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The party unfolded without a hitch. Music flowed through the great hall in an unbroken current, laughter and idle conversation rising and falling beneath it while wine was poured with careless generosity. Light glinted off crystal and gold, off polished floors smooth by decades of excess. Teia watched it all with a hawk’s eye, her gaze cutting through the crowd as she searched for their target. Faces blurred together - courtiers, merchants, would-be allies - all masks and smiles, all ultimately irrelevant. The one she was looking for was not among them.
Just another night.
Just another contract.
Viago stood by her side, pretending to sip his wine, his expression carefully bored. They needed to locate the target soon, and the crowd was growing thicker by the minute.
Teia made a decision.
She grabbed his hand without warning and pulled him toward the dancers. Before he could form a protest, she neatly relieved him of his glass, setting it down on a random table as they passed. Her other hand slid to his waist, firm and familiar, while she lifted his arm into position as if the arrangement had always been agreed upon.
Teia noticed his hesitation immediately and wasted no time teasing him for it. "Do not look at your feet," she chided lightly, fingers already closing around his wrist. "It will only distract you."
"I have two left feet," Viago warned.
"Then I shall lend you one of mine," she replied with a smile that was all charm and challenge. Thereafter, more seriously, she leaned closer, and lowered her voice. "We need to circle the ballroom to look for our target."
She studied him as she spoke, still faintly suspicious that a man like Viago did not know how to dance, but it hardly mattered. She could work with that.
"Just hold onto me."
Viago froze the moment his hand found her waist, his entire frame tightening as if bracing for impact. His frown told her his head was going a mile an hour,
"You are thinking very loudly," she murmured.
"I'm thinking this is a terrible idea," Viago said, glancing down at her.
"A waltz is not a duel, dear," Teia replied dryly. "Stop positioning yourself like you are about to go into battle."
She stepped closer, close enough that she caught the scent of his cologne. Sandalwood and vetiver, subtle yet sharp beneath a layer of smokiness. Her hand slid up to his shoulder, adjusting him without apology. She nudged him an inch to the left, pressed lightly at his back until his posture yielded.
"There," she said. "Relax. If you remain this rigid, you will topple us both."
Her tone softened just enough to coax rather than command. "Trust me."
Teia counted softly, barely above a whisper. "One, two, three."
Viago moved too late on the first step, nearly colliding with another couple. She did not pull away. Instead, she tightened her grip and leaned in, voice warm with amusement.
"Ah. Ambitious. Let us try again."
Her foot brushed against his deliberately this time, guiding, insisting. The contact sent a visible jolt through him, his breath catching as he recalibrated.
"Follow," she murmured. "Do not lead. Not yet."
His jaw tightened in concentration, but his next step landed where it should. Then another. The tension in his shoulders eased, just a fraction.
"There you are," she said, pleased. "See? The floor has not betrayed you."
He looked down at their feet, then back at her. "You are distracting."
She smiled up at him, slow and dangerous. "You're allowed to focus on me while I look for our target."
They turned together, skirts and coats whispering around them. When he stumbled again, she laughed softly, delighted, fingers curling a little more firmly at his back.
Viago’s next step did not falter.
He didn't hesitate or correct himself. His feet slid neatly into place, precise, perfectly timed with the swell of the music. The hand at her waist was no longer tentative but assured, guiding her through the turn rather than merely following.
Teia laughed, breathless, arching a brow. "I should have known."
Viago leaned closer, his voice low at her ear. "I wanted to see whether you would excuse my lack of grace on the dance floor."
He drew back just enough to look down at her, an insufferable smile playing at his lips.
"I think I have excused a great many things, Viago de Riva," she replied.
"Probably, yes."
"You let me teach you."
"I always have something to learn from the Seventh Talon."
Her fingers tightened briefly at his shoulder. "Then you should also learn that my patience has limits."
His answer was movement.
He twirled her with practiced ease, fluid and precise, then dipped her smoothly, close enough that the world narrowed to breath and music. His lips brushed hers in a quick, almost imperceptible kiss before he brought her upright again, their original position restored as if nothing had happened.
Without breaking stride, he murmured, "The target has entered the ballroom. Eleven o'clock. Accompanied by his daughter."
Teia’s posture sharpened, her eyes already scanning the crowd. The plan was simple. She would draw the target into the garden, where the music and lantern light thinned into privacy. Viago would remain close enough to intervene if anything went wrong, a quiet shadow keeping pace with her movements.
The man was snobbish, vain, and easily flattered. Teia had dealt with his type countless times before. She was was naturally charming, her smile practiced, her words smooth and inviting. Beauty helped, but it was her silver tongue that did most of the work.
He took the bait quickly.
She laughed at his stories, leaned in at the right moments, guided him away from the densest knots of guests with the illusion that it had been his idea all along. All the while, Viago moved through the ballroom with calculated ease, never close enough to draw attention, never far enough to lose sight of her. Each shift of her hand, each tilt of her head, he mirrored at a distance, tracking her progress through reflections in polished glass and the rhythm of the crowd.
Teia kept her expression warm, pleasant.
Inside, she was disgusted.
She remembered the contract clearly. The man had purchased an entire circle of slaves weeks ago, a transaction treated as little more than a status symbol among his peers. He had not known, or perhaps had not cared, that one of them was the son of a merchant prince. Someone powerful enough to pay handsomely for his death.
Teia smiled as the man offered his arm to go to the gardens.
Some debts, she thought, collected themselves.
The dagger slid free from beneath her skirt, hidden perfectly along the slit. In the heartbeat where his attention drifted, Teia struck - the blade slipped between his fourth and fifth rib with practiced precision. He made a small, startled sound, more breath than voice, the impact stealing the air from his lungs. His twitching hands clawed uselessly at her arms as the noise of the party swallowed his struggle whole.
It was over in seconds.
He collapsed onto the stone, white fabric darkening rapidly as blood bloomed across it, vivid and obscene. Teia stepped back just as Viago appeared at her side, his expression sharp with alarm and assessment.
"Someone caused trouble at the party and ran into the garden," he said evenly, already scanning the paths. "We need to hide the body. Quickly."
She did not argue. Together they dragged the corpse into the shelter of a dense hedge, shoving it deep enough that shadow and foliage swallowed the worst of it. Teia wiped her blade clean against the grass, breath steadying. She barely had time to straighten before Viago caught her wrist and pushed her back against a nearby tree. The bark bit faintly through the fabric of her dress. He was close enough that she caught his scent again, sandalwood and vetiver she loved so much, the warmth of his body pressing into hers as if by instinct rather than choice.
"The guards are coming this way," Viago murmured.
Her pulse spiked. "And if they see the body?"
His mouth curved. "They will not."
Footsteps crunched on gravel nearby.
"We will distract them."
Before she could reply, Viago leaned down and kissed her. It was quick but convincing, his hand sliding smoothly to lift her leg as if the moment had overtaken them entirely. The rashness of it startled her more than the situation at hand. He was never this bold. She didn't need to force herself to respond, fingers curling into his collar, breath catching just enough to sell the illusion as lantern light shifted closer.
If the guards looked their way, they would see nothing more than a couple who had strayed too far from the music.
"What are you two doing outside the party?" a booming voice demanded from their left. The guard stood rigid, one hand already hovering near the hilt of his blade.
Viago did not move away from her. If anything, he leaned in just enough to make the answer self-evident.
"I believe our position answers that question," he said curtly.
The man’s face flushed, color creeping up his neck as the situation finally registered. He cleared his throat, eyes darting away with sudden embarrassment. "There is a robber on the loose. Be careful."
"Oh, we will, officer," Teia replied smoothly, her tone light, almost amused.
The guard muttered something under his breath and moved on, boots crunching against the gravel as he disappeared back toward the lantern-lit paths. They stayed exactly where they were until the sound faded completely. Only then did they both exhale.
Teia tilted her head up, a smirk tugging at her lips. "I was not expecting this from you."
"It was effective," Viago replied simply.
She hummed. "Should we leave the party and leave the body behind?"
"For now," he said after a moment, thoughtful. Then his gaze returned to her, intent. "Where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?"
"I recall something about a kiss," Teia mused.
Her fingers traced his jaw, threading lightly through his beard. The touch was deliberate, unhurried. Viago answered by kissing her again, slower this time, with a quiet devotion that stole her breath. She let herself sink into it, into the way his hands held her steady, the way their bodies aligned as if they had always known how to fit together.
They let the quiet garden and the star-filled sky bear witness to their love.