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The event had a strict dress code. She stepped out in her favorite dress. Dawson looked as sharp as ever in a black tux and polished shoes.
When he saw her, he sighed. “Spheres, help me. Winters, we’re going to have to fit in with some of the wealthiest people in the magic sphere.”
“Well, I’m not rich.”
“Evidently. I was worried about your disastrous fashion taste and asked Amelia for some dresses. You’ll find them in your closet.”
“You could have told me that before.”
“I could and yet it is arguably more entertaining to see what you would have picked on your own. Apparently, a black dress made out of, what…cotton…was your choice?”
He said cotton as if the word was an infectious disease he might catch. She shook her head. “I’ll get changed.”
“A wise choice.”
She went with the least-revealing dress from Amelia’s selection, which still didn’t seem to have enough fabric for her liking. The slit on the right meant her entire leg was bare. The silk dress had a lace detailing at the back, which nobody would see because she intended to keep her coat on to conceal her scar.
When she walked out this time, Dawson’s eyes widened.
“Better?” she sighed.
“Immeasurably.”
—
They coin traveled to Magus Rotunda. Large columns lined the way as they walked into the hall. Torches illuminated the elegant decor. Guests mingled, sipping on their drinks. Waiters carried silver trays with tiny plates and even smaller portions of food.
A Wielder formed elaborate ice sculptures. The dark mist in his hands solidified slowly and transformed into black ice. A small group of people had gathered around him and clapped when he finished his creation. Mira had always been fascinated by ice magic.
Several speakers were scheduled to give lectures. The who’s who of Dark Magic was in attendance: Highmages, experts, and council members from all spheres.
Dawson shrugged out of his coat and gave it to the attendant, then he held out a hand to take her coat, but Mira pulled it tighter around her.
“It’s cold in here. I’ll keep it.”
His eyes narrowed but he didn’t say anything.
They walked to their seats and sat through several speeches about spells, potions, and artifacts, but nothing fit the description of what they were looking for.
When the next speaker took the stage, Dawson leaned in closer. “That’s Highmage Eriksson.”
Mira listened with interest to her presentation about attaching Dark Magic to certain potions, wondering if it could help her with her scar removal. After the speeches concluded, they moved on to a second room where more drinks were served and people mingled. It wasn’t hard for her to disappear in the crowd—people barely gave her a second look—but the silver-white scion of one of the most prominent families in the world stuck out like a sore thumb.
“Is it odd for you to be here?” she asked him as they walked away from the bar, heads turning in their direction.
He scoffed. “It would be odd for me not to be here. My estate is one of tonight’s biggest donors, after all.”
She almost spat out her Goldwine. “With everything that happened with your family during the war, they have you sponsoring a Dark Magic convention?”
“Don’t sound so shocked, Winters. My family has been sponsoring the event for years. Under my guidance, it is repayment for my family’s crimes and a way to learn from the mistakes of the past. Perhaps you should have read the leaflet.”
A man with slicked-backed hair approached them. “Dawson! Good to see you.”
They started talking about the convention when Mira spotted Highmage Eriksson in the distance. She excused herself and walked over to the Highmage. Her hair was even frizzier than Mira’s, with streaks of gray among the blond, and despite her obviously expensive outfit, something about her seemed not to fit in with the rest of the group.
“Highmage Eriksson?” Mira asked when she stood next to her. “My name is Mira Winters. I’m a student of Highmage Obryn at Ivercrest, and he said to meet you after—”
