Iannis could have easily led the way by himself, but apparently, we were required to have an escort. The aide led us down the entrance hall, then to the right. We passed the coffee shop at the corner, where I’d spent the bulk of my time during the last Convention, eavesdropping on conversations between mages in an attempt to discover the Minister’s location. Toward the end of the hall, a set of carpeted stairs led toward the offices. I’d tried in vain to get up there the last time I was here, but it had been guarded too well. There was no way to get up there without drawing attention to myself and possibly compromising my disguise.

This time, however, I had no disguise to compromise. And since Iannis and I were escorted by the Minister’s aide, there was nothing to stop us from going up those stairs.

Just like last time, there were two guards posted at the entrance, and they bowed to us as we passed. My heels made barely a sound against the red carpet as we climbed the staircase and stepped into a smaller, but no less well-appointed lobby.

“Welcome, Lord Iannis.” Another receptionist sat behind another glossy desk. This one had pale blonde hair pulled back from her face into an elegant updo, and she wore mage robes of moss green. “And Miss Baine,” she added, her grey eyes narrowing ever so slightly as she acknowledged me. “The Minister is expecting you both.”

Ar’Mengis nodded to her and led us down a long hallway. Portraits of previous Federation politicians graced the papered walls. They looked down at me scornfully, as if to suggest I didn’t belong there. I ignored their judgmental stares and kept my head high as the aide rapped lightly on the heavy wooden door at the end of the hall.

“Come in,” a firm, commanding voice called from the other side, and the aide pushed it open.

Iannis and I were ushered into a large office decorated in red, white, and gold—the Northia Federation’s colors. It was a grand space, with a well-appointed sitting area on one side of the room, and a large desk, shelving, and chairs on the other. At the desk sat the Minister, who looked to have been in the middle of reading a report. Behind him, a trio of large glass windows provided a gorgeous view of the glittering city.

“Good evening, Minister,” Iannis said, bowing. I did the same, though I stayed silent and studied the Minister through my lowered lashes. His long, yellow hair was tied back at the nape of his neck, leaving his austere features unframed. He was dressed in red-and-gold robes that I knew would help him cut a fine figure standing. It was those robes, and his commanding presence, that made others sit up and take notice—his facial features themselves were rather ordinary, nothing in comparison to Iannis’s masculine beauty.