Ami wasn’t looking forward to tonight. A week away from her wedding, with a groom she had yet to meet, her father was hosting a small gathering of nobles and military comrades. She had no desire to be there, but as the eldest and only engaged daughter she was expected to attend. 

    After her maids forced her into one of the dresses her father had made her receive, Ami begrudgingly arrived at the banquet hall downstairs. 

    Although called a small gathering, more people filled the ballroom than had attended her debut. Officers in military uniform stood in groups, sipping champagne. Some of the local nobles meandered around, trying to curry favor with the higher ranking among them. 

    Ami thought she could get away with hiding in a corner as usual, but a man in uniform she recognized from her coming of age ceremony stopped her swift retreat.

    “Good evening, Miss Rhineton.” The other men crowded around him echoed his greetings.

    “Good evening Lieutenant Kirk, sirs,” Ami replied. 

    “Congratulations on your upcoming wedding, Miss. Tom Everick, can you imagine he’ll be the son-in-law to the Commander?” This last sentence he directed to the other men. 

    An aged soldier deep in his cups grunted, “Deplorable, the turncoat. I wouldn’t trust him far as I can throw him.” He snorted. “I won’t soon forget what he did to our boys out on the Belland Campaign.‘Twas there when the bastard burned our supplies in the western plains.” He scowled, the lines on his face running as deep as his hatred. “Put us behind five months.”

“Do watch the language, Captain Tibolt,” a younger officer drawled. “We’re in a ballroom, not headquarters.” He tipped his glass to Ami. “Beg your pardon, Miss.”

Captain Tibolt. Ami knew the name. He was the man in charge of the supply convoy that was thoroughly humiliated by Everick’s guerrilla tactics. The man seethed in bitterness.

Ami twitched in annoyance. “Please, don’t stop on my account.” 

The officer who’d begged her pardon, a decade or so older than her, smirked before sipping from his drink, ice-blue eyes never leaving her. What a wolf. No manner of pretense can conceal his fangs. Ami was about to depart the unpleasant men when Tibolt spoke up again, satisfaction in his voice this time.

“The Belland dog is right where he should stay. Strung up on a leash in prison.” He grinned cruelly. “Can’t say I didn’t enjoy taking a stick to him.” He harrumphed. “Never could get him to cry out, though.”

Ami’s blood froze. Torture. They were talking about torturing the man right in front of her. 

Lieutenant Kirk sniffed. “Unsavory business, the whole of it. He’s as dirty and stubborn in captivity as he was on the battlefield.” He motioned to the younger soldier. “Took him nearly a year to give in and finally take his oaths to the Empire.”

The blue-eyed man answered Kirk, but watched Ami, “HIs stubbornness will work to our advantage against the Makani.”

Tibolt interjected, “Dogs against dogs. Let them go at each other’s throats. Take care of two mongrels. No point in dirtying our hands.” His jeers were met with arrogant here-here’s. “They’re a blight against the Emperor.” 

She glared at the men, all of whom were now ignoring her. This is the respect they have for me, a Rhineton lady and soon to be married. Her eyes narrowed. To brag about sending war prisoners to die in the name of their Empire! There was no honor among these gentlemen. 

“Indeed, no amount of interference will dirty your hands more than your character already has.” Ami snapped. “How honorable it is to let an enemy fight for your Emperor in your stead.” She sneered. “This is the famed Imperial Military’s dignity. Or perhaps,” she looked each scowling man in the eyes, “the noble army is insufficient to gain victory without the Belland dogs.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “What a thought. Foreign dogs more capable than the ferocious Imperial Lions.” 

Her insults were met with snorts and spats. “Miss Rhineton-“Kirk scoffed. But Ami had already turned on her heel and marched away.

    Leaving behind the frowning men, Ami was once again stopped in her tracks, but by a young lady this time. Surrounded by other noble women, these society ladies might be Giselle’s friends. She groaned inside but halted politely. They couldn’t be as devilish as those unseemly officers.

    “Miss Amoret, allow me to introduce myself,” the pretty girl who stopped her simpered.  “I’m Michelle Brighton, daughter of Henry Brighton.” Ami recognized the strawberry-blonde as the daughter of a prominent banking family. 

“These ladies are Miss Valorie Tipton, Miss Penelope Ashwood, Miss Jane Edleton, and Miss Celine Bennet.” A brunette, an ashy blonde or two, and a stunning scarlet-haired lady dipped their heads to her. The redhead looked her in the eye and smiled. 

“Let us congratulate you on your engagement, Miss Amoret,” Miss Michelle Brighton continued. The ladies cooed in agreement. “And to a soldier at that!” She looked around at the others, “Oh, forgive me, you may not know the lady’s fiancé. He’s a captain from the Belland war,” The ladies feigned ignorance, prompting Miss Brighton to continue. 

    “Maybe you’ve heard of him? A Captain Tom Everick.”

    “Oh!” The blonde who might have been Miss Ashwood gasped. “My father made such a fuss about the men from Belland. Says they have atrocious manners.”

    Miss Brighton gave Ami a sly glance. “Miss Ashwood’s father is an officer in Lord Rhineton’s division.” Ami responded with an insincere nod and smile. 

    “What on earth do you mean?” Miss Edleton inquired in a loud whisper. 

    Miss Ashwood preened at the attention. She leaned forward as the others joined in conspiracy-like. They were loving this. Only the scarlet-haired Miss Bennet smirked in amusement. 

    “They do such strange things, like walking around barefoot indoors!” Gasps were heard all around. Ami rolled her eyes. For heaven’s sake. Is that atrocious?

“I heard,” interrupted Miss Tipton, brown curls bouncing in trepidation, “that Belland people don’t use silverware, but eat only with their hands.” She grimaced at the very thought of it. 

    “Is it true,” Miss Edleton quivered, “the women wear skirts up to the knees?” Scandalized, all four ladies protested. Ami snorted.

    Miss Brighton’s sharp eyes flashed to Ami, then widened in mock horror. “But Miss Amoret, aren’t you appalled to be married to a foreigner with no understanding of the empire’s etiquette and social conventions?”

    All eyes turned back to her, expressions coated in sympathy. Delicious, condescending pity. Like vultures circling a corpse, waiting to strike. Ami was wrong. These ladies were much more wicked than the gentlemen.

Ami smiled serenely. “I would be much more appalled to be attached to someone with the best groomed manners in the empire but a rotten heart hidden beneath.”

Some of the girls were startled. Miss Brighton narrowed her eyes. Miss Bennet, who hadn’t said a word, chuckled behind her hand. Ami turned with a roll of her eyes. Again, she left with the last word.

    Ami felt no guilt leaving those foolish girls behind her. But her escape was interrupted this time by a commotion at the banquet doors. 

    It was beautiful Giselle on the arm of a handsome pale-haired man. Giselle was surely the envy of all the young ladies tonight in a rose-gold gown with her shining honey-blonde hair. The gentleman next to her was quite the partner dressed in a chocolate-brown coat and tails, hair slicked back into the latest style. The whispers of the guests soon reached her ears. 

    “Is Miss Giselle being escorted by Lawrence Elliot?”

    “My, they make a lovely pair, don’t they?”

    Ami recognized the name as a son of the influential chancellor. I see, Father. You already had plans for your beloved daughter. A match with the Elliots, who were a powerful political family, would be a great boon to Lord Rhineton.

    Giselle was more suitable for a nobleman than a war prisoner. So I took her place.

Ami would have avoided her sister if she could, but Giselle belatedly realized her older sister was directly in front of her. It would be incredibly rude to ignore her now in front of all the guests.

Giselle’s beaming smile disappeared immediately, but she covered it up with a bow. “Sister Amoret,”

“Good evening, Giselle,” Amoret bowed in return. 

Giselle, the perfect lady, turned to her escort. “Allow me to introduce you to my sister, Mr. Elliot. This is the eldest Rhineton daughter, my sister Amoret. Sister, this is my escort Mr. Lawrence Elliot.” The two exchanged greetings. 

Ugh. If it wasn’t obvious to others before, how could the favoritism not be known now? Ami, who out of nowhere was made the eldest daughter, is engaged to a former war enemy. Giselle is being escorted by the son of one of the most powerful men in the empire. 

Lawrence Elliot regarded Ami coolly. “Am I correct in offering my congratulations on your engagement?” His tone was polite, his eyes uncaring.

I guess it depends on what your congratulations mean, Ami thought sardonically. 

She gave him a halfhearted smile. “Thank you, Mr. Elliot.” He gave no reply, only stared coldly. They stood in awkward silence for a moment. He glanced at Giselle in an attempt to extricate themselves from the unpleasant interaction. Ami beat him to it.

“Enjoy the party, Mr. Elliot, Giselle,” and left them behind. I really am getting good at leaving a conversation first.

But much to her chagrin, she was once again halted by a feminine voice behind her. “Miss Rhineton!” 

She was surprised to find the red haired lady from before, the Miss… 

“Celine Bennet.” As if on cue, she reintroduced herself. Ami faced her, curiosity getting the best of her.

The lady was stunning, if in an unusual way. Hair red as autumn leaves in sleek glamorous curls framed her narrow, high cheekbones. Sharp, piercing green eyes glinted above a pointed nose with no trace of innocent naivety, and thin lips painted red curled into a smile. Ami couldn’t help but liken the face to a laughing fox among dull rabbits.

Miss Bennet’s face turned sympathetic. “I hope you weren’t offended by the other girls.” She winced. “They are rather silly things. They mean no harm.”

Ami furrowed her brow. No, those girls knew exactly what they were doing. Trying to read the beauty’s face, she wondered about her.

She shrugged. “It’s in the past.”

Green eyes crinkled into a grin. “I’m so glad. You have a generous heart.” The lady hooked her arm in Ami’s. “The company here has become rather tedious, don’t you think? If you wouldn’t mind, won’t you join me in a turn around the hall?” She smirked and winked. “We can fend off unwanted advances if we stick together.”

Ami forced a smile. “I would like that very much, Miss Bennet.”

“Call me Celine, please,” her wine-red skirt swished against Ami’s dusty blue one at their slow pace. “You have no idea how ecstatic I am for another sensible young woman to join this ostentatious society.” She shuddered, and shot Ami a smile meant to make her laugh. Ami conceded. 

Will I seem more sensible if I let her do all the talking? Ami hoped so, holding back a chuckle.

“I take it you attend many social events?” Ami asked, trying to keep her side of the conversation up.

“Enough. Enough to know who is the latest socialite and who has been snubbed.” Her eyes danced over Ami’s face. “And the rare one who bites back without fear of consequence.” She nodded across the room to the officers from earlier now drinking and bellowing at each other. “Not just at silly young ladies, but war-hardened soldiers.” 

She must have been watching me from early on. 

Ami shrugged. “Perhaps that person is a fool. Someone without fear may well land into irreversible trouble.”  

Celine shook her head. “I rather think fearlessness affords more happiness in freedom.” Her voice was soft.

They walked in silence for a time. The voices of the guests rose and fell like chimes in the wind. Matrons and the elderly sat around tables at the edges, swapping the latest gossip. The young and unattached flirted and courted. So many of the male guests were in the military that their navy blue uniforms far surpassed the gentlemens’ coats. 

A heaviness fell on Ami. The Empire was at war, and had been for years. Men not blessed to be born in the noble ranks fought and died on the battlefield, while the noble officers and their families made merry at parties. 

My husband will be one of them. For once, Ami felt pity for the man she’d never met, the man she was being forced upon. She felt tired. So very tired.

Soon after she paused to pull her arm free. “Forgive me, Miss Celine. I’m afraid I’m feeling under the weather. I will retire now.”

Her companion nodded gently. “I hope I may call on you after your wedding, Miss Amoret.” Ami smiled weakly. “Yes, that would be nice.” With the final farewells, she discreetly left the ballroom, the shrills and laughter echoing hollowly behind her.