The day before the Winter Ball dawned grey and bitterly cold.
Gerffron stood at the window of his room watching the first weak light struggle through heavy clouds. The Wadee gardens were frozen — every rose bush encased in a thin layer of ice, every path dusted with fresh snow. The villa itself hummed with barely contained tension. Servants rushed through corridors carrying armfuls of winter greenery and crystal decorations. Florists from the capital had arrived at dawn with carts of forced hothouse blooms for the ball tomorrow. The air smelled of pine, cinnamon, and anticipation so thick it felt suffocating.
Tomorrow night, the entire nobility of the Zenos Empire would gather at the royal palace. The Crown Prince Teivel and the current King and Queen would be there. Gorgina would be expected to stand beside him in ways that made Gerffron's stomach turn. And somewhere in the shadows of that palace, a boy dressed like precious merchandise would be prepared as the opening piece of a slave market.
He had not slept.
The two pebbles from Styrmir sat on his desk beside Count Remal's silver ring. He picked them up, rolling them between his fingers as he had done nearly every morning for months. The crude S and G were almost smooth now from constant touch. The guilt had not faded. It had simply hardened into something colder. Sharper. Useful.
A sharp knock shattered the silence.
Selfi entered, her expression tighter than usual. "Your Grace. There is a situation at the main gate. Your parents have arrived. Unannounced. They brought three of your half-siblings with them and are demanding to see you immediately. Lady Elowen is already waiting in the entrance hall."
Gerffron went very still.
"My parents?"
"Yes, Your Grace. Lord and Lady Cliff."
He nodded once. "I'll be down shortly."
He dressed with slow, deliberate care. The deep emerald robe with gold embroidery that made his eyes look like chips of ice. He pinned the fresh blood-red rose above his heart and slipped both the pebbles and the silver ring into the hidden pocket. Armour. All of it was armour now.
The entrance hall felt colder than the gardens outside.
Lord and Lady Cliff stood in the center of the marble floor as though they owned it. His father had gained more weight since Gerffron last saw him, belly straining against an outdated velvet tunic. His mother's sharp face was painted heavily, her gown expensive but clearly from a previous season. Behind them huddled three half-siblings — two teenage boys and a girl of fourteen — all staring at the opulence around them with naked greed.
Lady Elowen stood opposite them like a queen facing peasants, fan snapping open and shut with dangerous rhythm.
The moment Gerffron descended the grand staircase, his mother's face lit up with theatrical warmth.
"Gerffron! My precious son!" She rushed forward, arms wide. "Look at you! Dressed like royalty! We always knew you would rise above your station."
She tried to embrace him. Gerffron sidestepped smoothly, forcing her arms to drop awkwardly.
"Mother. Father," he said, voice perfectly even. "This visit is… unexpected."
His father cleared his throat, eyes darting around the hall like he was mentally pricing every candelabra and painting. "We came to support you before the Winter Ball, of course. The family should stand together at such important times. But we also have urgent matters to discuss."
Lady Elowen's voice sliced through the air. "Urgent matters? You were paid a very generous dowry for this marriage. More than generous."
His mother's smile turned brittle and sharp. "Generous? That money barely covered what we sacrificed raising him! After all the scandals, all the trouble… we protected his name. And now he lives in luxury while his brothers and sister still scrub floors back home? Surely the Wadee Duchy can spare a little more for family."
The word "family" tasted like ash in Gerffron's mouth.
Memories flooded him unbidden, both as that as Deepak and Gerffron — being compared to Birsha since childhood, the day he was outed as gay, the cold letters demanding more money after the wedding with Gorgina. These same people had sold him without hesitation and were now back for seconds.
Gerffron felt the old shame rise… and then settle into something colder.
He smiled — small, polite, and terrifyingly calm.
"How much?" he asked quietly.
His father named a sum so exorbitant that even Lady Elowen's fan froze mid-motion.
Gerffron's mother stepped closer, voice turning wheedling. "Think of your poor siblings. They have nothing while you wear silk and live in a palace. Is this how you repay us for everything we did for you?"
One of the half-brothers sneered. "Look at him. Thinks he's too good for us now. Playing dress-up like some highborn whore."
The insult landed.
For a moment, the old Deepak — the boy who had apologised with his dying breath — wanted to flinch. But that boy had died in Hyderabad's business institute.
The man who remained looked at his family with emerald eyes that held no warmth.
"You sold me once," he said softly. "You took the gold and asked for more in your letters. You never asked how I was. You never cared. And now you come here the day before the most important event of the season to embarrass me in front of my mother-in-law and demand more blood money."
The hall went deathly silent.
His mother opened her mouth to scream. Gerffron raised one hand, stopping her instantly.
"I will give you nothing today," he continued, voice still soft. "But I will remember this visit. Every word. Every insult. Every greedy demand. And when the time comes… I promise I will repay the Cliff family exactly as you deserve."
The threat was quiet. But it was absolute.
His father's face turned purple. "You ungrateful little—"
"Enough," Lady Elowen snapped, voice like a whip crack. "You have five minutes to leave my estate before I have the guards throw you out like the vermin you are. And if you ever return without invitation, I will make sure every noble in the empire knows exactly what kind of parasites the Cliff family truly is."
The family was escorted out with humiliating speed. His mother's shrieks and curses echoed down the corridor until the heavy doors slammed shut behind them.
Silence returned to the entrance hall.
Lady Elowen turned to Gerffron, studying him with new eyes. For the first time, there was a flicker of genuine respect in her gaze.
"You handled that better than most would have," she said. "But blood is blood, Gerffron. They will not stop coming for more."
Gerffron bowed shallowly. "I know, my lady. And I shall be ready."
"You better be. The money my daughter earns isn't something to be thrown for some hyna."
That night, as the villa prepared for the final preparations before the Winter Ball, Gerffron stood once more at his window watching snow fall softly over the frozen gardens.
He took out the silver ring from Count Remal and slipped it onto his finger.
Tomorrow was the Winter Ball.
Tomorrow he would smile beside Gorgina while the Crown Prince watched them both with hungry eyes.
Tomorrow the slave market would move one step closer to opening.
And somewhere in the cold, a boy was still waiting.
Gerffron touched the blood-red rose on his chest and smiled at his reflection in the dark glass.