By the time Abreigelle approached the front of the mansion, the moons had risen, bringing with them a host of brilliant stars. She strode down the driveway, passing underneath the impossibly long trellis framework on which millions of clematis flowers hung. Little oil lamps provided some light inside the tunnel, but not nearly as much as the fireflies which bobbed in midair, swirling around her as she walked. A light wind blew.

This was the kind of night that lived in dreams. With so much excitement pumping through her veins, Abreigelle had to restrain herself from shaking visibly, or sprinting the rest of the way. For some reason, she had been born with an electric energy—as her mother had called it—an energy she sometimes struggled to keep at bay. Many nights, she had lay awake in bed, her mind racing, not wanting to sleep. What was sleep compared to the vibrancy of wakefulness, of evenings like this?

When she emerged from the flowery passageway, Abreigelle found herself at the foot of the driveway, where a long train of horse-drawn carriages was parked. There were people all around, and everyone was hustling about, trying to finish whatever business that had to finish before setting off for the capital city of Blair Sheen. Most of the servants, Abreigelle noticed, were clustered around Lord Varner's family, making any last adjustments to Neureans' fine clothing.

Lord Varner himself was chatting his firstborn son, Candon, and his mouth curled in an ugly frown. The lord of the Varner household was broad-shouldered, and had the typical features any of his race possessed—skin tones washed out of any color and beady black eyes. The last remaining wisps of his silver hair poked out underneath the the tall cylindrical cap that he wore, a traditional Shah Neurean piece adorned with feathers. Abreigelle cringed, hating him for what he had done to her own family, to her own father. If not for Lord Varner, her father would still be here today, and if only he could be here tonight of all nights...

Abreigelle had learned quickly that missing her father wouldn't solve anything, and wouldn't bring him back. Deep inside her heart, the faintest glimmer of hope dwelt, telling her that he was alive somewhere out in the world, wanting to come home to see his family. Maybe he couldn't come home. Maybe there was something left he had to do. It didn't matter if everyone had accepted his death, and moved on. Abreigelle had accepted his survival, and moved on. But, her thoughts would sometimes drift, and she would see his face and the lovely half-smile that he had always worn, strangely so much like Lenore's, only more knowing.

A warm fog settled over Abreigelle's heart, numbing it, and she blinked. Lord Varner and Candon had disappeared into the grandest carriage at the front of the train along with their own personal Swordfellow guards, leaving behind a crowd of idle human servants. Among them, Abreigelle spotted her older sister.

"Lenore!" Abreigelle called, clutching her dress so she wouldn't trip on it as she ran.

Lenore turned, and then did a double-take as she noticed the crown of little white flowers on Abreigelle's head.

She opened her mouth as if to protest, but instead smiled. "Are you ready for this? You sure you still want to go?"

"It's not like I have a choice," Abreigelle said. She was, after all, supposed to do whatever Beshna asked her to. "but I really do want this. I'm excited to go, and, of course, I do enjoy wearing something other than my usual green skirt."

Grinning, Lenore leaned over and kissed Abreigelle's forehead. "Good luck." she murmured, "Don't do anything reckless or stupid."

"Of course," Abreigelle sighed, pulling away from her sister. "and... don't mess up my half of the room while I'm gone."

That made her giggle, "You half of the room is already a mess."

"It's personalized. So, don't tidy it up, or else I won't know where you've placed my belongings. I have little as it is..."

"Fine. I won't touch anything." Lenore crossed her arms, her attention diverted to something behind Abreigelle. She raised her eyebrows, sparing her sister a quick glance. "Look who has just arrived."

Abreigelle spun...and there was Lady Beshna, the girl which she had served personally for almost her whole life. Tonight, the daughter of Lord Varner wore a blood-red gown and lacy corset, which blended seamlessly into a black silk top. It looked...richer...than Abreigelle's, and definitely more gaudy. Beshna herself seemed stiff as a board, as if she couldn't move in the thing, and her midnight eyes were wide in shock.

That was strangely not surprising. The poor girl was probably scared out of her wits. "Are you okay, my Lady?"

Beshna gave a quick nod. She was definitely not okay, but what was there to do about it? This was really her first time being out at a public event of this scale. Every important person in Shah Neurn would be there, and it was Beshna's job—even more so than Abreigelle's—to not screw it up. She had no choice whether or not she wanted to go because her father had commanded it. Everything came back to Lord Varner, as it always did.

Not knowing what else to do, Abreigelle walked up to her mistress and gave her a hug. For some reason, hugs always seemed to make things better. "Don't worry, my Lady. I won't allow anything embarrassing or awful to happen to you."

Beshna's breathing became deeper, less sharp. "Of...of course." she said, relaxing. "But I—" She froze, backing away. "I—I forgot something."

"What did you forget?"

"No questions...just meet me in the carriage. It's the third one from the front." Beshna's eyes darted from side to side, and she spun, scurrying away back towards the manse.

Confused, Abreigelle turned to her sister, who was still standing nearby. Lenore shrugged and shook her head, her tight blonde curls bobbing loosely around her face. Clearly, she was just as perplexed.

"The Lady is acting strange again."

Lenore patted Abreigelle on the back. "Good luck dealing with that."