A young woman, dressed in an extremely elaborate and very impractical lady bandit's costume moved through the Grande Hall. It was aptly named, with its 4 story high vaulted ceilings, elaborate dais, and green marble columns creating a discrete corridor on either side of the hall.

The costumed revealers moved in intricate across the black opaque stone floor, in perfect time with the orchestra, which was discreetly seated in the area directly behind the dais. The acoustics of the hall, however, allowed for the sound to be amplified and carried down the room, which would take a healthy person at a brisk walk several minutes to cross.

The girl longed to join in the marquisette, but her lack of partner and need for discretion forced her to clamp down hard on the feeling and merely enjoy the unusual atmosphere.

"Rayne, you are fighting an ideal situation. Milady needs a bodyguard for the Masquerade. You have been trained since you could walk with your rajas. You are perfectly capable of defending her. You can still enjoy the party while making sure no one takes advantage of the situation. You never mingle with young people anymore."

Rayne grinned ruefully down at the elderly woman who was poking at her dress with pins from her precarious perch on the stool. "Well, Kellin was the only friend I ever really had, and she moved away with milady Yvonne over ten—almost thirteen years ago." She shook her head. "But that's not the point. Even if I could guard Dija, which I'm not sure I could, I wouldn't blend in. I'm not a noble!"

"You've been raised as one. True, you are not a brat, nor a leech, and you use the intelligence that the Gods have blessed you with. Not many nobles do that, true. But you have bearing, and manners, and a spirit the nobles could not buy for all their gold."

She folded the hem of the skirt, and said, "Besides, Milady has already given her permission."

Rayne smiled softly. "So that means I'm going."

Anya nodded. "So that means you're going."

She decided to loop around the hall to look for the Empress. She had drifted out of sight during the last dance on the arm of an old General. However, she was hindered by the strange lines forming down each side of the hall- women on one side, men on the other. A masked reveler bumped into her, then picked up her skirts and hurried past. As she looked over her shoulder, she called, "Get a partner, child, and join the Quadrille!" Rayne attempted to demure, and as she tried to walk around the lines, they converged on one another, and she came face-to-face with a man dressed in an elaborate pirate's outfit. He smiled, a rather intimidating, arrogant smirk that made Rayne's hackles rise, and offered his hand. Rayne automatically tilted her chin up, settled a cool look on her tightened features, and accepted.

As they drew close, he whispered, "Up to leading?"

With a start, and a quick look behind her shoulder, she realized that they were leading the two lines. Soon, the two end couples would meet, perform an elaborate dance representative of the turning of the four Seasons, while the rest of the spectators did a more simple line dance as to watch the four dancers more closely.

Knowing it was not an issue. Any child of noble birth, or, in Rayne's case, in a noble home, learned the dance, in the vain hope that one day they would be able to perform it at the Winter Masquerade. Even performing it was not that big of a deal. Luckily, Rayne's Talent happened to be dance, and any body movement she managed to do was, unconsciously, on beat and with grace.

However, performing it with a perfect stranger at an elaborate ball that she officially should not be attending strained her nerves a tad bit more than a usual performance would.

Still, she thought, I should be able to do this.

And so she did.

As soon as she could escape she did. She quickly hiked up the front of her costume to walk more quickly, and moved to the long corridors to conceal herself, hopefully, in the shadows.

She had just reached the safety of the pillar when the lanky form of a pirate swung out from beside it.

“Hello, kit. Tired from all the exercise?” His voice was purposely teasing and droll.

“Yes. If you would be so kind as to excuse me…” Rayne attempted to go around him, but she struggled with the unfamiliar yards of fabric around her.

“Sorry, kit, I do not feel like being kind tonight.” The teasing note left his voice, and he sighed.

“Milord, is something wrong?” She asked quietly, speaking to his left arm and tilting her ear towards him.

He sighed again, a soft, deep sound that faded quickly. “No, kit, nothing I can’t deal with. Too many nibbles at me, I guess.”

Rayne suddenly made the connection that should have been obvious—and would have been to any other noble girl.

He, the man whom others had given way to graciously, who they eyed curiously when his back was turned, who had the honor of leading the New Year’s Quadrille and picking his own partner had to be a man of incredible power. This man with the noble dark as pitch hair and bright green eyes of royalty had to be the Empress’ nephew, the infamous Lord Sinjun de la Ambrya. He had been ruling the northern coastal lands since the Emperor’s death in that half of the country. The Empress appointed the High Counselor to run things from the Old Capital, while she ran things from the New Capital. Rumors claimed that he had raided the pirates’ coves to win back what had been taken from the Gydians, and in the process, become a better pirate than the pirates. So the lordling has a sense of irony, Rayne thought wryly. His younger sister, Her Highness Lady Yvonne, had been working, or, if you believed the rumors, flirting, with the leaders of the Northern tribes in an effort to stop the raids upon their was a skilled diplomat; she had begun her campaign two years ago, and only six months earlier the raids had ceased across the entire northern border. Now the tribes migrated to the capital in turns, selling their horses at a much greater profit then they had earlier anticipated. It was a good trade—a hardy Northern horse was very valuable, and previously had to be stolen-—peace for commerce.

Though rumors flitted about them thick as flies, they were a force to be reckoned with and regarded as acceptable heirs to the throne. For, although Sinjuin was the elder, both would assume the their respective titles of Emperor and Empress until Sinjiun married.

They had once been old playmates. Now they were superior strangers.

Rayne, tilting her head in study, gazing at a point just above Sinjuin’s left ear, got lost in the memories.

They had been the best of friends, their little group of five that glorious week where the Prince and Princess de la Ambrya met with the Empress-Apparent in that country estate. Though Sinjuin, nine, and Coulter, eleven, were tempted to do more masculine things, they often managed to incorporate the girls into most of their schemes. Consequently, they were a force to be reckoned with when it came to creating havoc. Rayne, who was only six at the time, adored the ten year old Kellin and was awed by the nine year old Yvonne.

They were playing “rescue the princesses from the evil Father”. The Prince had taken the girls in for a drink while the boys “hunted” for them when the assassins attacked. All Rayne could remember is Yvonne’s sobs and her own screaming. And all the blood. When she finally managed to shove the door open, she saw Sinjuin trying desperately to pull the knives out of his father’s dead body. His mother’s form laid slumped in the doorway. Chase had tried to revive Kellin, and Yvonne could only sob. And Rayne could only stare at all of the blood.

That had been the last Rayne had seen, up close, the slender boy, at the brink of maturity. It had been the last she had seen of the slightly spoiled girl, only seven at the time, but her wide eyes now old with the knowledge of death.

Rayne watched from one of the towers. She could see Sinjuin and Yvonne, in silhouette, riding at the top of the carriage. A large man drove the carriage. Inside rested the bodies of their parents.

That night, the Empress had held Rayne and wept bitterly. The woman she had loved as a sister had died, suddenly and with no apparent reason or purpose. Her younger beloved brother was gone, ripped from her as well. She could only pray to the gods that the daughter she had adopted would not disappear as well.

Rayne blinked slowly, rising from the memory. Sinjuin had not wasted the few moments, his sharp eyes had studied her, and she saw recognition—but not realization, not yet. She curtsied quickly, wheeled, and ran.

Flustered with the sudden reunion, and growing irritated with the Empress’ abrupt disappearance, Rayne decided to check the Empress’ chambers. Dija might have grown tired, and the dance is the official end of the ball. Rayne mused. She swiftly moved out of the Grande Hall and into the hallway. She made it to the doors of the Quarters before she realized that she was being followed. Her footsteps were not the only ones echoing in the hallway. She strode quickly through the door, with a nod to the guard, Leon, at the door, and hastened her pace: maybe she could lose them. She was not in the mood for confrontation.

She easily made her way through the maze that was the Quarters. She was so focused on reaching the Empress’ rooms and finding her there that when she finally reached the door she paused and breathed a sigh of relief. She could hear movement inside: she had found the Empress again. Thanks the Gods.

Suddenly a hand shot out beside her head and landed with a loud slap against the door. Rayne spun around, rajas in hand.

She was face to face with Lord Sinjuin.

His eyes narrowed fiercely. “Who are you?” he asked. “I know you. I know I do. So who are you and why are you at milady’s doors?”

Rayne glared right back at him. “Your Highness, I am merely milady’s humble maidservant and bodyguard.” At this one of His Highness’ eyebrows rose skeptically. “Right.”

Her glare didn’t soften. “My name is Rayne. I’ve been adopted by the Empress for all intents and purposes, and right now I’d really like to check on her.”

She turned again, faced the door, and heaved a deep breath. Sinjuin backed away, letting his hand fall. Rayne opened the door, took two steps inside, and in that time her eyes adjusted to the darkness inside.

She started to hyperventilate, and backed out of the room. She grabbed Sinjuin by his sleeve and dragged him inside.

Blood. Don’t think. Don’t think. With one eye closed, she searched the dimly lit plush room. The rust colored stain on the floor contrasted horribly with the Imperial purples and royal blues. Rayne’s gaze fell on the Empress, and her breath caught in her throat. Her throat had been brutally slashed, from ear to ear, blood staining the fine lace that had once graced her neck. But the murderer hadn’t stopped: her chest was viciously stabbed, both silk and skin ripped to shreds.

“Dead.” Rayne gasped, fighting lightheadedness.

“Dead.” Sinjuin agreed his voice harsh in her ear.

Rayne stepped forwards once before she found Anya lying on the ground behind the low table in front of the couch, curled on her side, arms about her head. She had sustained what looked like a deep stomach wound. Suddenly, she sat straight up. "Murder!" she rasped.

Rayne jumped back into Sinjuin. She managed to register that Anya received a malicious cut above her right eye before Anya sighed and sunk back into oblivion.

"No, really?" Sinjuin sarcastically muttered. Rayne could feel him toughen up in one rolling, hardening, stiffening wave of muscle. She started to shake. It was too much to absorb. Too much like the past. They had already lived through one of these—who had to live through a tragedy twice?

"Well, damn." Sinjuin muttered. "Priorities." He dragged Rayne back into the hall and held her firmly at forearm's length.

"Rayne. Rayne, look at me." She stopped shuddering momentarily and looked up at him.

"I'm okay."

He let the lie slide and continued. "Go call the Guard. We need them to start searching the halls, and a Healer to try something with Madame Anya. Hurry!"

Rayne nodded numbly, hitched up her skirts and dashed down the hall. Sinjuin took a moment to focus on her shapely legs, then deliberately turned his attention back to the problem at hand. He walked into the dim room, knelt next to the Madame, and took her gnarled, wrinkled hands into his own. He murmured soothing noises as he waited for Rayne to come back, trying desperately not to remember his childhood trauma.

"Leon." Rayne rushed up to the grizzled man, who was standing guard at the other entrance to the Labyrinth.

"Rayne?" He relaxed his severe look long enough to look slightly puzzled.

"I need you to get the Guard to secure the Labyrinth. Someone has murdered the Empress. I need you to shut down the halls and…and…" She looked helplessly at the guard as his face hardened. "You know what to do. I am going to find a Healer." She dashed down the hall, and she could hear Leon's heavy footsteps going in the opposite direction.

Somehow she got through the rest of the morning. Now she could barely remember getting to the Healer section, procuring the Head Healer in a rush, and hustling her down the Labyrinth. She could hazily remember the ending of the party, with members of the Guard interrogating and searching everyone before they could depart. It had taken hours, even with 20 Senior Guards doing the interviews. A few of the extremists had wanted to keep everyone in the Hall until the murderer was caught, but soon they were brought to their senses and they realized the impossibility of the suggestion.

Thankfully she could not remember her own interrogation, right after Sinjuin's. From all appearances it had been brutal, and she vaguely remembered praying that she answered all the questions correctly.

Once the body had been cleaned, examined and prepared by the Healers, the Empress had been placed in front of the deis in all her sober Imperial glory. Rayne had organized the servants into clearing the hall and adding the few sober decorations appropriate for a wake. According to tradition, the body was to be watched over by the relatives of the deceased for the entire night, then it would be taken outside the city and burned with the dawn, in accordance with the Ihan tradition that had been adopted by the Gydians for practicality in a desert surrounding.

Rayne barely had time to throw on an appropriate mourning outfit—a black formal dress with her hair unbound from its fancy arrangement from the Winter Festival, and her feet rinsed since she would be barefoot—when the High Counselor walked in.

“Yes?” she asked, as she untied her opal from around her neck and tied it so that it rested in the middle of her head, as usual. Like all servants, the jewel served as a sign of her station: she was the only one who wore an opal, as she was the only personal maidservant to the Empress.

“I wanted to offer my deepest sympathy.” He said gravely, as he bowed to her. Rayne sighed, and curtsied back. “I accept.” She said as she finished tying her jewel. “Now what did you come here to discuss.”

His face, wrinkled as a prune, shifted from its attempt at sympathetic back to its usual inscrutable.

“The mourning plans.”

“As per usual.” She replied. “I’ve spoken with the Master of Horse, and he will gather the people necessary for the procession tomorrow. I’ve sent servants to their Highnesses to alert them of when the wake starts, and I expect them to be here by twilight. The Guard is continuing the investigation as best they can, and they have joined forces with the City police in gathering as much information as possible. The procession will be as straightforward as possible, due to the—“ her voice cracked” “—murder, and the site will be further from the city to accommodate what I’m told will be a larger crowd due to that shorter route.”

The High Counselor nodded. “Good. You have made much progress since I have called Council.”

Rayne glanced at him as she put away her costume. “Oh? Is that where all the powers that be have been since the end of the questioning?”

The High Counselor nodded again, wisely. “Yes. This was good, for I did not have to call many in, they were here for the celebration.”

Rayne turned away again. “Yes. I’m sure. And you’ve decided on the succession?”

The High Counselor paused. Rayne looked at him sharply. “What? It’s not to be Lord Sinjuin?”

He pursed his lips. “It seems that the General Herosi is convinced that there is a Blood heir in the city—in the Moon Temple, to be precise. Supposedly he had evidence, but it has been lost. But he claims Her Imperial Highness confided to him that she had a child, and to keep him—“

“A male?” Rayne broke out in surprise. Usually it was the females kept hidden, for, in being female, were that much more likely to be weak, both in constitution and mind. Empress Della was an exception to the rule.

“Yes. Though he has yet to provide proof, he has made others of the Council take pause, and enough of them to force us to delay announcing the new Emperor.”

Rayne thought for a moment. “So who will rule? Council?”

He nodded. “With myself as acting Head of Council.”

Rayne brushed her dress with her hand, and made to pass him so she could leave. “Excuse me, I need to find a veil and then go to the Grande Hall.”

The High Counselor put a gnarled hand to her arm. She noticed dispassionately that he had no calluses, except for one that developed from writing. “I’d forgo the veil. It’s only for females of the blood to wear.” He sniffed. “We wouldn’t want people getting ideas.”

Rayne shrugged off his hand violently. “Like they have already? She’s officially adopted me, sir. Are you going to try to erase that? She’s raised me, and I was going to show her proper respect, even though I am of lowly Ishan breed with my light hair and dark skin. If you feel that it would be unseemly, then by all means I won’t disgrace her.” She strode out of her room, then paused by the door. “After you.”

He walked out of her room in measured strides, his robe sweeping regally around his feet. Rayne shut the door sharply, and walked at a clipped pace to the Grande Hall.

She was kneeling on the cushions in front of the display when Sinjuin and Yvonne came up from behind her, with Kellin trailing with a tall redheaded man. Rayne glanced back and realized it was Chase. Oh, why were they all coming back together now?

All were dressed in magnificent incarnations of black, with Vyonne wearing a floor-length sheer black veil. Rayne felt somewhat the poor relation, but then comforted herself with the fact that, blood or no, she was the closest here to Empress Della’s daughter.

Sinjuin knelt on the far end of the cushion. Rayne heard Yvonne whisper to Kellin, then she knelt between her brother and Rayne.

Rayne was brought back by someone draping a sheer black veil over her. She glanced up, and met Kellin’s wry look, glazed over in tears. “Yvonne’s.” She whispered, and kissed her over the fabric on the top of her head. Kellin then pinned it to Rayne’s corkscrew-like blonde hair, and left to sit in the rows of chairs with Chase. That was where anyone who wasn’t family would sit—everyone from the High Counselor to the dishwasher. And chances were, with an Empress as beloved as this, everyone would. Rayne worried briefly about the potential lack of seats, and then dismissed it. She had done the best she could.

She drifted in and out of consciousness all night, but she was pleased to note that she never swayed noticeably or fell down. She could tell, by glances to the right, that Yvonne was kept upright only by medicine, to judge by the shaking of her hands, and Sinjuin by sheer anger, from the clenching of his jaw.

She was brought fully to the present by the entrance of the burly grooms. They would bear the coffin to the carriage. The three of them would follow, and ride on the top tier of the carriage. Everyone else, more than likely, would follow the carriage throughout the route, behind the honor guard.

The procession was every bit as depressing as Rayne thought it would be. The people in the street, a mix of Gydian peasantry, middle class, and even a few nobles, Ishan people, and other groups of foreigners thrown in for good mix all wailed loudly, pounding on the ground and throwing up dust in the early twilight of the morning. It lent an eerie atmosphere to the procession. The nobles rode behind the carriage, and she could hear, over the sound of hooves, sobbing. Behind the nobles the group of servants from the palace walked in a large group, the women sobbing and wailing loudly.

Rayne could see tears dripping down Yvonne’s face behind the veil, and could hear the occasional sniffle. She heard nothing from Sinjuin.

Shock had settled in comfortably. She could watch the group of servants unload the casket and put it on top of the pyre. A group of women, robed in various forms of white linen, stood in a half-ring about the pyre. The group of people from behind the coffin had grown, and they finished the ring. Sinjuin, Rayne, and Vyonne stood in front of the group, the Council and the High Counselor right behind them.

Rayne wondered momentarily why the Moon Priests hadn’t sent delegates, at least, then noticed a group of women and girls standing quietly behind the priestesses. A man stood in their midst: the Moon priest, she assumed. As it was dawn now, they must all be retiring, although she thought it rude of them not to show for their own monarch’s funeral rite.

The High Priestess walked forward a bit, and cleared her throat. The group quieted.

“High Counselor!” She called in a low, throaty voice.

“Yes, High Priestess. I have brought the prophecy that I have not read since receiving it these two nights past.”

“Please read it now.”

The High Counselor demurred. “My voice is too old. Here, Lord Prince, you read it.”

Sinjuin took the sealed scroll and broke it, and unrolled it. “The Sun Goddess, mighty in her glory, has revealed to Aglaia, her unworthy servant, on this day of winter solstice, that an unworthy will be struck down most violently for her sacrilegious actions against the very Goddess herself. No mourning should ensue, no tears wept for this evil woman. She has corrupted her high station and so shall fall the furthest one can fall.” Sinjuin looked up sharply. “What are you saying? And without the oracle speak.”

The High Priestess lifted her chin. “I shall not give this woman the rite of death.”

The groups—secular and nonsecular alike—gasped. Rayne was horrified. To not receive the rite of death was dishonor of every kind, not to mention the disgrace of having your body corrupted after your death. She looked about wildly, ignoring the yelling that had begun.

Sinjuin shouted, “How dare you? Have you proof that this is of what you spoke?”

The High Priestess called back, “There is no higher power, boy! She died the day that the evil one was to die! I need no more proof than that!”

By this time Rayne had snatched a torch from one of the peasantry who had brought it along to fight off the cool dawn air. She threw it at the base of the pyre, and flames licked up along its side. Moments later, the entire base was afire, keeping the body from sight.

The High Priestess shrieked. “How dare you! How dare you disobey the Goddess’ direct command! You shall be punished from on high! Curses will fall on you and your children!”

“Oh, shut your mouth and cease your curses.” Rayne turned on the squealing woman. She continued in a harsh whisper, and the crowd quieted to hear her words over the crackle of the flame. “You know as well as I that the Empress was not evil in any sense of the word. Because she did not bow and scrape to your every demand in the name of holiness did not make her sacrilegious, and she deserves the rite of death just as much as you or I.” With that, Rayne turned away, trying desperately to stop the sobs from rising in her throat.

“Here.” Kellin appeared from nowhere, leading a noble’s horse. “’Tis Yvonne’s. I brought it just in case. Take it back to the palace, and prepare yourself. That might not have been the smartest move.”

Rayne sniffed desperately. “I don’t care.”

Kellin smiled dryly. “I know.”

Rayne swung herself up slowly, as to not catch her dress or veil on any part of the saddle, then kicked the horse into a gallop. The people stared at her as she rode past, back into the city, back to the palace, and back home.