The champagne fizzed in the flute as Laurel held it up to examine the straw-gold color. She took a sip and held it in her mouth for a moment before swallowing. The sensation of all the bubbles was still not her favorite, but it was passable for now. She dearly missed some of the vintages her sect had once used as a profitable export. The rocky soil of her former home was perfect for growing grapes, and mortal wines just never packed the same punch as ones made by a cultivator. Maybe when things calmed down they could buy a new vineyard. Natalia liked farming; Laurel could probably convince her to handle it.

  Ending her break, she took another sip of champagne as she moved back out into the ballroom. It was sumptuously decorated with garlands of flowers draped in every corner. Tasteful too, which was far from a given for these circles. The furnishings were understated but of the best quality, the guests, of course, the same. Laurel snorted softly behind the wine. Half of these people had been out for her blood when she first established the sect, and now she needed to be ‘charming but not obsequious, elegant but not lavish, refined but not standoffish’ and a hundred other little instructions from Annette. Martin would have been the better choice. He disdained the kind of political maneuvering necessary, but the bastard was likable enough that it didn’t matter. He could talk the scales off a dragon if he felt like it, while barely trying.

  Laurel was trying, but words had never been her weapons of choice.

  A couple walked towards her, looking vaguely familiar. The man was older, with gray hair shading his temples, but with a physique that said he intended to be dangerous for years yet. The woman on his arm was in a dress fitted to the waist and then flaring slightly to the floor, all in maroon silk. Matching jewels decked her neck and earrings, with a wide smile splitting her face. She bounced as they performed the necessary dance, coming just close enough to indicate an interest in conversation, but being far enough away that Laurel could ignore them and pretend it wasn’t on purpose. Since that was counter to her purposes tonight, she closed the last few meters, giving them a nod at the correct distance. The floor of Annette’s favorite classroom at the sect was covered in a constellation of chalk lines, each marked to correspond to one of the ten thousand etiquette rules of Meristan high society.

  “Sectmaster. Or do you prefer Madam Stormblade?” The woman asked before anyone could get a word out.

  “Either is fine, thank you.”

  “I am Clarissa Sarsenne, and my husband Lord Sarsenne.”

  “Oh, any relation to Cooper?” Laurel asked, but she already knew the answer. If she squinted she could see the quiet boy’s face echoed in both individuals before her.

  “Yes, you’ve been working with our youngest. We heard you would be here today and just couldn’t resist an introduction, you haven’t been attending too many of our little soirees.”

  “I’m flattered. Attending to the sect has kept me from formal society, but now that we’re at such a great position to help people I figured it was time. Cooper mentioned visiting you the other day, I hope he was able to do so.”

  “Yes he did, and brought his friends with him as well. Polite, quiet boys.”

  “I’m pleased to hear that.”

  “For the last few years at University, during the summer holidays Cooper would join us in the manor, we’ve missed him this year.”

  If this woman was angling for something from Laurel it wasn’t obvious. But this had been part of the etiquette instructions as well. Laurel was here to see and be seen, not actually accomplish anything. Small talk was not the first step but the whole point.

  “Your son works hard, you should be very proud. I’m sure if you want to visit he could give you a private tour of the sect house.”

  “Yes of course, that would be lovely! We are so proud of all our children, no matter what path they take. We’ll send a note to coordinate a visit. Have a lovely evening!”

  The couple stepped back into the slow, careful waltz of the social hour, Laurel doing the same in a different direction. A half dozen interactions played out in the same manner. First an introduction, a small conversation about the weather, or the streets, or the last such social event, and then a promise to have an actual conversation later, out of the public eye. By the end of it, Laurel had gone through another glass and a half of wine, and committed to two private luncheons, a tea tasting, and a tour of an indoor bamboo garden. A few of the receptions were chillier, not offering or accepting a future engagement. Laurel made sure to memorize the names and faces of each offender. These would be the nobles most resistant to any of her plans.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  The monotony was broken by a commotion at the door. In walked the king.

  Laurel was conflicted and stayed far back from the nobles and other wealthy guests that rushed to greet the man. She liked Edward, thought he was a decent and fair ruler. She even believed him when he said his hands were tied. All that still stood between her and her goals. There were a lot of awful aspects of sect rule in her time, plenty of Cities where the mortal population was treated no better than cattle. But not having to dither around with false posturing was a benefit she hadn’t realized existed until she moved here.

  The king’s support had helped, maintaining the slow trickle of official Citizens, but it was nowhere near enough.

  Whether politics, or the guild system, or simply not realizing just how vital magical infrastructure was going to become, her appearances at the Council meetings were more and more becoming a source of tension. She watched the strange dance reshape itself to include the monarch and decided it was time to quietly depart.

  *********

  On the balcony seating of a tea shop, carved into the cliffs themselves, Laurel sat across from Theresa. Each chair at the exclusive location was angled to enjoy the view. The tea blend they had been served was full of smoked vanilla, and the pastries complemented it perfectly. She would have something to one-up Martin with when he returned.

  “How did anchoring the treasures go?” Laurel asked, selecting another of the treats.

  “One of the treasures was wasted, the anchor didn’t hold and it shriveled up, but not before destroying the building it was supposed to be in. Luckily no one was hurt since we’d cleared the area. One of the water ones is doing something different than I intended. I honestly haven’t figured out what the effect is yet. The rest were okay, but I’m hesitant to do the defensive array. It’s not as complicated as the one here, but Lanport is more vulnerable in some ways. And I don’t want to mess it up and waste a king’s ransom’s worth of supplies.”

  “I can’t leave Verilia for long enough to help right now. Up to you and the council if you want to go for it or wait until Martin gets back. Either of us could help. Or Devon.”

  “I thought you didn’t trust Devon all that much.”

  “What? No, I like Devon. I just also like messing with Devon. But I have been meaning to talk to you about him. Have you and the council decided where to put his sect?”

  “Not as of yet. We’re considering a few of the cities that we’ve only partially stabilized.”

  They paused to eke another cup each out of the dregs of the teapot.

  “He’s capable enough that any of them would be trivial. But you should also consider Lanport.” Seeing Theresa was about to interrupt her, Laurel barreled on. “Forgive me but I took a quick scan of your channels when you got here. The strain is building up.”

  Theresa waved her off. “No, you’re right. I just hate the thought of moving again, especially the kids. And Lanport is big enough that Ridge can be stationed there as well. If I move then he’ll have to split his time between one of the major forts and wherever I end up.”

  “Something to think about then, we’ve got some time before they get back. If the strain gets to be too much, Sabrina or one of the others could probably take it on for a while.” Laurel decided to leave it there. If she pushed any further she wouldn’t get anywhere, and despite the political situation, Theresa was a friend.

  “How about some good news instead?” Theresa said.

  “Yes. Please. I could use some.”

  “Things are going that poorly with convincing people to become citizens?” The concern in Theresa's voice was welcome, but there was little that could be done.

  “It could be a lot better. More of a drip than the necessary flood, and that’s on top of everything else. But tell me about your news.”

  “I expect you’ll hear this at the next Council meeting you’re invited to attend, but there’s no harm in spoiling things early. We’ve heard back from both of the cultivators you pointed us towards. Jade Treeborn and Oro’vorostial. It’s early days, but they seem open to the trade agreements, and are working to grow more of their own local magic users.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “Yes. Dragons! And a woman that used to be a tree! To think such things exist, my children will grow up with a reality that would have been a fairy tale when I was young.”

  “I’m glad someone at least appreciates the wonder. If you believe the Verilian Express, all of society is going to collapse because of a little glowing dome.”

  Theresa snorted in a notably unladylike manner. “No one who knows anything believes the Verilian Express.”

  “We’ll see. But it's hard to drum up public support for anything when I know they’ll be right there talking about how it's an attempted Laskarian coup.”

  Theresa grimaced. “Yes, that is a bit delicate.” Then she grinned. “Better you than me.”

  Conversation lapsed as they returned to the astonishing view. The summer sea glittered off to the horizon, sprinkled with the sails and steam stacks of pleasure yachts and cargo vessels. They were high enough that the bustle of the port was a low backdrop, and if Laurel leaned out over the edge she could see Fort Sarken standing watch. Two years. A little more than that now, since she watched this same view from the other side of the ocean. By now things were supposed to be back to normal. Instead she was running a sect, managing through public opinion, founding a small but focused trading empire, and forging international alliances. Or at least helping the people doing all those things. It was nothing like the old masters envisioned for the sect, and exactly what they would have chosen at the same time.

  Laurel stood. “Come on, we’re leaving.”

  Theresa was startled but gathered her belongings. “Why? This is the place to be seen, isn’t that why we came in the first place?”

  “Yes, and we were seen. That,” she said, pointing to a gray dot far out to sea, “is a slate drake. Common magic creatures that like to live near rocky outcroppings. We’re going to catch one.”

  “Why? Are they valuable?”

  “No. But they are adorable and if I don’t do something fun I can feel I’m going to start waxing poetically about the changing tides of fate.

  “Theresa.” Laurel spun in the aisle and looked directly into the other woman’s eyes. “I’m not ready to be the old lady spouting mysticism.”

  With that she set off, Theresa gamely following. Time to find Flint a new friend.