to the secure holding area. We can continue the evening's actual entertainment without further interruptions."

  As the assassin was discretely removed, Elias stood and raised his gss. "A toast to our gracious host, Duke Maximilian, whose passion for pre-evolution technology has provided such an unexpected thrill this evening."

  The nobles, still confused but willing to accept the strange dispy as eccentric entertainment, raised their gsses. Crisis temporarily averted, Maximilian exhaled slowly.

  "And now," Elias continued smoothly, "I believe the actual pnned entertainment involves a much less arming musical performance. Perhaps we could proceed to the music room after we finish our excellent meal?"

  As the dinner resumed with nervous chatter about the "performance," Maximilian leaned closer to his consort. "How did you know?" he whispered.

  "Just before he moved, I saw it happen," Elias admitted. "Like watching a scene py out twice—once in my mind, then again in reality. It's never been that clear before."

  "And the blue waistcoat?" Maximilian asked, suddenly remembering Elias's earlier comment.

  "In my vision, you were wearing the bck one," Elias replied with a small smile. "It was ruined when you spilled your blood-wine in shock. The blue one survived unscathed."

  Maximilian gnced down at his perfectly clean blue waistcoat, then back at Elias with newfound respect. "Remind me to listen to your fashion advice more often."

  "I have been telling you that those reading gsses are unnecessarily—"

  "Let's not get carried away," Maximilian interrupted, adjusting said gsses. "One wardrobe victory doesn't give you authority over my entire aesthetic."

  Elias ughed softly, the tension of the moment finally breaking. "Perhaps I should predict something truly outrageous to wear next. I wonder how you'd look in neon pink..."

  "I think the defensive system may have affected your brain," Maximilian muttered, though a smile tugged at his lips.

  The rest of the evening proceeded without further incident. The would-be assassin was secured in Maximilian's specially designed holding facilities, the guests were escorted to hear a string quartet perform in the music room, and the hovering defense devices were expined away as "historical curiosities" that Maximilian had restored for educational purposes.

  As the st guests departed in the early morning hours, Maximilian and Elias stood together in the entrance hall, watching the procession of luxury cars pulling away.

  "That," Maximilian said with feeling, "is why I avoid social gatherings."

  "Because assassins always target your dinner parties?" Elias asked dryly.

  "Because I inevitably end up activating experimental technology and then having to pretend it's performance art," Maximilian corrected him. "Though I suppose the assassination attempt didn't help."

  Elias leaned slightly against Maximilian's shoulder—a gesture of affection that would have scandalized traditional vampire society but had become natural between them. "At least now we have confirmation that Orlov is actively moving against us, not just sending threatening messages."

  "And we have a prisoner who might provide valuable information," Maximilian added. "Though I'm not particurly skilled at interrogation."

  "Fortunately," Elias said with a mysterious smile, "I have some experience in that area. And my illusions can be quite... persuasive."

  Maximilian looked at his consort with a mixture of admiration and concern. "Sometimes I forget that underneath all that charm is someone quite formidable."

  "Good," Elias replied, his smile softening. "It's always useful to be underestimated. Even by one's husband."

  As the first hints of dawn appeared on the horizon, they made their way back inside the estate. The day staff was already beginning to arrive as the night workers completed their final tasks.

  "I need to deactivate the defense system properly before we rest," Maximilian said, stifling a yawn. "Some of those devices have been known to develop peculiar behaviors if left active too long."

  "Define 'peculiar,'" Elias asked warily.

  "One of them once decided that my favorite armchair was a security threat and suspended it from the ceiling," Maximilian admitted. "It took three days to convince it otherwise."

  Elias stared at him for a moment before bursting into ughter. "Only you would create a defense system with the personality of a suspicious cat."

  "I didn't create it that way," Maximilian protested as they walked toward his control room. "It developed those characteristics over time. The adaptive learning algorithms were quite advanced for pre-evolution technology."

  "Well, let's make sure it doesn't decide any of our guests need to be suspended from the ceiling," Elias suggested. "Especially since they'll be returning for breakfast tomorrow evening."

  Maximilian stopped mid-stride. "They're coming back? Why would they do that?"

  "Because you invited them to a two-day diplomatic gathering," Elias reminded him, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Don't worry. I'm sure tomorrow night will be completely assassin-free."

  "You can't possibly know that," Maximilian grumbled.

  Elias tapped his temple with one finger. "Prophetic abilities, remember?"

  "Have you actually foreseen a peaceful dinner tomorrow?"

  "No," Elias admitted cheerfully. "But I have foreseen you wearing the purple waistcoat, which is a far greater threat to diplomatic retions than any assassin."

  As they continued down the corridor, bickering about fashion choices and security protocols in equal measure, the first rays of sunlight were carefully blocked by the estate's special shielding systems. Tomorrow night would bring new challenges, but for now, they had successfully navigated an assassination attempt, preserved their political alliances, and managed to get through a formal dinner with minimal social disasters.

  By vampire aristocratic standards, it was practically a perfect evening.