Desperately seeking refuge, he scanned the crowd and was relieved to find Rayan, dashing in a white suit with long coattails, idling among the guests. Black ribbons were tied around his wrists and about his neck, the faintest symbolic hint of mourning for his deceased goddess. The familiar face drew Cyrus like flame to a moth. Maybe his nerves would cease if around someone he knew instead of all these strangers.

A young woman conversed with Rayan, their appearances similar enough that Cyrus wondered if there was a family relation. Her flowing dress was black and laced with seemingly dozens of thin gold strands. Her hair was tied in braids, and it, too, glinted a hint of gold. The brooch about her neck bore a faint outline of a butterfly. Easily the most striking was the paint across her face, a colorful splash of red and orange meant to mimic Lycaena’s spread wings.

“Welcome to the party, Vagrant,” Rayan said. He shook Cyrus’s hand. “Glad you could join us.”

Even that simple contact, of a handshake among friends, did wonders to peel away the fear and stress stacked heavily on Cyrus’s mind.

“You look nice,” he said in return. “I didn’t know paladins could wear something other than armored plate.”

“Most days, we would lecture and visit instead of battle. May we soon return to those times.”

“But there is no returning,” the woman at his side said. “Not with the goddess slain.”

Rayan’s practiced smile denied any of his true feelings, but Cyrus could feel the weight of his words when he spoke.

“I daresay the two of you have not been introduced. Vagrant, I would like you to meet my first cousin once removed, Keles Lyon.”

“I find ‘niece’ and ‘uncle’ far easier, and preferable,” the stunning woman said while offering her hand. Cyrus accepted it into his and then froze. Respectable behavior dictated he kiss the fingers during a bow, but what in blazes was he supposed to do while wearing his skull mask? His hesitation drifted into awkwardness, and he quickly dropped his head into a clumsy bow while forgoing the kiss. All the while, Keles’s fingers tingled through his glove as if her skin were electric.

“A pleasure to meet you,” he said, forcing the words out much faster than intended.

“Likewise,” she said. She did not withdraw her hand. It seemed she was perfectly fine dragging out his embarrassment. “Rumors claim you are a ruthless killer, yet I swear you are blushing behind that mask, Vagrant.”

He released her hand and straightened his posture. Gods damn it, she was probably right if the heat building in his neck was any indication.

“Even the coldest of hearts can be melted by the strongest of beauties,” Rayan said, bailing him out. Still, Cyrus did not like the man’s faint smile. It was too… amused.