Dusk had painted the horizon in a spectacle of colour, and as the sun was nearing the end of its descent the first guests arrived. Ellanor had hoped to catch the Duke before the ball began, but by the time word of his return reached her it was too late – Yvet had already sent Clados to fetch her.

The gift sent by the Duchess was indeed a dress. It was a lovely thing, so clearly made with the Skyward colours in mind. White fabric made up most of the dress, with the bottom of the skirt fading to a deep blue, almost black. The sleeves were bell-shaped and flowy, edged with details of blue lace. From its back two lengths of white fabric formed a short train – a common style for upper-class avvir who lost their wings. Ellanor had marveled at the exquisite craftsmanship that had gone into the making of the dress, the precision of the seams seeming almost impossible. The fabric alone must have cost a fortune.

The coffer also contained clothes for Jane. Ellanor had recognised the uniform as the one all the guards at Redstone wore, just in a finer form: a red jacket paired with white trousers, both with details in silver, and black polished boots. The only difference had been the emblem on its chest, switched out in favour of that of Skyward manor.

Jane had scowled disapprovingly at the sight. "She is mocking us, for sure."

Ellanor had studied the black and blue Skyward shield. "Perhaps. She might just want you to fit in better. We did not bring your dress uniform after all." Jane had muttered something under her breath as she left out the door, that Ellanor chose to ignore. Instead, she had unfurled the dress and handed it over to Tara.

"Her taste in dresses has certainly improved," Ellanor had said as her handmaid had brought the dress into the bedroom and hung it among the others on the room divider.

Tara had stepped back to study the gift from afar, before giving an approving nod. "Reluctantly, I must give the Duchess some credit. It's perfect."

Ellanor now wore the dress as she stood at the foot of the royal stairs in the great ballroom, where Yvet had left her thirty minutes earlier. In that time an abundance of guests had arrived, descended the steps, and greeted her with condolences and words of good fortune. Some faces were familiar – neighbours to Skyward, Lourelle's friends from her various clubs and activities, as well as a few distant relatives Ellanor had only ever seen in old photographs and portraits. But most of the assembled crowd were unfamiliar to her, although she did not mind.

As the last guest finally deigned to show up, Yvet announced herself from the top of the stairs.

"Welcome, everyone!" The Duchess' voice carried out over the guests, their attention turning to her. "We are here tonight to remember and celebrate the life of our Madam Lourelle Skyward. She was a dear friend to most of us, a valued member of the Avvyrian nobility, but most of all she carried the role of mother to the new Madam Ellanor Skyward." She gestured down to Ellanor with a smile on her face, the sudden attention making Ellanor's face heat up. Luckily, the Duchess quickly continued.

"There is food and drink on the dais behind you – feel free to serve yourselves. A pleasant evening to you all!"

Applause broke out and conversation started up again as people began moving toward the back of the room. Tables for both standing and sitting, as well as groups of couches and chairs were littered along the walls of the room, inviting people to eat and mingle and rest between dances. A few more people that had missed Ellanor upon arriving came up to her after Yvet's announcement to give their regards. She was just about to retreat to a less exposed spot when a shout came her way.

"Ella!" the familiar voice boomed, causing a few nearby heads to turn. Ellanor's eyes darted around to find the source of the call, eventually catching the wave of the person's arm. Her heart skipped a beat and she could not stop the yelp of excitement from escaping her lips.

"Amber!" she said, embracing the man with more enthusiasm than would be proper for the setting. Ambrose laughed in her ear, returning her hug. They pulled apart as a cat-eared woman appeared at Ambrose's side, a broad smile on her thin lips. A hand rested on her very pregnant belly.

"Hello, Ellanor," she said, pulling Ellanor into a sideways embrace. "We missed you when we got here – could barely see you among all these people!"

Ellanor took a step back and marveled at the feline woman. "Kirsty! Wha– when– and you are–!" She struggled to find the words, simply settling for gesturing wildly toward the baby bump.

Kirsty laughed, fur-covered tail swatting behind her. "I am!" she said. "I am due in three months." Something solemn came over her then. She grabbed Ellanor's hands. "I am so sorry for Lourelle, Ella. And that we could not come sooner."

Ellanor waved her off. "I did not expect you to." She turned to Ambrose. "You traveled her all the way from Casanve?"

The avvir man smiled sadly, grey wings shifting behind him. "Of course – you are my best friend," he said. "Well, oldest friend," he changed, his smile turning teasing. "You are way too terrible at answering my letters to be called 'the best'."

"Oh, sush," Ellanor said, slapping him lightly on the arm. He rubbed at the spot, pretending to look hurt. Rolling her eyes Ellanor turned back to Kirsty. "How is Casanve? Do you still live with your parents in Breshahar?"

"It's still the same as last time you visited," Kirsty said, as Ambrose muttered it's warm. The women promptly ignored him. "And no – we got our own house now, a few hours outside the capital. You must come visit us soon, Ella!"

"You will love it," Ambrose said, tail wagging like a dog's. "It's an old farm – with land and all!"

Ellanor could not help but smile at her childhood friend. Last time she saw him he had just moved to Breshahar after marrying Kirsty. Before that he had been one of Mr. Waugh's apprentices, helping around the gardens and terrorising Ellanor whenever he got the chance. Being only a few years older than Ellanor, they had attended the same school as kids and eventually became friends – heavily due to Lourelle and Mr. Waugh forcing them to work together in the gardens. It had been a pain in the beginning, Ellanor remembered, but now they were some of the best memories she had of her childhood.

"I cannot believe you are both here," Ellanor said, shaking her head. "I do not remember inviting you?"

"Ow," Ambrose said with a pout.

Kirsty waved him off with a clawed hand. "Duke Dalton did." When Ellanor frowned she explained further, "We received a letter from him with an invitation to the ball, as well as the offer to travel with him from Station. It was very last minute – but we could not turn down an opportunity to visit you."

Ellanor's heart ached and she threw an eye around the room to see if she could spot Dalton among the crowd. When she could not she looked back to Kirsty and Ambrose. "Thank you," she said, unable to stop the tears from lining her eyes. "I really appreciate you being here."

Picking up Ellanor's hand again, Kirsty offered her a handkerchief. "We will stay for as long as you need us to. We have no plans for the foreseeable months." Ambrose gave a cough and a pointed stare at his wife's belly. She rolled her eyes in response. "Oh, alright, maybe some plans," she added and Ellanor laughed as she dried her tears.

Ambrose put a hand on Kirsty's shoulder. "Come on, love, let's get some food before it runs out."

"Oh, right! We should not keep you from the other guests, Ella," Kirsty said with one last squeeze of Ellanor's hand. Then the pair disappeared into the crowd, direction set for the tables of food.

Feeling suddenly exposed again – despite Jane's presence just a few paces away – Ellanor retreated from the center of the floor to one of the tall tables by the wall. An avvir servant quickly supplied her with a glass of sparkling wine which she accepted but did not drink from.

Had the gesture from Duke Dalton – inviting and bringing her friends to the ball – been out of his own affection, or was it an extra precaution to further protect her from the Duchess? And if the latter happened to be true, how much had Ambrose and Kirsty been told? Probably nothing, Ellanor thought, there is no reason for them to know, it would only endanger them as well. Still, she found the pit of her stomach filling with dread. If anything were to happen to her, if Yvet was to find out the whole truth, might she bring the couple down as well? Ellanor hoped to the Mother she would not.

Completely lost in her anxious thoughts, Ellanor did not notice as she was approached by none other than the avvir she had been contemplating. Yvet came to a stop before her, arm in arm with a cas woman. The woman's white cat ears twitched as she surveyed Ellanor, her equally white and fluffy tail elegantly curling around her legs. Ellanor had to force herself not to shrink away from that stare.

"Ellanor," the Duchess said, "allow me to introduce Mrs. Nore – the best seamstress Casanve has to offer." The feline woman reached out a hand which Ellanor took and curtseyed. "Mrs. Nore is the mastermind behind both our dresses," Yvet added.

Ellanor did not bother to hide her surprise as she straightened back up. "Oh, it is absolutely lovely, Mrs. Nore. I was speechless when I first saw it."

Mrs. Nore smiled a smile that was all teeth and sharp fangs. "I am glad to hear, Madam," she said. "Please, do spin around so I can have a proper look." Ellanor obeyed, glad to hide her face from the cas for a brief moment. "Ah, yes," Mrs. Nore exclaimed with a clap of her hands, "I must say, I have outdone myself with this one."

Yvet nodded and touched the sleeve of the dress with a claw-tipped hand. "I am inclined to agree, my friend. You must make something similar for me – something else than white, of course."

"Oh, absolutely."

Ellanor looked back and forth between the women, feeling somewhat left out of the conversation, but not entirely uncomfortable by this. She was just about to excuse herself when Yvet again turned to her.

"So what do you think of the ball? Have you gotten a chance to eat anything?"

Ellanor shook her head. "No, I ran into some old friends – I was not sure they would be able to come on such short notice."

"The avvir with the grey wings?" said Yvet, cocking her eyebrow. When Ellanor answered yes, the Duchess swirled the wine in her glass and clicked her tongue. "Ellanor, dear, you are part of the Avvyrian nobility now! Were before Lourelle's Flight, even. Associating with members of the lower class is, well – below you." She took a sip from her glass and Mrs. Nore nodded beside her.

Ellanor was not surprised by Yvet's statement, especially after spending fifteen days in her company. Still, a line had to be drawn when it was safe to do so. "I hear what you are saying, Yvet, but I must disagree. I am sure you would be surprised by what richness your life could gain if you looked beyond your narrow view." Behind her, Ellanor could feel Jane stiffening. Or possibly withholding a laugh.

The Duchess and her cas friend both stared at her, stunned into silence. Ellanor kept her head high, despite her instincts screaming at her to apologise and retreat.

A snort escaped Yvet, the avvir rolling her eyes. Mrs. Nore beside her sipped her wine, trying to hide her amusement. "Please, Ellanor," said the Duchess. "There is no doubt Lourelle was the one who raised you, that is for sure. Pity, I was hoping for more from you." She made a show out of looking Ellanor up and down. "But I suppose the apple does not fall far..."

Every nerve in Ellanor's body came alert as her blood froze in her veins. She tried her best to look casual, to laugh off the comment as if it was mere banter between friends. The Duchess, luckily, joined in as well, the air lifting ever so slightly around them. Yet Ellanor could not help but wonder whether Yvet had meant Lourelle or Dalton–

A cough sounded from beside their trio and all heads turned toward it. Ellanor felt both relieved and tense as Ambrose stepped up to them and stretched a bow. When he straightened his eyes fell on Yvet.

"If it is not an inconvenience, Duchess, I would like to steal the Madam Skyward from you," Ambrose said. He turned to Ellanor, hand stretched out. "Might I have this dance?"

Ellanor did not bother to look to Yvet – partly because she knew the woman would not approve; mostly because the decision was not the Duchess' to make – when she placed her hand in Ambrose's and let herself be guided to the middle of the room where people were lining up for the first dance of the evening. Finding an empty spot in one of the three circles of couples that had formed, Ambrose positioned them face to face, his back to the center of the circle, her left hand in his right.

"You looked like you needed saving," he said as the quintette began playing the first bars of an Avvyrian family waltz. "That, and Kirsty is not up for dancing as of now and you are the only other person I know."

"I figured as much," Ellanor mocked, earning a laugh from her friend. With the music, and the fellow pairs around them, they started the dance by taking two shifting steps in the direction of the dance, then turning their backs to each other and repeating the steps. After pivoting around in a spin and stepping into the waltz, Ellanor said, "thank you."

Ambrose smiled down at her. "It's nothing, Ella."

When breaking the waltz, the dance started over from the beginning, but the pairs broke up and continued on their own. The inner circle took their four steps backward, while the outer moved forward, earning everyone a new partner in time for the next waltz. Distracted for a little while, Ellanor allowed herself to enjoy the dance, greeting her new partners with a broad smile.

Eventually, Ambrose caught her again as the music came to an end, everyone returned to their original partners. Applause from the onlooking crowd filled the room.

"I do not remember you being this good, Amber," Ellanor teased with a grin. "Lourelle nearly gave up on teaching you."

He pinched her arm, and Ellanor had to stifle her yelp so as to not call attention to them. Opening her mouth she had a less kind remark on his dancing on the tip of her tongue, but the flash of a black and blue uniform caught her eye from across the room.

Ellanor watched as Lukas interrupted a conversation held between a man she did not recognise and Duke Dalton. The guard's face was set in stone, worry mixed with something like anger flickering in his eyes. He spoke quickly and short with the Duke before turning on his heel and heading back into the crowd. Dalton seemed to excuse himself from his company, setting his glass on a nearby table and heading after Lukas. Ellanor felt the urge to follow the two men, but the music started up again and she was swept up in another dance.

Whatever had happened, they would tell her.