Author: Erin Klitzke

Nine

“You are unaccountably distracted,” Caius murmured, not looking at the man standing next to him. They were up on the balcony overlooking the courtyard of his manor, watching the final preparations for the night’s gala. Servants in silver and white livery moved quickly, clearing space for carriages to be parked and checking the cobbles and bricks fo the yard to make sure they were firmly in place. Others hung greenery and banners from sconces on the walls and set themselves to lighting lanterns hung all along the circular drive that stopped in front of the stairs at the entry. They were less than an hour from its start, less than an hour from sunset. The festivities would be on them before they knew it. “What’s going on?”

Ascalon shook his head slowly, staring blankly out over the walls and at the gate, a gate that stood closed tonight, the road empty before it. He could just barely catch glimpses of Coronet below them, down the hill, lamps starting to slowly be lit as twilight sank lower over the city. “Nothing that has bearing on the current situation,” he said, finally glancing sidelong to his brother. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I always worry,” Caius said, crossing his arms. “Especially when it seems like something’s gotten you upset.”

“That’s what makes you a good brother,” Ascalon said, then smiled, hoping the expression didn’t seemed as forced as it felt. He’d meant it to be reassuring. The dubious glance Caius gave him told him he’d failed. A sigh escaped his lips.  “I mean it, Cay. It’s not anything you should worry about right now. There’s enough on your plate.”

“My plate?” Caius’s brow quirked. “You should consider your own as closely.”

“I know what I have to do in order to make all of this work,” Ascalon murmured softly. “I’m your first line of defense in this Sapphire Crown business. If I think what they bring is genuine, then they get to you. No sooner, no negotiations.”

Caius stared at him for a few moments and Ascalon struggled to avoid the weight of that stare. He knew what Caius was thinking but wouldn’t acknowledge it. His brother was worried, and he was entitled to that worry, but at the same time, Ascalon hadn’t lied to him. What was bothering him had nothing to do with what they were going to embark on—it had everything to do with other things beyond both of their abilities to control.

“Let it go,” Ascalon said quietly, not quite pleading, not yet. The look of concern on Caius’s face only got worse and Ascalon winced.

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” Caius asked.

He nodded. “I’m sure, but if something changes, I’ll let you know.”

“That’s all I ask,” Caius murmured, then turned his attention back to the courtyard, leaning against the rail. “Do you think we’re making the right decision?”

“Mm.” Ascalon crossed his arms, joining his brother in his lean, though while Caius stayed upright, Ascalon leaned against his crossed arms, down closer to the thick stone rail. “I do,” he said, once he was more comfortably settled, his spine stretching slightly as he shifted his position. “This gives them something to concentrate on, something to rally around—and it saves you from wasting resources best turned toward other things.”

Caius snorted softly. “I would ask what other things you’re talking about but I suspect you’d look at me like I’d grown a second head.”

“Aye, because you know full well what I’m talking about.” Ascalon shook his head. “It’s the right call, Cay. The alternative is petty squabbling and possible war with Proximus. That’s not something we can afford now is it? Lord Darrow has already expressed displeasure at the raiding along his border, though he can’t tell us who’s responsible. This will rechannel the energies of the nobles and the knights—and all of their alliances.”

“Unless or until it’s found,” Caius said quietly. “And then what?”

“Hopefully, the tensions will have eased by then and we won’t have war to worry about. Otherwise, we figure something else out—one way or another, it works itself out. There’s no other choice in this equation.”

“You seem damned certain,” Caius said, glancing at him. “How?”

“Because I have faith in the Lord of Elfaedil.” Ascalon looked up at him and smiled a tight, grim smile. “Or is that faith misplaced, brother?”

Caius was silent for a long moment as he settled his hand on Ascalon’s shoulder. “No,” he murmured. “Never.”

“Good,” Ascalon said, then straightened. “Come on. Your guests will be arriving soon. We’d better make sure we’re both ready for that.”

He turned to walk inside, and after one last glance around the courtyard below, Caius turned and followed him.

Joslyn let out a low whistle, moving around her slowly in a circle, studying her from the hem of her crown to the crown of her head. “I can’t believe it,” she said, eyes glittering in the dying sunlight. “You look incredible.”

Elaine blushed, adjusting the neckline of her gown slightly. “Thanks. Not bad for short notice, is it?”

“Not bad is definitely not the terminology I would choose in this scenario,” Joslyn said, shaking her head. “Mistress Margot is some kind of miracle worker.”

“Not a miracle worker, just an artist.” Elaine smiled. “Well-chosen, then?”

“Absolutely,” Joslyn said. “Were you worried about that?”

“Maybe a little. I’ve never done this before, remember?”

“There’s that,” Joslyn said. “But you shouldn’t have worried—not at all. I mean it. You look incredible. People are going to wonder where the hell you’ve been in all of the best ways tonight.”

“Speaking of,” Elaine said, glancing toward the street. “Shouldn’t we be getting into that carriage and heading off?”

Joslyn smirked. “Worried we’ll be fashionably late?”

“Not fashionably. Just late.” Elaine smiled. “Besides, aren’t you excited for Ascalon to see you in all of your finery?”

Joslyn twitched her skirts—her gown ink-black with traceries of red and gold worked through it at the hem and through the bodice. “Well,” she admitted. “Maybe a little.”

Elaine took her by the hand, tugging slightly as she turned to head for their waiting carriage. “Then let’s go before he dies of suspense.”

“He will not die of suspense,” Joslyn said, laughing as she let Elaine tug her down the walk toward the edge of the street and the carriage. A footman hopped off the sideboard to open the door and drop the step, waiting alongside to hand each woman into the carriage like something out of a fairy tale.

“He won’t if we’re not late,” Elaine said, grinning.

The footman, dressed in the colors of Elfaedil, bowed to them as they reached the street’s edge. “M’lady Arenvale, m’lady Grovesong. It is an honor to serve you this evening.”

“Thank you,” Elaine said with a smile. She took the footman’s offered hand and let him help her up and into the carriage, lit within by magic-powered lamps. A moment later, Joslyn joined her in the well-appointed interior, complete with plush, comfortable benches and curtains for privacy. The footman shut the door to the carriage and latched it, and a moment later the carriage jolted into motion, the hooves of the paired bays clopping softly against the cobbled streets.

“Does Lord Caius always provide conveyance for his guests?” Elaine asked, leaning forward to be heard over the sound of the carriage’s wheels and the horses’ footfalls.

Joslyn smiled. “Only when it’s big.”

“Which means…?”

“That you have made an excellent choice about when to make your debut, Isolde. Have no doubt about that.”

Elaine settled back against the rear wall of the carriage, exhaling a breath quietly. “Is it really that remarkable that I haven’t made it to one of these?”

“A little,” Joslyn said. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much, though. I think there will be more than enough going on tonight that no one will have much time to pay attention to the new face in the crowd that probably should have been there the whole time.”

“Is that a dig?”

Joslyn shot her a smirk. “Maybe a little one.”

“I am busy you know,” Elaine said. “And my lands are fairly remote.”

“And yet, you spend most of your time in the city.” The smirk was still in place, though Elaine knew her friend was teasing. Her gaze drifted toward the window and for a moment, Joslyn watched the city as it flashed past them. “It’s all right. Don’t whip yourself into some kind of frenzy over it. Everything will be fine. Who knows? Maybe no one will notice.” Her gaze flicked toward Elaine again. “If whatever this all about is big enough, no one will.”

“So you said,” Elaine murmured, her own gaze drifting toward the window. They were nearing the edge of the city, now, moving toward the road that led up the hill to Lord Caius’s manor at the top. It glittered in the setting sun, the walls painted oranges and pinks and golds in the fading light, torches and lamps flickering atop its walls and in the windows of the keep that towered above them. She exhaled a sigh, her stomach tightening and a lump swelling in her throat. There was little reason for her nerves, and yet there they were, huge and real and almost enough to make her tell the driver to stop and let her out.

She wouldn’t let herself do that, though. Joslyn was right—she had been far too divorced from this for far too long. It was time—and postponing any longer would just make things worse in the long run.

It wasn’t just all of that, though, that caused her visceral reaction. There was a mysterious beauty to Lord Caius’s manor that captured her senses and her imagination. The ruler of Elfaedil was aloof, a mystery in and of himself. She hadn’t heard much of him beyond the fact that he liked his privacy and that he was powerful, benevolent when warranted and dangerous when provoked.

She didn’t know what to expect, and that, too, fed into her nerves—and the excitement that had been building since she arrived at Mistress Margot’s seeking a dress for the evening.

The carriage started up the long, winding roadway up the hill to the cliff where the manor perched. Elaine smiled.

Won’t be long now.

Only a little bit further to go.

“We’ll be there soon,” Joslyn said softly, watching her.

“I know,” Elaine murmured, gaze still on the manor—no, truly it was a castle on the hill, not something so simple as a manor—rising above them. “You’ve been there before?”

“A few times.”

“Alone?”

From the corner of her eye, she could see Joslyn shake her head. “No. Like this, usually, for a gathering. Once with just Ascalon and I.”

There was a question Elaine wanted to ask, but it slipped from her before her lips could form the words. It was going to be a beautiful night, if the colors painted in the sky were any indication. She sighed softly and shook her head.

“I shouldn’t be nervous.”

“No,” Joslyn agreed, grinning. “You shouldn’t be.”

“Then I suppose I won’t be,” Elaine said, turning back to her with a smile. “This will be fun.”

“Without a doubt,” Joslyn said. “It always is.”

The carriage lurched for a moment, pausing as it joined a line of other carriages approaching the gates, unfolded wrought iron twisted in knots, standing open awaiting Lord Caius’s guests for the evening. She couldn’t quite see to count how many carriages were ahead of them, nor how many were behind, but she assumed it was quite a few—likely every noble of every stripe in Elfaedil and likely even more people besides.

As Joslyn had said, tonight was going to be big, though no one was quite certain what would make it that way beyond the gala.

“Probably some kind of announcement tonight,” Joslyn murmured, jarring her from her thoughts. Elaine glanced at her, brow arching.

“About what, though?”

“With him, you never know,” Joslyn said, fidgeting with a glove. “Could be anything. Last time it felt this big, though, it was announcing the Thorne affair.”

Elaine blinked. “He announced—”

“Now do you see why I told you that you should come this time?” Joslyn was grinning again and Elaine huffed a sigh.

“You could have just said so.”

“But would it have been as convincing?”

“May—”

The carriage stopped and Elaine’s gaze snapped back to the window.

They had arrived.

The footman hopped off the running board and came around to the side of the carriage, setting the step before he unlatched the door. “Ladies,” he said quietly. “Welcome to Weatherstone.”

Elaine found it oddly hard to breathe as the footman handed first Joslyn, then her down from the carriage. She unconsciously shook out her skirts, resettling them as she moved a few steps away from the carriage. Joslyn glanced toward her even as she reached back to take Elaine’s hand.

“Come on,” her friend murmured, moving toward the steps, her pace measured, unhurried, gliding like some sort of dancer across the bricks and cobbles of the courtyard toward the polished granite stairs into the keep’s main entrance, massive dark oak doors flung wide to greet the gathering night and Lord Caius’s guests. Two liveried guards flanked the doors, studying each new arrival with critical gazes, but neither moved to block their passage as they reached the top of the stairs and glided toward those open doors.

The foyer beyond was massive, lit by lanterns and a thousand candles, the floors of polished dark stone tiles. A massive staircase stood opposite the door, curving up on either side to meet before another set of massive doors. These, too, stood open, and other men and women garbed in finery similar to their own drifted up those steps in singlets, in groups and pairs, all funneling at their own pace through those doors.

Elaine took a deep breath. Joslyn squeezed her hand.

This is it.

She let go of Joslyn’s hand to mount the stairs, steeper and not as deep as the ones outside, needing both hands to lift her skirts just high enough that she wouldn’t step on their hems. Joslyn shot her a grin, falling in beside her, and together they headed up the curving marble stair to the doors to the great hall.

The first thing that struck Elaine as they stepped through the doors and into the great hall was the sheer scale of the space. It was massive, with galleries running along its walls, set above massive windows that stretched from a few feet above the floor to graceful arched tops that ended just below the braces that helped support the galleries. More windows lined the galleries, stretching again a few feet from the floor all the way to the ceiling. The windows ran along both the right and left hand sides of the great hall, one side overlooking ornate gardens, the other with a view over simpler landscaping and the cliffs to the sea beyond. Elaine’s breath caught and she paused for the space of a heartbeat, eyes widening.

“Don’t hold up traffic,” Joslyn whispered to her, steering her toward the stairway down to the main level of the great hall.

Elaine blinked and shook herself, blushing slightly. “Of course not,” she murmured. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Joslyn said. “Everyone reacts the same way the first time.”

The great hall was thronged with people, though not so many as Elaine initially expected—though not as few as she feared. They were clustered here and there in groups, already deep in conversation, others sipped at wine or other spirits near the refreshment tables, while still more leaned against columns, alone and watching. There was a small orchestra at one corner at the far end of the room, still warming up and tuning instruments quietly, not quiet ready to play.

I suppose that means there’s going to be dancing later, Elaine thought, trying not to frown. She kept pace with Joslyn as they wended their way through the drifting mass.

“Where’s Ascalon?” she asked her friend in a stage whisper—it was the only way she’d be heard but not overheard.

Joslyn jerked her chin toward the gallery at the far end of the room. “There.”

Sure enough, there he was, dressed in black and silver, standing near the railing, his gaze roaming lazily over the great hall—until it lit on them. Even at this distance, Elaine could see the brief flash of a smile before the figure next to him said something and he turned away, smile fading.

It took a second for it to register who the figure beside him was. Elaine blinked. “That’s—”

A series of loud thuds interrupted her and the room grew eerily silent, the hush coming so quickly and so absolutely it was as if someone had suddenly hit a mute button on the scene. Elaine’s heart skipped a beat. She glanced back to see if people were still arriving and found the doors to the great hall closing, whisper-quiet on well-oiled hinges.

She looked back toward the balcony, her mouth dry.

Straight to the main event, then.

Joslyn’s fingers twined through hers and squeezed. She squeezed back, bracing herself.

It was time.

Eight

Jason stepped off the elevator and onto the fourth floor, home of his art and story teams for Universe. The usual hum of activity was present, though dimmed slightly—likely due to the late hour and fading effects of varying levels of caffeination amongst the artists and writers. It was nearly four-thirty on a Friday, and several team members had already headed home for the day or had taken the day off, understandable on a pleasant October Friday with a weekend that promised to be just as nice.

“Later than usual today,” Zander Hampton observed, wheeling back half a foot back from his desk to catch Jason’s eye. “Two days in a row.”

“Well, yesterday was launch,” Jason reminded him, unslinging his messenger bag that held his tablet and sketchpads, his pencils and colors, and dropping it onto one of the couches in the center of an open span of floor. The lounge area was ringed by the artists’ workstations, some with drafting tables, others with computers—and more than a few with both. There was a similar spot on the other side for the writers, and then a communal one on the west side of the building, bridging the gap between the teams.

Collaboration space, Marissa had called it while both of her brothers’ eyes had glazed over, but Jason had to admit that having that area dedicated to everyone did help when it was time for meetings in the conference auditorium at the east end of the floor.

“Yesterday made sense,” Zander said, grinning. “What’s today’s excuse? Storyboarding up in the penthouse again?”

“Nothing that glamorous,” Jason assured him. “Trust me. We were going over some of the numbers on the streams and some other numbers. Subscriptions, that sort of thing. Not nearly as fun as you’re thinking it could be.”

The artist’s nose wrinkled. “That bad, huh?”

“Any day he’s not drawing is a bad day for him,” Gayle Mason observed, leaning against the wall near the shared lounge space. A member of the writing team, Gayle had been with the company since it became more than just a pipe dream cooked up by three siblings and their brother-in-law. Jason had met her after he’d left the service and gone back to school and recruiting her as one of their story leads had been a no-brainer as far as he was concerned. “How’re the numbers looking?”

“Pretty good,” Jason said, leaning against the back of one of the couches, positioning himself so he could see both Zander and Gayle. “Subscription numbers bounced a little, but we weren’t exactly expecting much of a spike yet—that’ll come in a few weeks, if it comes at all. Goal was maintaining levels. Also looked at the stream numbers and those were pretty impressive—major spike over other casts and the replays have had a pretty consistent draw. We’ve got some players doing streams and commentary and that’s drawing hits and everything’s sounding pretty positive.”

Zander’s brow quirked. “What about the turnout for the go-live at the cafés? Are those numbers in yet?”

“Preliminaries,” Jason said, then smiled. “They’re beating projections. Marissa’s trying to figure out how the hell her business analysts could have been so damned far off the mark.”

“Ha!” Zander clapped his hands together, startling a few of the other artists and drawing a few confused looks. He shot them all a grin and turned his attention back to Jason. “You know damned well how that happened.”

Jason shrugged. “I do, but when I say something she gets mad.”

“I can only imagine her mad,” Gayle mused. “Must be pretty rough.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Jason said, rubbing his temple. His older sister could be a force of nature when she put her mind to it—which mercifully didn’t happen often at all, especially where her brothers were concerned.

“Anything else interesting come out of your all-day powwowing?” Zander asked, leaning back in his wheelchair. “Or was it a whole ton of that?”

“Mostly that,” Jason said with a slight shrug, though he glanced toward Gayle. “Peter wants an update on where we’re at with storyline design for the next push. Wants to know if we’ll be ready to start doing voicework for it before the end of the month.”

One shoulder hitched in a shrug. “We can be. Wouldn’t take much. Is that what he wants.”

“It sounded like it.”

She nodded. “Then we’ll adjust deadlines Monday and tell the team. Mostly it’s just looking over the last adjustments and then setting scripts. Little late to tell them tonight, though—most of them are already gone for the day.”

The story team had a tendency to start earlier than the rest of the employees and bail out a little earlier—typically, most of them found their creative juices flowed better with judicious applications of coffee around or before 8am. Jason didn’t mind it as much as some of the other divisions did, but Peter had always smoothed over any tensions with a few words and a smile—despite his insistence that Jason was the more charming one. Art was sometimes in earlier, sometimes a little later, depending on what their project load looked like—it wasn’t that uncommon to see some of the art team members lingering past nine at night, though by the same token, members of the writing team did the same thing.

There was a reason for the vending machines and the coffee-shop grade espresso machine in their shared lounge.

All nighters were not an impossibility on the third floor, and Jason often found himself at the center of them.

“He need anything from art?” Zander asked, brow quirking again. “Or are we just conceptualizing still?”

“Well, as always we’re open to suggestions,” Jason said, crossing his arms. “But as a matter of fact, no, you’re not just conceptualizing still. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is designing carnivale-style gear for every world and armor type we’ve got in the game. That should keep all of you busy for a while.”

“Carnivale, huh?” One corner of Zander’s mouth quirked upward in a smile. “Do I want to ask what brought this one on?”

“I mean, you can,” Jason said with a grin of his own. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll tell you.”

“Ooh. We keeping something close to the vest this time?”

“For the moment,” he answered. “That’s probably going to be a Monday project, though, unless you want to send out an email blast now.”

“I’ll wait until Monday,” Zander said, nodding to Gayle. “She’s right, it’s too late to spring shit on people tonight.”

“Jason?”

Blinking at the unexpected voice, Jason twisted, peering at the elevator and the woman who’d just exited from it. Aroha Kanawa-Davis was one of their programmers, working under Brannon as a developer, and usually didn’t venture down to the art floors—unless they were meeting for lunch. They’d served together and after Aroha had mustered out, she’d come to work at GreySoft. At Jason’s insistence, they’d made a point of hiring as many veterans as they could when they could, and especially in the earliest days of the company, that had been possible more often than it wasn’t.

There was something about the look on her face that made his stomach lurch and he straightened from his lean, turning to fully face her. “What happened?”

“You remember Lilah Bowers, right?”

“Chopper pilot, yeah. Yeah, I remember her. What’s wrong? What happened?”

“She’s dead,” Aroha said quietly. “I just found out from Jamie in HR.”

It was like being gut-punched. “What happened?”

“They were flying transport missions over ISIS territory in eastern Syria,” Aroha said, lips thinning. “Missile brought them down.”

“Damn,” Jason breathed, sitting down heavily on the back of the couch again. Zander wheeled himself closer, putting a hand on his friend’s knee. “She was due for her out soon, wasn’t she?”

“Stop-loss was supposed to start next month,” Aroha said, then shook her head. “I keep thinking we got out at the right time.”

“For better or worse,” Zander agreed quietly, glancing at Jason. “You okay?”

Jason swallowed hard once, twice. He and Lilah hadn’t been close, but they’d had a few drinks together on nights off and he knew her well enough that the loss hurt. He managed to nod before asking, “What about her crew?”

“Killed. Some of the squad on board made it.” Aroha hesitated. Jason frowned.

“Say it,” he said, mouth tasting like cotton.

“Caela Daughtry,” Aroha said. “It was her squad.”

“Is she dead?”

Aroha shook her head hard. “No. They were able to evacuate her and the rest of her squad. She’ll recover, but they’re sending her home. She’s done. Medical discharge.”

“Jaime tell you that, too?” Jason asked, feeling dizzy for a moment, guts twisting. “How’d he find out?”

“His sister’s on the medical team that treated her,” Aroha said. “She passed the information along.”

Jason took a slow, deep breath, thoughts storming, swirling in a maelstrom he struggled to quell. “She was planning on acting, wasn’t she? When she got out?”

“Yeah,” Aroha said softly.

“Get her number,” Jason said, pushing himself to his feet. “Call her—or have Jamie call her, or whatever, I don’t care who does it. Tell her she’s got a job here if she wants it—as long as she thinks she can work for me, we have a spot for her here.”

Aroha’s eyes widened slightly. “Are—are you sure?”

“I said it,” Jason said, his voice abruptly gravelly. “That means I’m sure. Reach out. The worst she can say is no.”

Aroha’s lips thinned and she nodded. “If she asks what you want her to do?”

“Voice acting,” Jason said, not even having to think about it. “That’s what I want her to do. We’ve got some slots for the next story push and I want her filling one.”

“Then that’s what we’ll tell her. I’ll tell Jamie.”

Jason nodded. It wasn’t until Aroha was back on the elevator and out of sight that his shoulders slumped and his eyes began to sting. Zander squeezed his knee.

“Hey,” the former Ranger said quietly. “Hey. Buck up, man. There’s nothing you can do that you haven’t already done—not yet. Y’hear me?”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Jason nodded again. “I know,” he said, his voice steadier than he expected. “Trust me, I know. Doesn’t make this shit any easier.”

“No,” Zander agreed. “But it’s what we’ve got to deal with, right?”

“Yeah,” Jason said, then sighed, scrubbing a hand over his eyes and straightening. “Why don’t you guys knock off for the night? I’ll see you Monday morning.”

“You’ll see us earlier than that,” Gayle said with a faint smile. “There’s the thing tonight in game.”

Shit. Yeah, and I almost forgot. He managed to smile. “Right. Guess I will see you tonight.”

“You going to be okay?” Zander asked. “We could meet for beers or something tomorrow if you want to talk.”

“Maybe,” Jason said. “I’ll let you know. Like I said, though, call it a night, you two. Get home and get settled or whatever. I’ll see you tonight.”

Gayle came over and hugged Jason tightly. “You do the same thing—or whatever you and Peter were planning to do before Aroha came up here and told you what she just told you.”

“I will,” Jason promised, squeezing her tightly for a moment before letting go. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” she said with a faint smile as she stepped back. She clapped Zander on the shoulder as she turned to go. “I’ll catch you later, Z.”

He flashed her a peace sign and she laughed, heading back to the writers’ half of the floor. Zander studied Jason a few moments longer before he wheeled himself back to his desk.

“I meant it, Jason,” he said after a moment. “If you need something—”

“I’ll call,” Jason said. “I promise. Go on, get out of here.”

“Just going to finish this up, then I will. Catch you later.”

Jason just nodded as he gathered up his things, then headed for the elevator. Peter was going to want to know what was wrong when he got upstairs.

He wasn’t sure what we was going to tell his brother, but he’d figure it out somewhere along the way.

Seven

Elaine took one breath, then another, settling down into her desk chair and forcing herself to relax, reminding herself that she didn’t need to feel guilty about taking a night off from research—or two—to relax and actually have what could be construed as a life. Joslyn and Hadrian certainly seemed to think this qualified, so she would just have to take them at their word.

I can’t believe I said yes to this thing tonight. A faint sigh escaped her lips and she glanced at her VR headset, sitting on the desk next to her computer. She traced the upper curve of it with a fingertip and finally shook her head. Don’t dawdle or you won’t have a damn thing to wear.

Hadrian had needed to call it an early afternoon in the library that day, too, though not because of a promise to his wife—because of a text he’d gotten in the middle of digging through a source. The concerned look on his face had made an impression, etched itself into her memory. He’d excused himself for a moment after that, then returned about ten minutes later and started to pack up. When she asked what had happened, he’d just shaken his head.

“Is everything okay?” she’d asked. “The kids? Your wife?”

“They’re fine,” he’d told her. “It’s something else. I’ll see you Monday.”

And that had been that. He’d finished packing up and she’d watched him go, confused and not a little worried about what might have sparked his abrupt departure, but at the same time knowing that if it had been something she needed to know, he’d had said so. If it was something he was willing to talk about, he’d probably tell her all about it on Monday anyway.

It was early enough that Joslyn wasn’t home from work yet. While she’d agreed that she would go to whatever this ball was at Caius’s manor in the game that night, she wasn’t sure that she’d tag along with her friend to the gaming café for it. There was something more appealing about staying home—though she knew that Joslyn would just tell her that she was being silly and letting her overactive introvert tendencies win once again.

Still, there was something tempting about actually feeling the fabric of whatever dress she found to wear for the night.

Oh, who am I kidding? I am half giddy to do this. It’s not like I ever get to do something like this in real life, now is it?

Nor was it entirely likely that she ever would get the chance to do it in real life, unless she ended up doing some kind of living history with her degree—unlikely, but possible. Taking advantage of this opportunity was really the smartest option she had, for better or worse.

Besides, maybe it would be fun.

She glanced at the time—it would be at least an hour, maybe longer before Joslyn made it home. That was enough time to log in and find something to wear, then still enough time to change her clothes into something presentable in public to grab dinner before they went to the gaming café. Yoga pants and an old tee shirt didn’t seem like the right kind of attire for that, though she’d seen worse.

Elaine flipped on the computer and checked the connections on her VR headset and gloves before settling back in her chair. It only took a few minutes to get logged in and ready to go—for as little as she seemed to play lately, getting into the game was still like second nature, done by muscle memory and autopilot. She tugged on the gloves, settled the headset on her head, then took another deep breath.

“Okay,” she murmured to herself. Time to shop.”

She hit a key to log into the game, closing her eyes and counting to ten before opening them again. The faint sound of the city—muted on the outskirts—reached her ears as she sank into the game world. She was in her character’s townhome on the western edge of Coronet, near enough to the sea that on quiet nights she could hear the waves against the shore. Now, though, it was midafternoon and she would have to move quickly—or at least with more haste than usual—to find something for herself to wear tonight.

Joss is right. I need to check my mail more often.

She straightened her armor—she hadn’t bothered to change before she and Joslyn had logged out at the gaming café the night before—and adjusted her cloak before heading out, stepping out of the small antechamber and into the townhome’s foyer. Her actual holdings, miles away through the forests, were slightly more impressive—certainly larger—though she spent more time in Coronet than there lately, just because there were more people to roleplay with in the capital than out in the wilds. Joslyn had continually assured her that there were, in fact, plenty of people to roleplay with well beyond the city’s confines but Elaine remained unconvinced based on her own experiences.

The townhome itself was well-appointed, a three-storey building of wood and stone with a slate roof and a small garden in back. Inside, the rooms were neat, clean, though only sparsely decorated. She just hadn’t quite worked up the motivation to do that piece yet, though someday she intended to. What little decoration there was tended to reflect her character’s colors—rich wine-hued burgundy and deep blue. It wasn’t nearly as flashy as the Scarlet Dame, but there was something to be said for being more low-key—that was how she felt about it, in any case, and more importantly, it fit her.

A flutter of nervous excitement shot through her as she stepped outside, locking the door behind her and walking down the cobbled path from her front door to the street. I can’t believe I actually agreed to do this tonight. There’s probably going to be a ridiculous amount of people there and I’m going to feel so ridiculously out of my element it’s not even passably funny.

Elaine shook her head at herself as she set off down the street, heading for the tailor shops of the High Market, hoping she’d find something suitable. There was no reason to believe she wouldn’t, but every so often she found herself shocked at what she couldn’t get rather than what she could.

The streets of Coronet were relatively quiet, especially for the time of day. Part of her wondered if it was a byproduct of post-launch hype, driving everyone into the wilds to experience things differently—or anyone who could get to a gaming cafe to try it out—but it likely had more to do with it being earlier than usual login time on a Friday afternoon.

High Market was as quiet as the streets nearer to her townhouse, which came almost as a relief. Elaine paused at one edge of the roadway, studying signboards for a few moments, trying to decide which would be the best for her purposes. One, Mistress Margot’s, seemed the most likely candidate and with a deep breath and some steel willed into her spine, Elaine crossed the street toward the shop.

Bells hanging above the door jingled softly as Elaine stepped inside, peering around. Gowns of every shape and size hung around the shop’s interior or were draped over stress forms. Windows ran the length of the shop’s front wall except for where the door—itself with a large window of its own—allowed entry. The faint sound of a foot treadle sewing machine echoed softly from the back of the shop and along one full wall was a long counter with a display case full of accessories—tiaras, purses, jewelry, shoes, and more—and behind the counter, set into the wall, were racks upon racks of fabric, bolts tightly furled and organized by color and type.

“Be with you in a moment!” A voice called from the back of the shop. Elaine let the door fall slowly closed behind her, stepping deeper into the shop.

“Take your time,” she called back, though a bit faintly. Her gaze scanned over the racks and the mannequins, a faint furrow to her brow. There was just so much. How would she even know what was appropriate for the evening? The invitation had said formal attire suggested, but suggested usually meant just that—it was a suggestion, not mandatory. And how formal was formal, anyway?

Elaine chewed her lip, suddenly feeling more out of her depth than she had been when she’d interviewed for graduate school.

What the hell am I thinking? Why am I doing this to myself?

The temptation to turn on her heel and slip out before whoever was in the back appeared had almost won out when a small, plump woman with strawberry blonde hair gathered into a bun appeared from between racks and dress forms, beaming as she dried her hands on her skirt. “Welcome to Mistress Margot’s! What brings you in today?”

“I, uhm—” Elaine stammered, then started again. “I was invited to Lord Caius’s ball tonight. I know it’s terrible short notice, but I have nothing to wear and I’m in desperate need.”

The woman squinted at her for a moment, the look almost but not quite appraising. “You’re Lady Arenvale, aren’t you?”

Elaine nodded. “I am, yes.”

She beamed, clapping her hands together, clasping them. “Excellent! I couldn’t be certain but I suspected. You’ve never gone to one of these before, have you?”

“No,” Elaine said honestly. “I tend to be a little more…aloof, I suppose.”

“Mm, one after his lordship’s own heart then, I’m thinking,” the woman said, turning away and starting to search through the racks. “He has the same tendency, it seems.”

“Oh,” Elaine said, not knowing what else to day. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“What? Oh! That’s right, you’ve not been.” The woman glanced back, grinning. “Mistress Margot Perry at your service, m’lady. Don’t you worry about a thing. We’ll get you set to rights and ready for the evening’s festivities.”

Elaine watched the woman as she wended her way through the racks. “Thank you for the help,” she said, unable to keep the uncertainty from her voice. Margot turned back toward her and flashed a smile.

“Oh, think nothing of it. Honestly, in the gossip circles we’ve all been wondering when you’d finally accept an invitation to a society ‘do. The chance to get you out of that dusty armor and into something lovely is all the thanks I need.”

It was all she could do not to actually squirm. Instead, she fidgeted with a glove for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts before Margot noticed the awkward silence. “Well,” she finally managed. “I still appreciate it.”

“Of course, dear,” Margot said, turning back to grin at her again before she was intent on the task at hand again. “If you’d like, there’s a place to sit a little further back. Would you like something to drink? Let me get you something to drink.”

“I—” Elaine stopped, frowning slightly as she started to weave through racks and mannequins on her search for the promised seating. “Will this take long?”

“Oh, it could take a little bit. What’s your preference, dear? Wine, coffee, tea?”

“Coffee if it’s hot,” Elaine said, sinking down onto a small couch buried amidst racks of dresses in every color and shape. The array was almost bewildering. “Otherwise, don’t go to the trouble, please.”

“No trouble at all,” Margot said. “I have some hot, besides. It’s my poison of choice, too. Do you take cream and sugar?”

“Yes, please,” Elaine said, her voice a little faint as she watched Margot bustle toward the back of the shop. As unassuming as she seemed, the woman was some kind of force of nature. Her own heart was pounding in reaction to the woman’s excitement—excitement that Elaine had to admit she shared just a little bit.

I couldn’t have possibly been the only one who’s never been to one of these ‘society dos’ can I?

Her lips thinned and she stared at her gloved hands as she confronted the very real possibility that was actually the case.

Oh my god, even in a virtual world, I’m still the biggest introvert to ever breathe.

It wasn’t true, of course, but in that moment, it felt that way.

Margot was back with the coffee—complete with cream and sugar—in record time. Elaine took the cup from her with a smile.

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” Margot said, studying her as she took her first sip. Elaine tried not to squirm under the scrutiny.

“What is it?”

“Just thinking, dear,” Margot said, still looking her over with what Elaine suddenly realized was the trained eye of a seamstress and designer. She was trying to figure out what would fit her best. Finally, the dressmaker smiled. “I think I have just the thing. Burgundy and blue, yes?”

Elaine lowered her cup, nodding. “Yes.”

Margot smiled and vanished into the racks. Her voice drifted back to Elaine. “I think it will just fit you, too!”

Elaine canted her head to one side, peering through the sea of gowns, trying to track where Margot had disappeared to, but found herself unable to locate the dressmaker, already lost amidst a sea of silks and velvets and hand-sewn pearls. Her brow furrowed slightly and she took another sip of coffee. There was a little less cream than she usually liked, but the added bit of bitterness was welcome, bracing. Somehow, it felt like a little extra fortification she needed.

“I hope I’m not putting you out,” she called after Margot, cradling her mug between her hands.

“Oh, not at all,” Margot called back from somewhere to her left. Her voice was muffled, as if it came from far away—or perhaps the amount of fabric in the room caused that effect. Elaine couldn’t be sure. “Doing this gives me joy, m’lady, truly. I love to make beautiful things and seeing people in them is perhaps the greatest bit of satisfaction I could ever ask for.”

“Oh,” Elaine said lamely. “Okay.” She gulped down some more coffee, hoping her blush would fade before Margot reappeared.

Hope of that dwindled as she heard the seamstress make a triumphant noise from somewhere among the gowns.

Sounds like she found whatever she was looking for. Elaine shifted uncomfortably on the couch, peering once again through the racks, hoping to catch a glimpse of Margot. She couldn’t.

“Here we are!”

Elaine jumped at the sound of Margot’s voice, coming from her right rather than her left. Heart racing at twice normal speed, she turned to look.

Her heart missed a beat and her eyes widened, fingers clutching at the ceramic of her cup a little tighter as she caught a glimpse of the gown Margot held up for her inspection. It sparkled in the sunlight streaming in through the shop’s front windows, copper beadwork catching and reflecting the light. The gown itself was silk, shimmering from burgundy to blue and back again depending on how the light hit it. It was hard to tell its actual shape beyond ball gown just hanging on the hanger, but Elaine’s breath caught as she studied it.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I think you’re right.”

“Come on, then,” Margot said, still beaming with pride. “Let’s get you into it so I can make any adjustments it might need before tonight. You’ll likely need gloves, too, and some jewelry—we can get you set up with that, too.”

“Okay,” Elaine agreed, feeling dazed.

For the first time, she felt like maybe she wouldn’t regret tonight—not at all.

Six

It was an hour before Peter finally appeared, stepping off the elevator looking tired, but otherwise all right. Brannon had already headed downstairs to check in with the programming team, but Jason was still standing where he’d been since they’d come up, watching the gameplay screens with arms crossed, half lost in his thoughts. He didn’t even look over at the sound of the elevator, expecting Brannon, not his brother—and he wouldn’t have realized Peter had arrived if he hadn’t clapped him on the shoulder on his way to his office.

“C’mon,” Peter said quietly. “Let’s talk.”

There was something strange in Peter’s tone that sent ice sluicing down Jason’s spine, but he nodded and turned to follow. His brother crossed the room in a few quick strides, as if nothing was out of the ordinary, swinging his office door open and stepping inside.

That was when his demeanor changed. Peter’s stride slowed, though almost imperceptibly, and his shoulders slumped slightly. He collapsed not into his desk chair but the softer one in the corner of his office, the one where Jason had more than once found him asleep with a book or his VR headset still on, the game still running. Jason closed the door slowly behind them and locked it, watching as Peter tilted his head back and turned it to the side, staring out the window at the forest and fields beyond.

Jason’s mouth was dry as he opened it to speak, but Peter cut him off before he could.

“I watched the broadcast,” he said. “You were great.”

“You said I would be,” Jason murmured, sitting down on the couch along the wall next to the door, leaning forward and resting his elbows against his knees. “You knew I would be.”

Peter shrugged slightly. “I believed it, anyway, and I was right.”

Jason had to smile. “I’m glad you had that kind of faith in me.”

“I’d be a shit brother if I didn’t,” Peter said.

He lapsed into silence. Jason shifted slightly on the couch, unease starting to build. Was this all he wanted to talk about? How the broadcast went? The launch? “Peter—”

“Did it go well?”

Jason grimaced at the interruption, but quickly nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, everything according to plan, like clockwork. You were right—again. At some point, I think you’re going to get tired of that.”

“You’re probably right,” Peter said, then sighed. He scrubbed a hand over his face and finally met Jason’s gaze. “Greenbriar didn’t find anything. He asked if I was sleeping and I looked at him like he was crazy. I told him I was twenty-six and the company that I founded was launching new features to a game that I did lead design and programming on and how much sleep did he think I was getting? He told me it’s probably nothing and to get some more sleep.”

“That’s it?” Jason’s stomach knotted. It didn’t feel right, and the look of disgust on Peter’s face told him that his brother felt the same way.

“He gave me some anti-seizure meds and told me not to drive.” Peter’s nose wrinkled. “I don’t know, Jason. I want him to be right and this was just my fucked-up brain spazzing out because I’m not sleeping enough but I don’t know. What does it say about me that I think this is worse but want to be wrong? That I suspect I’m about to live through some kind of hell again?”

“I would say it’s an improvement,” Jason said quietly. “Last time this cropped up you were pretty sure you were going to die through that hell again.”

Peter winced but didn’t argue. That had been the way he’d acted the last time his neurological condition had flared up. “I guess there’s that,” he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut. “I hope he’s right.”

“Trust but watch,” Jason said, his voice heavy. “Right?”

Peter nodded. “Trust but watch. Something we have a shit-ton of experience with.” He rubbed at his temple and sat up in his chair, looking at Jason squarely. “It really has been going well?” he asked quietly. “The launch, everything? You’re not just—”

“That is the last thing I’d lie about,” Jason said. “Unless something went sideways downstairs since Brannon left me up here, it’s been going well.” He glanced down for a second, then smiled. “I caught a glimpse of her while we were scrolling through feeds.”

Peter watched him, brow arching slightly. “Your Scarlet Dame?”

“Is that what you call her when I’m not around?”

One corner of Peter’s mouth lifted in a smile. “Well, that is who she is, Jason.”

“She’s more than that.”

“I know,” Peter said, still smiling. There was warmth there, brotherly teasing wrapped in concern and affection. “If I didn’t know better I’d guess maybe you were getting serious.”

“Maybe eventually,” Jason murmured, then smiled. “Right now she’s just someone I like talking to about anything that might or might not matter.” His cheeks were warm; he was probably blushing and found himself oddly unashamed to be doing it.

“What’s holding you back?” Peter asked, relaxing in his chair again. “There must be something.”

Jason shrugged. “I don’t know. She doesn’t know much about—well. She doesn’t know about this.”

“This being?”

Jason waved a hand at the room, hoping that the gesture explained everything. “You know, this.”

Peter’s brow arched. “You mean about the company? About where you fall in all of it?”

Jason nodded. “She has no idea. I never talk about any of this, not really, and when I do it’s always oblique. She knows I’m an artist and a writer but she doesn’t know what exactly I do or where I do it.”

“What about her?”

“What do you mean?”

“What does she do?”

“She’s a graphic designer,” Jason said. “Does a lot of work for advertising firms in her area and a bunch of pro bono work for charities and stuff.

“Sounds like you guys get each other on a pretty basic level.” Peter’s voice was quiet, gentle, thoughtful. Jason watched him for a few seconds, staring as his brother turned to look out the window again.

“What’s wrong, Peter?”

“All of this is for you guys,” he said softly. “For your futures.”

“And yours,” Jason said, forcing his heart out of his throat. “This is your future, too.”

The response took a second too long to come. “Yeah,” Peter said softly. “Yeah, it is.”

Then he stood up and grinned at his brother. “Well. You want to head in? I know you were waiting on me.”

Jason’s smile was bleak, reflecting the sudden pain that had wrapped around his heart and squeezed. “Am I that transparent?”

“Not transparent, just predictable,” Peter said, clapping him on the shoulder on his way to the door. “C’mon. We built something beautiful. Let’s enjoy it.”

“Right,” Jason said, standing and moving to follow. “Hey.”

Peter paused, glancing back, hand on the doorknob. “What?”

“Is tomorrow night still on?”

Peter grinned. “Nothing would stop me from making that happen, Jason. Nothing.”

He twisted the knob and stepped out of the office. Schooling his expression to hide any lingering traces of worry, Jason followed him.

It might be nothing—Dr. Greenbriar could be right. He’s been taking care of Peter for a long time. He must be right. It’s got to be nothing—at least this time, it’s nothing.

Still, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in his gut that something was starting to go very, very wrong and it had nothing to do with the game.

Sorry about not posting this sooner!  I’m writing chapter 8 at the moment, so tonight you’ll get a few more chapters out of me.

  

Five

“This is incredible,” Joslyn said, stopping in a clearing in the woods a little way out from the outskirts of Coronet. She turned slowly in a circle, face tilted toward the sky. Her avatar was dressed in her usual attire—dark brown leather armor, high boots, a sword at one hip and a long, scarlet mantle draped around her. This was the Scarlet Dame, Calia Freydin, Lady of Grovesong Keep, known throughout Elfaedil as one of its leading nobles.

That had been part of the deal, something that backers had the option to do as part of the crowdfunding campaign—become part of the story, become one of the leaders of a particular providence or nation-state or megacorp depending on which world you were based on. Of course, you had to perform well enough to keep it, had to be behaved enough to maintain it, and you had to be good enough to fend off anyone looking to supplant you.

It could get a little cutthroat in that regard.

“It feels real,” Elaine said, hugging herself as she looked around. It even smelled real, with the scent of pine and woodsmoke and the distant tang of the sea. She could almost taste it. She could feel the weight of her armor, the tug of the cloak she wore against her shoulders and chest. The breeze was chill, though not enough so that it gave her goosebumps—those were coming from the reality of this experience.

They really did deliver on what they promised.

“It does,” Joslyn agreed, still grinning. “So incredible. I can’t believe it.”

“I can,” Elaine said softly. “They said they’d do it and they did. These guys haven’t disappointed yet.”

“I know,” Joslyn said, nose wrinkling. “I’m kind of waiting for the inevitable let-down.”

“Maybe there won’t be one,” Elaine said, shucking off one of her gloves to brush her fingertips along leaves and branches. The detail was exquisite. “Maybe this is just how it’s going to be.”

“Maybe,” Joslyn said, then shrugged. “We can hope, anyway.”

“Absolutely.” Elaine smiled, shifting her shoulders so her staff rested a little more comfortably against her spine. Idly, she wondered if she would be sore later—if they would both be sore later, even though their bodies hadn’t actually done the work of wearing and carrying their gear. If they got hurt in a fight, would there be bruises in real life?

I doubt it. They must have tested for that. This never would have launched if there were safety concerns at that level.

Right?

Joslyn turned back toward the city again, peering through the trees toward Coronet. “How long do you think before it’s available outside of gaming cafes?”

Elaine quirked a brow, crossing her arms again. “Probably never. They seem pretty heavy-duty.”

Joslyn shrugged. “You could be right.” She glanced back toward Elaine. “You ready to go back?”

“Back to the city?” Elaine arched a brow. “Sure. There a particular reason we’re going to head back so fast, though? You don’t want to see what we can tangle with out here and the consequences might be?”

Joslyn snorted a laugh. “Maybe not the first time out, especially if it’s just the two of us.”

Elaine grinned. “What, you don’t have confidence in my magical abilities?”

“Let’s just say I’d feel better with a second blade at our backs,” Joslyn said, shooting her a sly smile. Elaine’s own smile grew.

“Oh,” she said. “You want Ascalon to be along for that ride.”

Joslyn’s cheeks flamed and Elaine laughed.

“I don’t blame you,” Elaine said. “I think I’d want the same thing if I were you.”

“Well, that’s reassuring. Guess I haven’t turned into some kind of total hopeless case.”

“You, a hopeless case?” Elaine shook her head. “Never. Come on. If you want to go back, let’s go back.” She turned, heading for the edge of the clearing, finding the deer trail they’d followed to get to where they’d been standing. Joslyn jogged the couple steps it took to catch up to her, the pair falling into step as they started down the track, moving along it back toward the city.

“I wonder if the food will taste real,” Joslyn mused as they walked. “That could be an interesting experience, right?”

Elaine shrugged. “It could be. All of this might be enough to get me to check out other worlds.”

“You barely have time for this one,” Joslyn observed. Elaine inclined her head.

“True story, but there’s a such thing as making time—as you so commonly like to remind me.” Elaine hip-checked her gently and Joslyn laughed, returning the gesture. Elaine stumbled a few steps off the path, laughing as she stepped back up onto it again.

“Well, I would be lying if I said I didn’t think it’d be good for you. You spend way too much time in books and in your own head and you need to remember that there’s more to life than your school work. There’s got to be some kind of balance, grad school or not, Ph.D candidacy or not.”

“You’re right,” Elaine admitted. “You’re right. I’ve always figured that once I got through all of it, maybe then I’d be able to relax. But you’re right, if I don’t do it now, I’m going to forget and honestly, what kind of life is that? I can’t forget how to live.”

“You have no idea what a relief it is to hear those words.” Joslyn’s voice grew quieter as they got closer to the edge of the city. “There’s a ball tomorrow at Lord Caius’s keep,” she said. “You should come.”

Elaine’s brow quirked. “That’s oddly well-timed.”

Joslyn shrugged. “I have no explanations. Ascalon asked me if I’d come with him.” She leaned into Elaine’s ear. “We could come back, do the immersion thing again. It could be fun?”

“I don’t know,” Elaine hedged. “I mean, I’ve never really met Lord Caius, just seen him. And then there’s the matter of lacking an invitation.”

“If you ever checked your mail, I’m sure you’d find one,” Joslyn said archly, smirking. “Come on. Half the realm is invited. You should come. You’re a lady of the realm. It’s practically expected.”

The lines were blurring between their out of character and in character conversations, but that was for the best as they drew closer to the edge of Coronet. Verbal communications were expected to be in character in public areas of cities, with out of character chatter limited to subchannels and private spaces—or out in the wild, as long as no one else was around to overhear, or overhear much. But in the cities, immersion was the rule, and despite the occasional inconvenience, Elaine could appreciate the dedication of both the game designers and the players.

It was fun to be someone else for a while.

“Expected, huh?” Elaine sighed, staring up at the canopy of tree branches above them, at the foliage that was just starting to show the faintest glimmers of autumn. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask,” Joslyn said, grinning. She twined her arm through Elaine’s. “Come on. Let’s go see if the food at the tavern is as good as it looks.”

“Or as bad as it looks,” Elaine muttered.

Joslyn laughed and dragged her onward, Elaine only too happy to tag along. She could only hope that she was pleasantly surprised—with both the food at the tavern and what decision she made about the invitation to a ball.

Only one way to find out exactly how it all shakes out, I guess.

She wouldn’t tell Joslyn, though, not yet—that way, there would be room to change her mind if she somehow lost her nerve.

There was a small part of her that hoped she wouldn’t. Who knew? Maybe it would be fun.

Either that, or it would be some kind of disaster. In either case, she’d find out tomorrow.

One way or another.

Four

“With that said, let me join my brother Peter in thanking all of you for your support over the past two years, from our crowdfunding campaign to today’s launch. We and everyone here at GreySoft look forward to exploring the stories buried in Universe with you for years to come.”

Mouth dry but smile still full-wattage, Jason reached over to a switch on the control board. It was mostly for show, of course, for dramatic effect—all of the back-end coding was ready and loaded, it just hadn’t been switched on yet.

That was what the switch was for—the switch and a dozen software engineers upstairs, watching the broadcast and ready to jump into action at the slightest sign of a hiccup in the Universe engine or servers.

After a moment’s hesitation, Jason flicked the switch, turning back to the cameras with a smile that was a little more sad than it had been a moment before—he couldn’t help it. Really, it was all he could do to keep his voice steady. “Welcome to the full-immersion Universe experience. May the road rise up to meet you and all of your adventures be fulfilling ones.”

The director motioned beyond the lights and the cameras, just barely in his range of vision. The lights went dark.

“We’re clear,” the director said, then turned to start talking to the production crew.

Jason sighed and slumped into a chair, leaning forward and scrubbing his hands over his face. He took one breath, then another, willing his eyes to stop stinging, fighting to master himself before anyone could notice.

“Well done.”

He glanced up at the sound of Brannon’s unmistakable brogue and smiled. “You think so?”

Brannon Marsden, his brother-in-law and the last of the quartet that stood at the heart of GreySoft’s foundations, nodded, leaning against the boards and server racks that ran the length of the wall that had been Jason’s backdrop for the broadcast. “I do. Better than I could have done. Peter’s going to be pleased.”

Jason blew out a quiet breath, his voice low. “It should’ve been him.”

“It should have been,” Brannon agreed, his voice quiet, so they wouldn’t be overheard. “But it didn’t work out that way. Stream numbers looked good—a lot of YouTube and Twitch traffic. We’ll see how the numbers look in a few days.”

“Subs or replays?”

Brannon smiled crookedly. “Both.” He extended a hand and Jason took it, letting his brother-in-law pull him out of the chair and upright. “It’s about both, right?”

Jason smiled faintly and shrugged. “Maybe.” He dug his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans, thumbed the screen on. No new messages.

Brannon’s smile shrunk. “I’m sure it’s okay.”

“Yeah.” Jason took a deep breath, stretching until his back cracked. “You’re right. C’mon, let’s get upstairs to the office. Curious to see what’s what now that systems are up.”

The smile returned. “Going to log in yourself?”

“Later,” Jason said. As much as he loved what they’d built, it didn’t feel right to log in while they were still waiting to hear from Peter about how bad his situation might be. “Might wait to jump in when Peter’s ready to log in.”

The production crew was packing up most of their equipment and Jason and Brannon left them behind, heading down a hallway toward the elevators up. The third floor corridor’s right hand wall was dominated by floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking carefully tended trees that gave way to managed forest beyond. Jason’s pace slowed for a moment as he stared out at those trees, at that forest, taking in the blaze of autumn colors, not quite yet at their peak for the season. His throat got tight for reasons he couldn’t quite articulate and he drifted toward the window, just staring.

Brannon stayed quiet, watching, leaning against the gray-painted left-hand wall, just watching.

“How long do you think they’ll stay in the trees?” Jason asked softly.

“Huh?”

“The leaves,” he said. “How long do you think they’ll stick around?”

Brannon straightened, moving to join Jason at the window. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “Guess it depends on how much rain we get and any wind. That side’s pretty sheltered. Could stick around for a long time. Maybe even until we see the first snow.”

“It’d be nice,” Jason said, then shook his head. “I don’t think they’ll make it that long, though.”

“Storms?”

“They always come,” he said. “And the leaves are always gone well before the snow flies.” He glanced toward Brannon. “Did Peter ever tell you why he liked this spot better than anywhere you guys looked at for headquarters?”

Brannon shook his head. “No, but I never asked, either. It didn’t matter. I liked it well enough and it’s near enough to things that Marissa doesn’t feel trapped and there’s options for schools when we’re ready to send Wynter.”

“It mattered to him,” Jason said, watching the wind ruffle distant branches. “It reminded him of where we grew up.” Happier times, the places we escaped to, where we pretended everything was fine and nothing would go wrong. It reminded him of days by the lake, afternoons in the woods, autumn bonfires and summer farmer’s markets, of artificial simplicity that we still cling to because it’s easier than remembering the parts the sucked, the parts that hurt more than we’re willing to admit.

“Oh,” Brannon said, his voice quiet. He, too, watched the wind in the trees, then sighed, reaching to squeeze Jason’s shoulder. “Do you want me to lie?”

“It might be easier,” Jason whispered. “It could be easier on all of us if you did.”

“Marissa didn’t ask how he looked when I picked him up,” Brannon said, then glanced up and down the corridor to make sure they were alone. “I don’t think she wanted to know.”

“There’s a lot of things that we don’t want to face, Brannon. Peter’s fragility is one of them.” We fooled ourselves into thinking that everything was going to be okay from here on out. It’s been years since anything went sideways, years since a whisper of anything wrong. Now this—this, now, when all of us should be at our highest.

We’re right back to where we were when I was seven and this hit him again and Mom and Dad stopped worrying about Rissa and I and their whole world was nothing but Peter. Jason’s eyes began to sting again but he blinked away the tears. No one was more angry at their parents for that than Peter was—the resentment and anger and hurt had even faded to a dull ache for Jason, who’d suffered the worst of their neglect, one year younger than his genius brother whose health always seemed to teeter on a razor’s edge.

“Peter is one of the strongest people I’ve ever met, Jason,” Brannon said, his voice gentle. It wasn’t as if Jason had never heard those words before, but something about them this time made his throat tighten uncomfortably, as if his heart and his gut knew something the rest of him didn’t—or didn’t want to accept. “It’ll be all right, no matter what. You know him.”

“Yeah,” Jason said, looking down. “Yeah, I do.” He knew that his brother would worry more about taking care of everyone else than taking care of himself. It made him ache to think of it, but was a reality he’d lived with since childhood. His older brother never asked for much beyond what he thought would benefit all of them. Jason had always thought it had something to do with the way their parents had always been more concerned with Peter rather than the rest of them, something that he suspected his brother had always secretly felt guilty about. It had never really mattered to Jason—as long as he had his brother and sister, that was all he needed. Brannon had come as an added bonus when Marissa had brought him home from school one Christmas and introduced him—by then, he and Peter had been legally emancipated from their parents and were living on their own, together, Peter already racing through college coursework and Jason finishing high school, already decided on a stint in the service after graduation. Four years later had come baby Wynter, and she’d seemed like a miracle to both Jason and Peter, a tiny, fragile piece of their sister and Brannon, and suddenly, it was the five of them, not the four.

His phone buzzed in his back pocket and Jason shivered, exhaling a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “It’s probably Peter,” he murmured as he dug around for the phone.

Brannon squeezed his shoulder. “Likely. Let me know if he wants me to come pick him up.”

Jason shook his head. “I can do it. They’ll need you here more than they’ll need me if something starts to slip sideways.”

“Eh,” Brannon said as he started walking down the hall. “Half of them still can’t understand me when I speak anyway. I think it’s the language barrier.”

“Language barrier?” Jason blurted, his attention dragged away from his phone a moment before he could register the words on the screen. “You’re speaking English. So are they.”

Brannon shrugged. “Must be the accent and the bloody slang.” He shot John a cheeky grin over his shoulder and continued on toward the elevator.

Jason sighed and shook his head. “Bastard,” he muttered, then glanced down at his phone. The words glowed white against the blue starscape background.

Home safe. Will be in soon. Good job.

Jason slumped against the windows for a second, worry-tinged relief washing through him, leaving knees momentarily weak. He took a slow, deep breath and forced himself upright again, starting to walk toward the elevator even as he texted his brother back.

Thanks. Be safe.

He got an emoticon in the shape of a thumbs-up as a response.

Some of the weight he’d felt tugging at his shoulders lifted away as he put his phone back into his pocket and stepped into the elevator—Brannon had held it for him and watched him now with an arched brow.

“He’s home,” Jason said simply as the doors slid shut. He leaned against the back wall of the elevator. “Said he’d be in soon.”

“Doesn’t need a ride, then,” Brannon said, tucking his hands into his pockets. “That’s probably a good sign.”

“Maybe.” Jason shrugged. “Could mean any number of things, but his neurologist didn’t keep him, so that’s something.” Last time Peter’s condition had flared up, his neurologist had immediately admitted him to the hospital downtown. That had been just before Wynter was born, three and a half years ago. “You know him, though. He’ll probably walk here.”

Brannon grinned. “Yeah, probably.”

Jason tilted his head back, closing his eyes as the elevator carried them upwards. “You were worried about what he looked like, though.”

“Well, I’ve seen him look worse,” Brannon said. “Don’t hop back on that worry train just as quickly as you’ve gotten out of it, Jason. Seriously, leave it alone. If there’s something we need to worry about, Peter will tell us as much. Until then, let’s just be happy that everything seems to be going well with the launch and let’s enjoy that we’ve done it. We delivered on what we promised when we jumped into this.”

Jason had to smile, the spirits that had begun to sag suddenly buoyed again. “You’re right,” he murmured. “We did it.” He thought about two nights before, the three AM conversation with Scarlet in the game, at her hold in Elfaedil. They’d stepped out of character after a particularly intense roleplaying session with a few other players and retreated to her sanctum, talking about work and life and how she was worried her roommate was getting too wrapped up in things that maybe didn’t matter as much as she thought they did and forgetting to have fun. Jason had just let her talk because he liked it when she did, he liked hearing about her life and what was happening in it, he liked having her to talk to when he needed someone to vent to, when he needed someone to share just about anything with. He wasn’t sure what that meant but figured eventually he’d figure it out.

She’d mentioned that she was going to the launch today. He’d said something stupid and inane in response and part of him still wondered why he hadn’t told her that he’d find her later in game, after the initial excitement and any kinks had been worked out. It was dumb and he’d wished that he’d thought about it then.

The elevator stopped and he startled. Brannon was grinning at him.

Jason’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that look for?”

“You should see your face,” Brannon said, still grinning, then stepped out of the elevator. “You’re off somewhere right now.”

Jason snorted softly. “If you say so.”

They walked out into the open expanse of GreySoft’s top floor, seven storeys up, commanding a view of the managed forestland to the west and south, farmer’s fields to the north, and the sprawl of the nearest city to the east. Windows ran the length of all four exterior walls, only a few partitions set up inside aside from a large square in the center of the building that housed things like the elevators, restrooms, an experimental gaming suite, and a conference room. In the northwest corner was Peter’s office, partitioned off from the rest of the space. Brannon’s was downstairs, on the sixth floor, and Jason was more likely to kick back on one of the couches up here on the seventh floor with his tablet or his sketchpad, or to start plastering the walls of the conference room or the central column with huge sheets of paper and hand-drawn storyboards. He wasn’t even sure if he had an office anymore, or if they’d converted it into something else since he never seemed to use it.

A few of the senior techs were scattered among the desks, monitoring server statuses and killing bugs as soon as they cropped up. A cluster of three stood around a fourth and Jason arched a brow at the sight. Next to him, Brannon shook his head.

“Can’t be anything that serious,” he murmured. “No one called me.”

Their senior gamemasters were clustered in the southeast corner, some kicked back on the couches with their feet up on the square coffee table between them, others at the long desks along the windows, each immersed in their work—or perhaps just in the game. Sometimes, it was hard to tell, and in truth, the game’s community was more self-policing than any of them cared to admit—but were secretly proud of. There was certain hot spots, certain worlds that were more troublesome than others, but for the most part the game’s population was well-behaved and the problems that cropped up were minimal based on the comparisons they’d run with other massively multiplayer games. Jason watched them for a moment, nodding absently in response to Brannon.

“Seems pretty quiet.”

Brannon nodded, gaze wandering before he wandered over to the coffee table, snagging a remote to turn on one of the monitors, tapping a few buttons and scrolling through realms until he finally settled on the first one they conceptualized, the heart of everything he and Jason and Peter had ever put together for the game. Triskelion had been the first, and while each of them worked hard to give equal attention to all of the worlds they’d developed for the game, each of them would admit that Triskelion remained the nearest and dearest to their hearts.

“Everything seems like it’s going according to plan, though,” Brannon said as he watched the screens, the camera tracking one of the senior gamemasters in his wanderings through the forests in Elfaedil. Teasing glimpses of Coronet, the province’s principal city, flashed between the trees. As Brannon turned up the volume, they could hear the faint sound of spacecraft soaring overhead of the gamemaster they were tracking, likely headed either for the port on the far side of Coronet or perhaps one of the ones on the outskirts of Elfaedil. Brannon glanced sidelong at Jason, brow quirking. “What do you think this is going to do with the player base, with what they’re playing? Think we’re going to see a shift?”

“Maybe,” Jason said, pursing his lips. “Might see an increase in cross-genre and some more travel between worlds, just so folks can experience something a little different. Not sure if we’ll see a lot of rerolls or additional characters, but we’ll see what happens there. Depends on how compelling we’ve managed to make everything else.”

“The story team’s been on their game,” Brannon murmured. “So has the art team.”

Jason inclined his head. He appreciated the compliment to both of his teams and would likely pass the information along to them when he headed down to the fourth and fifth floors later to check in with them. It was only a matter of time before he headed down to do that—but probably not before his brother made it into the office. “We’ll see what the base decides.”

Brannon nodded, studying him sidelong for a second as Jason watched the screen. “You’re distracted,” he observed.

Jason shrugged and Brannon continued.

“You’re distracted but it’s not because of what we were talking about downstairs. It’s something else.”

That made him startle a little, glancing at his brother-in-law with brow furrowed and jaw slack. “Huh?”

Brannon smiled and shook his head. “Just what I said. Whatever it is, I hope it’s a good thing.”

Jason blinked at him, then caught sight of a flash of red out of the corner of his eye. A figure had just moved across the screen, dressed in a familiar red cloak. The gamemaster they followed tracked the figure for a few seconds, watching her as she crossed the path and plunged deeper into the woods, a smaller figure in a gray cloak trailing her.

Jason smiled.

“Maybe it is,” he murmured, gazing at the screen. “I guess we’ll see.”

 Three

“What the hell am I supposed to wear to this?” Elaine asked aloud, rummaging through her closet, cursing under her breath as she dug around. Her best friend lounged on the bed, playing with her phone and waiting for her.

“Normal clothes?” Joslyn Ballard suggested, glancing up. She was dressed in skinny jeans and a long sweater, dark hair swept up into an artfully messy bun. “It’s a launch, not a cocktail party.”

“I just—” she stopped, turning toward Joslyn. “Am I overthinking this? Am I somehow confusing this for ComiCon or something random like that?”

Joslyn stared at her for a moment, then nodded once. “Yes.”

Elaine stared back for a moment, then bobbed her head. “Kay. Jeans and a jacket it is.”

“Are you suddenly worried about geek street cred or something else?” Joslyn asked as she glanced back to her phone again. “Because trust me, if any gamer boy even starts to question that I’m pretty sure that between the two of us we can knock him on his proverbial ass. Hell, you can do that on your own. You don’t need me for that.”

“No,” Elaine said, feeling her stomach twist uncomfortably.  “No, that’s not it.” It was, of course, part of it and both of them knew it. She whipped off the shirt she’d been wearing, exchanging it for a cami with a hint of sparkle, then started hunting around for a particular jacket that was probably buried in some forgotten corner of her closet. “I just—this isn’t something I do.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.” Joslyn glanced up from her phone again. “This is new for pretty much everyone. No one’s done this before—not at this level. That’s what makes it so special.”

“Do you think it’ll work the way they promised in the pitch video?” Elaine asked, making a quiet sound of triumph as she found the jacket she’d been looking for. She shrugged into it, stepping out into her bedroom and regarding her friend with a curious look. “Will it really feel real?”

Joslyn shrugged, pushing herself into a sitting position and tossing her phone onto the bed beside her. “I don’t know. I know what I’ve read in all of the game mags and it sounds like maybe it will but they’ve kept everything so damn close to the vest no one knows for sure. I don’t even know how they did it—how they’ve managed to pull off that level of secrecy. It’s mind-blowing. It shouldn’t be possible and somehow they pulled it off.”

“How many rigs are there at the café, do we know?” Elaine moved to the full-length mirror in the corner of her room, straightening her jacket slightly before she went hunting for socks that would be appropriate with her ballet flats.

“Not sure,” Joslyn said, getting up to check her hair once Elaine vacated the space in front of the mirror. “There’s only been speculation about it. Still, launch day? Place is reserved for backers and I can’t imagine there’ll be that many around here that donated enough to get passes for today.”

“You’re probably right,” Elaine said, tugging on her socks. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”

“Because that’s how you get when you’re about to try a new thing. Always been that way, Laney. That’s why you keep me around, to tell you to relax and try to enjoy yourself.”

Elaine laughed. “I keep you around for more than just that.”

“Oh, well, yeah. There’s also pushing you out of your comfort zone and telling you that everything’s going to be okay.” Joslyn grinned. “You ready?”

“As long as my hair looks okay.”

Joslyn reached up to adjust something, then nodded. “You look great—not that anyone’s going to be looking at us.”

“Probably not,” Elaine agreed. “But it doesn’t hurt to double check, right?”

“Right.” Joslyn threw an arm around her shoulders as they headed out into the hall and downstairs to their living room. “Drive together or separate?”

“Might as well save the gas,” Elaine said. “You want to drive, or should I?”

“I’ll drive,” Joslyn said, unwrapping her arm from around Elaine’s shoulders so she could snag her keys and purse from where she’d tossed them on the kitchen table. “You okay?”

Elaine nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just nervous.”

“I’d be a little worried about you if you weren’t, to be honest. It wouldn’t be like you.” Joslyn grabbed her leather jacket from a peg hanging near the front door, shrugging into it on her way out of their townhouse and into the chill mid-October air. “I was worried you weren’t going to come.”

“Hadrian had to talk me into it,” Elaine admitted as she locked the front door and followed Joslyn out toward the car. She glanced up at the gray sky. The air was thick with damp and the scent of threatening rain. She sighed, glancing back toward the townhouse, then shook her head at herself. An umbrella would just be one more thing to worry about carrying beyond her purse, phone, and keys—and keeping track of those three things would likely be more than enough to handle. “I was set to stick around in the library with him and do research.”

“And he rescued you from that? I think he might be my hero,” Joslyn said, her tone only mildly teasing. Elaine gave her a mock glare over the roof of the car and Joslyn just grinned, sliding into the driver’s seat.

“Cute,” Elaine said as she got in on the passenger side and slammed the door. Joslyn sighed, shaking her head as she buckled up and started the engine.

“Relax. I was just teasing.”

“I know,” Elaine said, staring at the ceiling for a moment. Joslyn watched her for a few seconds more, chewing her lower lip—Elaine could see her in the rearview mirror.

“I know it’s not the happiest day for you—” Joslyn began. Elaine interrupted her.

“That’s why I’m going,” she said. “That’s why I’m obsessing and trying to think about everything and anything other than that. Hadrian’s right. I need to find ways to make the hard days happier.”

“It’s only been a few years,” Joslyn said gently. “It’s okay to still hurt.”

“Yeah,” Elaine said. “But it’s not okay to dwell and to live in the past and if I keep letting losing them rip me up, that’s all I ever do. I need to figure it out.”

“We’ll be here,” Joslyn said, watching her. “You know that, right? I will be and I’m willing to bet Hadrian will be, too.”

“I don’t think you’re wrong,” Elaine said softly, then smiled. “Come on. We’d better get going or we’ll never find a decent parking spot and then we’ll be late and I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to miss a second of this thing today.”

Joslyn grinned and grasped her shoulder, giving her a little shake and a squeeze before she got both hands on the steering wheel and pulled out of the parking spot. “Good,” she said firmly. “Good.”

Elaine laughed and relaxed. Joslyn turned on the radio as they cruised out of the parking lot, heading toward one of the major area thoroughfares. Either way, parking would be utter hell at the mall, but at least they were on their way early enough that it shouldn’t matter one way or the other.

Somehow, she was going to make sure this was a good day.

GreySoft’s gaming café was on the top floor of the three-floor mall, tucked down one of the side wings a few storefronts down from one of the anchors. It was nestled between a high-end outdoor apparel store and the standard ubiquitous accessory store and took up much more space than Elaine had expected when she’d first heard about the company’s ambitious plan when she’d backed the Universe project—two years ago, now. The immersion rigs—what they could see of them from the entrance, anyway—didn’t look like anything that impressive, just semi-reclined chairs with headsets and gloves not so different from the headsets she and Joslyn had at home.

Elaine glanced sidelong at her friend. Joslyn looked back and shrugged slightly, her thoughts probably paralleling the ones going through Elaine’s head.

It’s a lot of hype for what doesn’t seem like much. Maybe they’ll surprise us, though. Elaine checked her watch. Twenty minutes. Joslyn took her by the hand and tugged her toward the GreySoft employee manning the door, scanning phones and playing gatekeeper. A soft curse dropped from Elaine’s lips as she dug her phone out and started searching for the email with her QR coded pass for the event.

“I should have reminded you in the car,” Joslyn said, letting go of Elaine’s hand. She slowed only slightly as she beeline for the gatekeeper.

“It’s fine,” Elaine said, finally finding the appropriate message. “I’ve got it.”

“Good,” Joslyn said, then grinned over her shoulder as the employee scanned her phone. Elaine came next, holding her smartphone out toward him. He scanned her QR and nodded slightly.

“Welcome to the launch of the GreySoft Immersion Experience,” he said with a smile. “Once we officially go live, you’ll be able to try out the rigs for yourselves. As original backers of the project, you’re both entitled to six months free full immersion experience.”

“How many times have you had to say that today?” Joslyn asked him. The GreySoft employee shrugged.

“About a dozen so far. We’ll see how many more times I have to say it. If you head on back, there are some refreshments set up for the launch party.”

Elaine nudged Joslyn gently. “C’mon. Let’s go see what’s there.”

She nodded, flashing a smile at the employee. Elaine gave him a slightly more shy smile to match her friend’s and then headed back toward the rear of the storefront’s footprint.

The place was actually more subdivided than she suspected, with several banks of rigs separated from each other by partitions. Hanging from the ceiling in the center of the storefront was a series of monitors showing realtime gameplay on various Universe worlds, couches set up in a ring around those monitors, set up at optimum viewing angles and distances. Along the back wall was a massive monitor that currently displayed the GreySoft logo spinning lazily on a pale gray background. Tables laden with food were spread out in that back quarter of the gaming café and there was a temporary bar set up in the corner. About a dozen people—most of them looking like they weren’t employees—milled around there, some seated at more permanent appearing tables, laptops out, playing the game, others deep in conversation, haunting the space between the food and the bar.

“This is a little swankier than I thought it might be,” Elaine murmured.

“Yeah,” Joslyn agreed, canting her head to one side. “But the initial launch has gone well and sub numbers have been good. This is a big deal for the company, too.”

Elaine nodded, glancing back toward the ring of monitors hanging in the center of the café. “It’s a nice setup.”

“Seems like it.” Joslyn straightened her sweater. “I’m going to get a drink. You want something?”

“Whatever you’re going to have is fine.”

Joslyn nodded and headed for the bar, leaving Elaine to watch the gameplay monitors. She crossed her arms, gaze flicking between the screens. Science fiction worlds—Titan and Extremis, unless she missed her guess—were displayed side-by-side with fantasy realms Acadia and Tuatha. One of the larger screens was showing gameplay in the world she and Joslyn played on, Triskelion, a cross-genre world—one of the more unique places, largely shaped by backers of the project even before the beta for the original version of Universe had launched. It wasn’t one of the more popular realms, though it had been gaining players recently. There was a part of her that half wished it wouldn’t, that the community there could stay small and close-knit. She knew it wouldn’t, but it was nice to hope. Elaine was more than half certain that Joslyn knew most of the people who played on Triskelion and most of those people liked her. As for herself, Elaine knew a far smaller number but got along with most of them.

Most of them.

“What are you—?” Joslyn broke off as she followed Elaine’s gaze to the screens even as she nudged her friend’s elbow with a glass of white wine. “Oh. That’s actual—huh. I wonder how they choose who to follow.”

“Employees, maybe?” Elaine guessed as she took the glass. “Or maybe we’re watching things through NPC eyes. Pick an NPC in one of the cities or in the wilds at random and just…watch.”

“Maybe,” Joslyn said, then lifted her glass. “Salut.”

Elaine mirrored her friend’s actions and took a sip of the wine. It was cool and sweet and she knew it would be more than enough to help start taking the edge off her nerves—probably part of the reason why Joslyn had suggested it in the first place.

He best friend knew her far too well in some ways.

“I didn’t read the whole email about this,” Elaine said, still watching the screens. “How’s this going to work?”

“Well, café’s open all night for us if we want to stay all night—which I doubt but who knows, right? Launch is after some telecast speeches, and those are supposed to start in like fifteen minutes. Then they officially flip the switch and the immersion experience is live.” She glanced sidelong toward the rigs, brow furrowing. “They really don’t look much different than what we’ve got at home, do they?”

“No,” Elaine said, studying them. “But I’m sure they must be.”

“For sure,” Joslyn said, though she sounded as uncertain as Elaine felt.

Give it a chance. They’ll probably surprise you.

At least that would be the nice kind of surprise.

Elaine took another sip of wine. “Was Ascalon going to do the immersion experience?” Her gaze slanted toward Joslyn, who blushed slightly, staring into her own glass.

“He and I honestly didn’t talk about it.”

“Seriously?” Elaine blinked. “I think I’m shocked.”

Joslyn gave an eloquent shrug. “It just didn’t come up, not really. I mentioned that I was going to do it and he said that was cool, but he didn’t say anything about doing it on his end and honestly, I didn’t want to ask.”

“Why not?” Elaine asked, brow arching. “There must have been a reason.”

“It just didn’t feel right,” Joslyn said, then smiled a little. “It wasn’t the time and it didn’t feel like the place.”

“You guys seem to talk a lot,” Elaine said, staring at her over the rim of her glass. “How close have you two been getting? You sure talk about him enough.”

A faint blush stole across her cheeks and she shook her head. “It’s really nothing major.”

“That blush says otherwise.” Elaine watched her, smirking slightly. “Come on, Joss.”

“I don’t even know his real name,” she said, rolling her eyes and tossing back half of the wine in her glass in one unbroken swallow.

“Does he know yours?”

“No. It hasn’t come up.”

“Is that by design?”

Joslyn shot her a look, brow furrowed and lips pursed slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Have you just decided not to?”

“Not to what? Talk about real life? Of course we talk about real life. We just don’t know each other’s real names, that’s all. It’s not a big deal either way. He’s a nice guy.”

“So you’ve said.” Elaine shrugged. “I was just curious.”

Joslyn smiled crookedly. “Trust me, if it becomes more than being friends, you will be the first person I tell.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Oh, you were totally going in that direction and it’s okay. It’s fine that you were going in that direction. Hell, if it were me, I would be, too.” Joslyn shrugged, swallowing the rest of her wine. “Not like any of the guys I’ve dated the past few years have been keepers in any sense of the word.”

“There haven’t been many of them,” Elaine said, watching the images on the screens in front of them instead of watching Joslyn’s face. “For either of us.”

“Well, there’s good reasons for that.” Joslyn nudged her gently and Elaine glanced at her, managing a smile. “I’m going to go get some more wine. Think we should check out the food?”

“Probably,” Elaine said, checking her watch again. Ten minutes. “Think we’ll want to be sitting for the speeches and whatnot?”

Joslyn shrugged. “Maybe. Probably be fine not sitting, though—and probably get a better view.” She looked toward the tables nearer to the screen at the back. “I’m sure there’ll be enough seats either way.”

Elaine looked back toward the doors. There were only a few more people trickling in, two girls and a guy, all around their age. Her attention drifted back to the screens for a moment, recognizing the city on the screen. “Look. Coronet.”

Joslyn followed her gaze and cocked her head to one side. “Huh. Guess they’re running around in Elfaedil. That’s cool.” She pointed to Elaine’s glass. “Want some more wine?”

She shook her head. “Not yet.” Her glass was still half full. Joslyn nodded.

“I’m going to get more,” she said again, then walked away, wandering back toward the bar in the corner. Elaine exhaled, watching the screen for a few moments longer, the vaguely familiar streets and buildings, the winding path up toward the coastal cliffs where the Lord of Elfaedil’s manor perched overlooking the sea. The frame focused on that view—looking up the rocky hillside and winding path toward the manor—then the screen faded to black, apparently switching perspectives to someone else on Triskelion.

She turned away, drifting toward the refreshments table. The spread was generous, hot appetizers and meat skewers, fresh fruits and vegetable plates, snacks and desserts. Elaine snagged two plates, balancing one on her arm and holding the other in hand as she started loading both, one for herself and the other for Joslyn. Her brief stint waitressing had paid off in that regard, and she smiled wryly as she finished loading the plates and reclaimed her glass from the edge of the refreshments table. Joslyn was already on her way back, a fresh glass of wine in hand. A few of the people who’d been idling across the room had gotten up for refills on their drinks—more than a few beers, but a few other things in the mix, too.

Joslyn plucked the plate from Elaine’s arm with a smile. “Thanks.”

Elaine nodded. A flicker to her left drew her attention and she turned, looking at the large screen at the back of the café. It had gone blank, the GreySoft logo no longer spinning there, replaced now by a dark screen.

“Guess it’s starting,” she said softly.

Joslyn grinned. “Guess so.” She hooked an arm through Elaine’s and tugged her away from the refreshments table and toward the center of the floor for a better view of the big screen. An excited flutter raced through Elaine’s stomach and she shifted her weight from one foot to the other and then back again. It was exciting.

I’m glad Hadrian made me come.

He was right, she probably would have regretted not being there for it.

The screen stayed dark for a few more seconds, long enough for the lights to dim and for the last threads of conversation to fade. The employee watching the doors closed them, further dimming the café.

Then, a voice: “Thank you.”