“Forgive my hesitation,” he said, trying to explain himself. “I would show proper manners, but I doubt you would appreciate the touch of this mask.”

“I would indeed not,” Keles said. “There’s fresh blood on it.”

But of course. Despite that seeming an impossibility, he now felt even more foolish. At the same time, it was nice how little she cared for his outward persona. The people around him seemed on edge at the mask and his swords. The same could not be said for Rayan and Keles. Cyrus remained with the pair as his nerves slowly eased. Rayan was a pleasure to be around as always, but Cyrus’s attention shifted constantly to Keles. She studied him without bothering to hide it, and her tongue was sharp as she poked and prodded him throughout their conversation. Out of everyone present, she seemed the least impressed with his mask, crown, and macabre garb.

“I suppose I should go mingle with others,” she said after a few minutes. “As with my uncle, Thorda has requested I spread rumors of your failed assassination attempt on the regent.”

“You mean his message,” Rayan said. “The Vagrant did not fail.”

“Of course not,” she said, and her smile was playful and mocking in equal measure. “What was I thinking?”

The paladin and his niece both bade Cyrus farewell, once more abandoning him to the crowd. Thankfully this time he need not search for another familiar face. With Thorda remaining absent, Cyrus had thought the same would go for his daughters, but he was wrong. Stasia sought him out, her hair tied back in a ponytail and her face hidden behind her panther skull mask. She wore her wrist and shin guards, polished to a shine. Her twin axes hung from clips attached to her belt. Unlike all the finery around her, she wore plain trousers and a dark gray shirt with its sleeves cut at the shoulder, granting a fine display of every rippling muscle when she moved her arms.

A man and woman accompanied her, and they bowed in greeting. Though he had met her only twice, Cyrus recognized the red-haired woman, Clarissa. Unlike Stasia, she very much belonged, wearing a tight green gown that left little to the imagination. The other person, gray-haired and wearing a black-and-violet suit, was wholly new to him.

“I’ll let you three discuss in private,” Clarissa said upon the four gathering, and she kissed Stasia on the cheek. She winked in Cyrus’s direction before vanishing into the crowd, and for a brief moment he feared she had noticed his wandering eyes.

“It is good to meet you at last, Vagrant,” Stasia said, the lie easy on her tongue. “Allow me to introduce you to a vital member of our resistance, Commander Pilus Arenthan.”