The crystal chandeliers cast a glittering glow over the gowns and tailored coats. The whispers and laughter of the masked men and women floated through the air.

However, the murmur softened as the first notes slipped from the grand piano, filling the vast ballroom with a melody both delicate and commanding.

From behind a black mask the pianist’s voice rose, smooth, unmistakable, carrying effortlessly over the hum of the gathering. Forrest Dawson, the younger brother of Raven, nineteen and already needed no introduction; his presence was known in every corner of the gathering, for it wasn’t his words but his music that defined him.

As his music filled the room, the dancers found their cue. Couples stepped forward, hands clasping, bodies swaying into the rhythm.

The waltz began, measured, flowing, alive. It was turning the grand hall into a sea of motion, every step and twirl drawn to the music’s spell. 

Among the crowd, Gabriel moved with ease, a familiar calm in his steps. He danced with the woman he’d met just hours earlier, and somehow, they already moved in sync.

Gabriel was considered an excellent dancer, mostly because following Raven often meant blending into places he never quite enjoyed. Except tonight.

His partner followed his lead without needing words, matching his rhythm like she’d done it a dozen times before. Neither could tell if it was a connection, a lucky night, or simply the music. But they both knew, it was the best dance they'd ever had.

Meanwhile, Raven approached the woman from earlier. He walked with his usual confidence and smiled when meeting her eye. As the music swelled, the lilting waltz filled the grand ballroom. He offered his hand, confident, deliberate.

"May I claim a dance before you've decided I've lingered too long?" he asked, a half-smile tugged at his lips.

Her hand rested lightly in his as he guided her to the floor. She regarded him with an almost imperceptible raise of her brow. "That depends if you make it worth my reconsideration?"

"Then allow me the art of persuasion," he replied smoothly, "far more agreeable than mere insistence."

The crowd spun around them, but in that small orbit, only their banter mattered. "I must confess," Raven said, leaning just enough to meet her eyes, "your footwork is far superior to my expectations."

"Flattery on the dance floor?" Her voice soft yet pointed. "I had hoped for at least a hint of honesty."

Raven smirked, "I find honesty tends to ruin a perfectly enjoyable illusion." 

She tilted her head, letting a corner of her mouth curve. "And here I thought illusions were meant for the less clever."

"Cleverness," he countered, guiding her in a smooth turn, "is simply charm in disguise."

Her laugh was quiet, like the chime of crystal. "Then I hope you’re not deceiving me entirely."

"Only enough." They moved together through the steps, a graceful give and take. "Do you always dance so cautiously?" He asked, "Or is this part of a strategy?"

"Only with those who insist on testing my patience." Raven grinned before pausing and adding, "Then I should be careful, but I won't in hopes of a reward for recklessness."

"And I shall endeavor," he added, dipping her slightly as the music shifted, "to keep you suitably entertained."

She finally met his gaze. "Be warned," she said lightly, "entertainment is seldom without its cost."

Raven leaned closer, letting the music carry his words. "Then I shall consider the expense willingly, provided the company remains as exquisite as the risk."

A moment passed, the unspoken challenge lingered in the air, neither conceded, and when the waltz drew to its close, Raven released her hand just enough to bow, eyes never leaving hers. 

"Until the next dance, then." he whispered. "Until then," she replied, her smile barely more than his whisper, "I may keep my patience."

After the dance, both Gabriel and Raven stepped aside for a moment. Raven went to speak with Mr. Fullmore again, and Gabriel found himself bumped by Mr. Hawk.

“Excuse me, my good man,” said Hawk as Gabriel turned. “Think nothing of it,” Gabriel replied with a polite smile. “The crowd is rather close this evening.”

“Indeed,” Mr. Hawk said, nodding. “I must confess, I find such a gathering," he paused briefly, "trying.” Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “I cannot say I disagree, though tonight seems to be passing rather well.”

“I should be glad to borrow your luck,” Mr. Hawk observed, sipping from his glass. Gabriel studied him, but the mask gave nothing away. “Do we know one another?” Mr. Hawk shook his head. “I could not say. Garfield Hawk,” he added, offering his hand.

“Gabriel Crow,” said Gabriel, returning the handshake. “Though I am sure this is our first meeting, I feel I have seen you before.” Gabriel remarked. “Perhaps,” Hawk replied, “I have a familiar face.”
Gabriel chuckled, "Perhaps."

Meanwhile, Raven settled back beside Mr. Fullmore. A servant handed him a glass as the older gentleman began, “Well, if it isn’t the graceful Raven. I had thought it a swan’s duty to glide as you did.”

Raven smirked, lifting the glass, then pausing mid-sip. “I must admit, you were right. Clever lady. Had I not been quick-witted, I should have found myself partnerless this evening.” He set the glass down, forgetting he had intended to drink.

“She takes after her mother,” Mr. Fullmore remarked, raising his own glass. “A rare quality. But she takes to you. Keep at it, and you may yet succeed.”

Raven met his gaze. “Excellent counsel, sir. I had thought we were not here to talk trade.” Fullmore’s lips curled into a smile. “You catch on rather quickly for one of your years.”

“Perhaps, ” Raven replied, raising his glass again, “you are simply growing too old for subtlety.” Mr. Fullmore laughed, setting his glass aside.

“All I wish is for them to be happy.”

Raven inclined his head, pausing for a moment. “That is all a good parent desires. I shall not disappoint you, sir.”

Mr. Fullmore rose. “Shall not? That depends, I fear, upon your diligence.” Raven sampled his drink with a confident smile. “Then consider the challenge gladly accepted.”

“I hope Mr. Fullmore’s dinner is as good as his café’s breakfast,” Gabriel said to Mr. Hawk as they took their seats. “You’ve been?” Hawk asked, scanning the room. “I much prefer a good pub. Besides, a tavern fills pockets nicely.”

“A fine diner would get my coin sooner than any unruly liquor hole,” Gabriel replied, setting down his glass. “Robin’s Perch is one of the few proper places left in London.”

“New is better,” Hawk said. “London will thrive without it.”

Gabriel scoffed. “Do you suggest raw grapes with prime steak? Or ride a foal instead of a steed?” He added, “You’re my elder, yet I feel inclined to inform you age brings wisdom.”

“Well said,” Hawk replied, finishing his drink. “Still, I prefer a new pocket watch to the story of an old one."

"Freshly made, it shines," Gabriel agreed, "But only time gives it value, in coin and esteem.”

Gabriel excused himself and crossed the room to where Raven stood with Mr. Fullmore. Raven wasted no time in making the introduction.

“Mr. Fullmore, this is my good friend, Gabriel Crow.” Mr. Fullmore extended a hand. “Robin Fullmore.”

Gabriel shook it firmly. “A pleasure, sir. Or do you prefer Mr. Fullmore?”

“Robin works just fine.”

Gabriel inclined his head, while Raven blinked, caught off guard. “Like him already?” he asked with a faint chuckle.

Mr. Fullmore rested a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “He’s the reason I saw my daughter smile tonight.”

Raven’s brow furrowed in confusion. “He has three, Raven,” Gabriel said with a hint of mockery. 

Before Raven could fire back, the scent of food filled the air, accompanied by the rich sound of the butler’s voice. “My lords, ladies, and gentlemen, dinner is served.”

The three men made their way toward the dining hall, Mr. Fullmore gesturing for Gabriel and Raven to join his family’s table. 

The dining room doors swung open, chandeliers illuminating like a hundred stars, footmen stationed like chess pieces, and the table stretched out under its army of silver and crystal. 

For a moment, the guests paused at the threshold, drinking in the grandeur, before following the host and hostess inside.

At the center table sat Freda Hamilton and her husband, Willard. They were soon joined by Robin Fullmore, Raven Dawson, and Gabriel Crow. Followed by the two masked women who had danced with the gentlemen earlier in the evening.

There was an extra seat, which Mr. Fullmore was quick to notice. “Staying extra prepared, Willard?”

Willard glanced at the empty chair Mr. Fullmore gestured toward. “Oh, no, sir. I originally only planned for the five of us. But two of your kin requested an extra place. Then a gentleman asked for one more, saying his cousin and friend were the new additions.”

At that moment, Mr. Hawk arrived and slid into the chair. “Mr. Fullmore, Raven, Mr. Crow.”

Raven was the first to respond. “Congratulations. You’ve managed to swindle your way to the grown-ups’ table.” Which earned a light chuckle from both Mr. Fullmore and Ms. Katheryn.

The woman Gabriel had met on the balcony leaned toward him and whispered to him, “Now’s as good of a time as any.” She gave a faint smile. “Edith Fullmore.”

Gabriel accepted the introduction with a kiss to her hand. “Gabriel Crow.” Raven noticed and smirked proudly, but it didn't last long, as Mr. Hawk was about to begin speaking.

“This has been such an incredible gathering, Mr. Fullmore. Your daughter and Mr. Hamilton have outdone themselves.”

At that moment, the servers began bringing out the food. Mr. Hawk seized the moment, slipping a pound into the hand of one of the servers. The gesture drew half the table’s eyes.

Gabriel responded first, “Mr. Hawk, I see your intent. But at a private dinner of this nature, tipping is hardly the custom. One shows appreciation through courtesy, not coin.”

Mr. Fullmore gave a slow, appreciative and approving nod.

Of course, Mr. Hawk didn’t leave it there. “Relax, Mr. Crow. To a man of my wealth, this is barely coin worth noting.” Gabriel only shook his head, setting his napkin across his lap as the first course was laid before him.

Raven, however, didn’t let it end there. “Garfield, what Mr. Crow was attempting to explain,” he said, inclining his head slightly, “is that tipping at such an event gives the impression the staff isn’t adequately provided for.”

He reached into his pocket and produced two pounds, sliding them deliberately toward Mr. Hawk.

“See,” he continued, “if you were to return this, it would be rude. But by my giving it to you, it implies that perhaps you are lacking in funds.”

Mr. Hawk’s hand clenched under the table, and he nodded, returning the coins passive aggressively.

“Keep it.” Raven said with a faint smile. “Educating you is worth far more than any coin.” Gabriel placed his napkin over his mouth, in an attempt to subtly mask his amusement. 

The dinner continued with Mr. Hawk staying mostly silent, his earlier display having already cost him the table’s favor.

Conversation turned elsewhere, as Mr. Fullmore guided the talk to marriage, the quality of the orchestra, and even current events.

The ladies joined in, adding gossip of masked guests and speculation on whose identity lingered behind which feathered disguise. Laughter bubbled, wine flowed, and the earlier awkwardness seemed smoothed over.

Mr. Hawk smiled when spoken to, but his replies were clipped, his eyes seldom leaving Raven. 

“You’re staring daggers.” Mr. Fullmore observed lightly. “Is something on your mind, Mr. Hawk?” 

Hawk’s jaw tightened, then he forced a smile before his face illuminated with an idea of a topic that would get back at Raven. "Not at all, sir. I was only thinking of the dance this evening. Quite the spectacle."

Mr. Hawk leaned back in his chair, voice loud enough to draw nearby ears. “I must say, Raven, you dance quite well, for a man with a limp." Raven’s smile thinned. "Excuse me?" 

Mr. Hawk leaned forward, "I was merely remarking, Dawson, it is remarkable how you manage the floor so gracefully, given your impediment.” 

“Tread lightly, Garfield.”

Unmoved, Hawk swirled his wine. “Tell me, Dawson, is it bravery or vanity that keeps you from bringing that cane of yours?"

Raven’s hand pressed against the table as if to rise. “Careful, Hawk. I advise against you continuing. I wouldn’t make myself go over there.”

Hawk smirked and placed down his glass. “Careful, Dawson, at this rate the parquet floor shall wear unevenly before the evening’s end.”

The scrape of Raven’s chair echoed as he pushed to stand, but before he could take a step, Gabriel’s fist struck Hawk square across the jaw, the crack loud enough to silence three conversations at once.