The Aetheria was a nightmare of beauty.
While the Foundry was built of soot and iron, the upper city was crafted from white marble and solidified sunlight. As the lift ascended the Great Anchor—the massive chain that kept the royal district from drifting away—my stomach did a slow, nauseating roll.
"Don't throw up on the silk," I hissed, elbowing Kia.
Kia was currently vibrating. She was dressed in a "borrowed" apprentice's tunic, her hair tucked under a cap to hide the singed ends. She was clutching a heavy crate of sewing supplies as if it were a shield.
"I'm not going to throw up," Kia whispered, her eyes wide as she stared at the clouds passing beneath us. "I'm going to pass out. There's a difference, Gloria. One is messy, the other is graceful."
"Just keep your head down and let me do the talking. And for the love of the Stars, don't try to 'light' anything. The air up here is filtered with magic; one spark and you'll probably trigger a localized thunderstorm."
The lift hummed to a stop, and the doors opened to a courtyard that smelled of jasmine and absolute, unearned wealth. We were led by a silent, gold-clad guard through hallways so polished I could see my own terrified reflection in the floorboards.
We weren't going to the servants' entrance. Since we were delivering the gowns for the Opening Gala, we were being ushered directly to the Royal Wing.
"The Lady Sonia and Lady Sandy are in the Solarium," the guard grunted, stopping before a pair of doors carved from translucent pearl. "Try not to touch anything. Especially the Prince's statues. He's... particular."
"Specific. Got it," Kia muttered, nearly tripping over her own feet as the doors swung open.
The Solarium was a riot of color and noise. Sonia and Sandy were currently standing on pedestals while three different hair-stylists fought over their tresses. In the corner, a small, fluffy dog with tiny wings was hovering near a bowl of crystalline water.
"Gloria! You're alive!" Sonia shrieked, nearly toppling off her pedestal. "I told Sandy you'd probably been arrested after Stephen's little... outburst. He's been in a foul mood all morning. He broke a training dummy's head off with a single 'Pulse.' It was terrifyingly dreamy."
"I am fine, My Lady," I said, dropping into a practiced curtsy. Kia copied me, though she looked more like a folding chair collapsing. "I have the Aurora-silk adjustments. They require a final fitting to ensure the magic-weave sits correctly against your skin."
"Oh, forget the dresses for a second," Sandy said, waving a hand dismissively. "Have you heard the news? The Wildcard! The King just announced the selection criteria."
My heart skipped. "And?"
"It's not a lottery," Sandy said, leaning in with a conspiratorial whisper. "The Selection Pillar is going to 'sense' the person in the city with the most untapped potential. Someone whose Resonance is... unusual."
"Untapped potential?" Kia squeaked. "In the Foundry? Most people there have the potential to get scurvy, but that's about it."
Sonia giggled, poking Kia's crate with a manicured toe. "Oh, I like this one. She's funny. Is she a Mute too, Gloria? She has that 'I eat dirt for breakfast' look about her."
Kia's eyes flashed orange for a split second. I stepped on her foot, hard.
"She is my most gifted apprentice, My Lady," I said through gritted teeth. "Now, if we could please begin the fitting? The Gala starts in six hours, and the shimmer-thread needs time to bond with your natural auras."
As I began to unpack the gowns, the atmosphere shifted. The light-hearted bickering of the twins was interrupted by a heavy, rhythmic thud from the hallway.
The doors didn't just open; they seemed to surrender.
Kyle walked in.
If Stephen was the "Shadow," Kyle was the "Sunlight"—but the kind of sunlight that gives you a headache and refuses to go away. He was tall, golden-haired, and wearing an outfit that had far too many buckles. He was the highest-ranking Elite outside the royal bloodline, a "Gravity-Wielder" who acted like the entire world was his personal footstool.
"Sonia, Sandy," Kyle drawled, leaning against the doorframe with an arrogant smirk. "Still trying to fix what nature clearly gave up on?"
"Kyle! Get out!" Sandy threw a silk ribbon at him. "This is a private fitting!"
"I'm here on behalf of the Prince," Kyle said, his eyes scanning the room. They landed on me, and his smirk widened. "He mentioned a little tailor girl with a broken meter. Said she had a 'silent' heart. I wanted to see if she was as boring as she sounds."
He walked toward me, his movements unnervingly graceful. He stopped a foot away, and I felt a strange tugging sensation in my gut—like the floor was trying to pull me downward. Gravity magic. He was testing me.
"You look... plain," Kyle decided, circling me like a shark. "A bit of soot behind the ears. Smells like the Foundry. Tell me, little mouse, how did you manage to make my brooding friend lose his temper? He hasn't broken a meter in years."
"I'm just a tailor, My Lord," I said, keeping my eyes on my needles. "The Prince was perhaps just... overstimulated by the quality of my silk."
Kyle laughed, a loud, barking sound. "Overstimulated by silk! I like her. She's got a tongue."
He turned to the twins. "Stephen is obsessed. He's spent the last hour in the archives looking up 'Void' anomalies. If I were you, tailor, I'd be careful. When the Shadow gets interested in something, he usually ends up breaking it to see how it works."
"Is there a point to your visit, Kyle?" I asked, my patience fraying.
"The point," Kyle said, his voice dropping as he leaned over my shoulder, "is that the Selection Pillar is being moved to the Great Hall. Everyone in the Palace—servants, nobles, and tailors—has to pass by it today. It's a mandatory 'Resonance Scan' to ensure no one is hiding... let's say, 'irregularities.'"
I froze. I looked at Kia. Her face was ashen.
The Pillar. If I walked past it, the Essence-thread in my pocket wouldn't be enough. The Pillar didn't just look for magic; it looked for truth.
"Don't look so scared," Kyle said, patting my cheek condescendingly. "It only hurts if you're a liar. And you're just a boring little tailor... right?"
He winked, turned on his heel, and sauntered out, whistling a jaunty tune.
"He is so annoying," Sonia sighed, turning back to the mirror. "But his hair is magnificent. Now, Gloria, about this hem..."
I didn't hear her. All I could hear was the blood rushing in my ears. The Palace was a trap. Stephen hadn't saved me; he had lured me here to see if I would trip the alarm himself.
"Gloria," Kia whispered, grabbing my arm. "We need to leave. Now."
"We can't," I said, looking at the two Royal Gowns. "If we run, we're guilty. If we stay..."
I looked at the shimmering purple thread in the seams.
"If we stay, we have to find a way to break a God-stone."