Prestigious

(adj. preh-STIH-juss)

Image Created in Canva

The city was abuzz over the ball.

The people of the town lined the streets to watch the parade of carriages that ushered rich men and women to the iron gates, an endless array of fancy fabric and sparkling jewelry. Such spectacles were nothing new to these people. There had been plenty of balls before.

But this one was different.

"My dear Clara, how are you?"

I looked up and smiled at an older woman, a deep maroon dress and shining jewels serving to accentuate her curvy figure.

"Lady Westly! I'm well, thank you." I waited for her to step next to my elbow and then matched her pace as we made our way along the main foyer of the mansion.

"I'm impressed with the turnout. Have you ever met this Lord Harrison?"

"I haven't had the pleasure. What do you know about him?"

She snorted, a decidedly unladylike sound that the older, widowed noblewomen seemed to adopt when they no longer cared what others thought of them. "Supposedly he came from a faraway land, bringing with him an immeasurable fortune. Must have, to renovate this old place. It was abandoned for some time, you know. He also appears to be entirely single."

I fought not to roll my eyes at her pointed comment. Her nosiness worked for the plan, after all.

"My dear Lady Westly, I certainly hope you're not planning what I think you are."

A devilish grin lit up her face. "What else do I have to do with my time than try to unite the young, single people of this world?"

I couldn't help my smirk. I actually liked Lady Westly. She was mischievous and a little wild, more akin to me than those that shuffled around us.

"Am I your current project, then?" I asked.

"Oh, my dear, I am perfectly capable of having more than one project at a time." We stepped into the ballroom and she let out a thoughtful hum. I had to agree. The last time I was here, this ballroom was grungy and full of dirt. The chandelier had lain shattered on the ground, the wooden floors had been cracked and full of holes, and everything was generally dark and bleak.

Now the room sparkled in gold and white.

The broken, traditional chandelier had been replaced with a northern piece that was a combination of gilded animal bones and gems, casting bits of colored light around the room. The wood floor had been completely ripped out and replaced with white marble. The walls were lined with paintings and tapestries from far lands, pedestals before them displaying relics from hunts and expeditions.

And every last thing in here was a forgery. I'd done several of them myself.

Lady Westly placed her hand on my arm. "Oh my dear, let me introduce you since your cousin couldn't come."

"I would be honored."

So I spent the next long while being introduced to every noble Lady Westly could get an ear from. And many of them were known bachelors, apparently in want of a wife. I rehearsed my story half a dozen times. Yes, I'm from the country. Yes, I'm staying with my cousin. No, they couldn't make it to the ball tonight.

About an hour in we joined a gaggle of young women taking a break from the endless introductions. I listened to the girls as they exchanged gossip.

“A marvelous party, don’t you think?”

“Certainly so. A wide array of suitors.”

“But there’s only one I have my eye on. Have you met our good host?”

“Once, in town. He was as sweet as could be and appeared to be a regular in the shops. All the shop keeps seemed to know him and talked with him most agreeably.”

“Of course they would, I heard he’s been spending like mad.”

“Perhaps, but even the children love him. I was in town the other day and feared one of them would steal my purse, but they approached him instead. He ruffled their hair and gave them some candy. Everyone had the biggest smiles on their faces.”

“Mm, rich and good with children. How could such a man still be so utterly single?”

Their giggles died down as our host walked up to us. He had that same genteel smile on that he presented to all his marks. It matched well with his fitted coat and combed hair, but I missed the beard.

"Ladies, I'm so glad you were able to make it."

Several of the girls blushed, mumbling things along the lines of it was nice to see him again, and so on and so forth. Then he turned to me.

"I don't believe we've met."

Lady Westly jumped at the opportunity. "This is Clara Pennington. She has been staying with her cousin in Westford."

"It's a pleasure." He took my hand and kissed it, running his thumb along the top of my fingers when he knew no one else could see.

I didn't have to fake my blush, hiding it with a fan. He straightened with a knowing gleam in his eye. Were we alone, I would have smacked the smirk right off his face. And then kissed it better.

"The pleasure is all mine, Lord Harrison."

"I must say, Lord Harrison, your home is beautiful." Lady Westly said. "It seems you've had quite a few adventures."

"Ah, yes. I suppose I am fairly well-traveled." He said. His voice was smooth as silk, simply dripping with class. "But I felt it was time to find a home to settle in, perhaps settle down."

The girls around us giggled. I could see the schemes building in each of their eyes. Too bad for them he was already spoken for.

A wave of whispers crashed into us and I looked to the source.

Standing in the doorway of the ballroom was Sir Charles Lington. Adorned in a fine suit covered in the medals and patches that marked him as a master in his order, he cut an imposing figure. The people around him bowed deeply as he passed, more from fear than respect. He made his way directly to us, causing the rest of the ladies to disperse.

Harrison stepped forward. "Sir Lington, you honor us with your presence."

"Yes." he sneered. His face reminded me of a boar: always angry, ready to charge at anything deemed a threat. "I don't often attend such revelries."

In fact, he had a reputation for not attending any normal "revelries." It was the reason we'd had to spend the past several months fixing up the mansion, spreading rumors, and wasting money. He would only appear at the most outrageous events, and not with the intention of enjoying himself.

"Then I'm twice as honored to receive you."

A grunt. "I would have a word with you, when you have a moment."

"Of course. I have a few more guests to greet, so why don't you mingle with the young ladies here and I shall return shortly." He disappeared into the crowd, hoping Lady Westly would do exactly as she did.

"Sir Lington, may I introduce you to miss Clara Pennington. She has been visiting from the countryside, staying with her cousin."

I curtsied low. "May the stars and moon guide your steps."

A mild gleam lit his eyes. "You know the strictures."

"Yes, sir." I straightened, making sure to keep my eyes on his shoulder, as his order dictated. I'd spent so long studying the cursed organization, I was about to see if it was all worth it. "My mother is devout, even though there is no fortress where we live."

"I see." he patted his chest twice, a customary greeting. "It is good to hear that our strictures have reached so far. Have you been to the fortress in your time here?"

"I've not had the chance, I'm afraid. My cousin keeps my schedule fairly full."

"I would advise taking the time to come as often as possible." He said. His voice had softened just a bit. Maybe this plan would work after all. I discreetly signaled one of the "servants" who in turn signaled Harrison.

"I would like that. Perhaps I shall run into you there."

"Perhaps you shall."

Harrison came up. "Now, Sir Lington, I believe you wanted to discuss something?"

"Yes. Somewhere more private, if you please."

"Of course." He turned to Lady Westly and I with a sympathetic look. "Ladies, if you'll excuse us." We curtsied as they left.

Lady Westly turned to me with a sigh.

"That man is terrifying. You handled yourself well."

"He seems very dedicated to his order."

"Oh, he is. As stubborn and immovable as his appearance suggests. But enough of that, let's enjoy the party."

She led me back into the fray and we spent the night talking and dancing. I received three marriage proposals. Near the end of the night, I saw Harrison and Sir Lington return, Sir Lington making his way back out of the party. Harrison caught my eye and gave me a slight nod.

The next part of the plan rested on me.

***

The next day I began my careful attendance at the fortress. At first it was once a week. Then I began going twice. Eventually I was going every day, extending my time just a little bit each visit. The acolytes began to recognize me, greeting me each time I crossed the threshold from the sanity of the world into the madness of the order.

I was standing in the night sanctuary when Sir Lington finally approached me. He had been watching me for weeks, no doubt trying to gauge the authenticity of my devotion.

“Clara Pennington, I believe it was?”

I gave a curtsy as well as the double tap in greeting, making sure to keep my eyes on his shoulder as I straightened. “You remember well.”

“I’ve heard you visit frequently.” His voice was even, and it was difficult to make out his face in the darkness of the covered courtyard. They’d cut slits in a cloth to simulate stars in the middle of the day. One would think the sunniest country on the continent would be a terrible place for the headquarters of an order that served the dark, but here we are.

“Yes. I took your advice to visit and have found it a refreshing reprieve.” I turned to the canopy as if thinking of troubles. “Some days I find it difficult to leave.”

“The Dark brings a superb calmness with it.” He noted, closing his eyes and drinking in the stillness of the room. “I am pleased you can feel it.”

In truth, the whole place set me on edge. It was as if there were some monster hiding in the harsh corners, just beyond the touch of the light.

Waiting to devour the world.

The chime of the town bell echoed into the courtyard.

“Is it so late already?” I mused, straining my voice to sound flustered. “I have a dinner appointment to attend to, I’m afraid.”

He turned back to me. In the low light, his eyes gleamed. “Perhaps I shall see you tomorrow?”

I curtsied. “You can count on it.”

We talked multiple times over the next couple of weeks. He always approached, polite and intimidating at the same time. I always responded precisely as the order believed women should act. As a master of his order, he was powerful, even terrifying. As a man, he was inexperienced with romance and didn’t quite seem to know how to respond to the signals I was giving him. Once I was sure I’d hooked him, I began the next part of the plan.

It was near the end of the day, much later than my normal arrival time. I’d slapped my face a few times and forced myself to cry to redden my eyes and make them puffy. Making a show of sniffling, I sat in the night sanctuary, my face downcast and my posture slumped.

His footsteps came up behind me, hesitated, and then I felt him sit beside me.

“Good lady, what’s wrong?” he asked.

I let more tears well up in my eyes. “It’s… my cousin.” I shivered as if holding back sobs.

Surprisingly, I felt his warm hand on my back, an attempt at comfort. “What happened?”

A sniff. “She’s been sick for so long and now…”

He rubbed my back a little, clearly uncomfortable with the contact, but trying to be kind.

I continued. “The doctor says she is dying. He can’t help her.”

He recoiled as I broke down sobbing. To his credit, he kept his hand on my shoulder.

“What do I do? She’s suffered so much and I’m scared! I don’t know what to do!” My voice had risen above what is generally accepted in the night sanctuary, the sobs I forced out rocking my body and echoing around the room.

I glanced at him from behind my hands when he remained silent. Conflicted feelings played plainly across his face. Finally, he came to a decision.

“Be still.” He took my hand and pulled me to my feet. “The faith of the devout will not go unanswered. Come with me.”

We left the sanctuary behind, entering the shadow-filled halls. Up one flight of stairs, then another. More halls. I made sure to memorize every step, every turn. By my estimation, we were near the very center of the complex. Which means…

“Here.” He stopped me before an iron door with intricate designs on it, each an impressive rendition of the symbols of the order. He pushed the door open and stepped aside so I could see. I couldn’t help how wide my eyes became.

“Is that…?”

“Yes. Our most sacred relic. The Night Stone.”

The Night Stone.

This is what it’s all been about. This was why I was here in this horrid place.

I marveled at the sight of it, almost forgetting my façade in the process. In the center of a surprisingly small chamber was a pedestal and atop it was a diamond the size of my head. It had somehow formed to look like a four-pointed star and deep within its center was a perfect sphere of the deepest black I had ever seen.

“Come.” Sir Lington said, holding a hand out to me. “If you pray to the Night Stone, with good faith, surely your cousin will be saved.”

We approached the pedestal and I shuffled my feet. “I… do not know if I could form the words. Would you…?”

He gave me a smile, an odd effect of great effort on the part of his facial muscles. “Of course. Please.”

I knelt where he indicated on a well-worn cushion as he did the same next to me. Bowing my head, I closed my eyes just enough to appear shut, while I took in every detail of the Night Stone. As he droned on about health and salvation, I memorized the wave of the edges, the faint, almost imperceptible flaws, and the deep, unfathomable black. When he finished his prayer, we stood.

“Thank you, Sir Lington.” I made eye contact with him for a second, an intimate move he visibly noticed.

“O-of course.” He cleared his throat, leading me back out of the chamber. Once again, I committed each step to memory. We ended at the front of the fortress; the time for visitors not of the order had passed. “Please, go home and rest. I am certain that your prayers will be answered.”

A curtsy. “Thank you for everything.”

Back at “my cousin’s” house, I set to work. This forgery couldn’t be slap-dash or in any way thrown together. I had to make this near perfect and entirely from memory.

It took me nearly two weeks to complete, longer by far than any other forgery I had completed, interruptions notwithstanding. I continued my visits to the fortress, and Sir Lington became more and more comfortable taking me into the upper halls for a stroll. The long breaks in my creative process were irritating, but necessary to maintain our cover.

Finally, the day arrived. I’d sent a messenger bird to “Harrison” when I was finished and he responded in kind not an hour later. Everything was ready.

The weight of the fake Night Stone seemed to grow as I entered the fortress and performed all the usual rites. I fought not to fidget as I waited for Lington to appear.

Was he taking longer than usual?

What if he wasn’t even here today?

What if he discovered me carrying the forgery?

“Good lady, you seem distracted.” His voice nearly made me jump.

“I’m afraid I have a lot on my mind today. The world grows ever more distressing.”

He nodded his boar head solemnly. “Indeed.”

We made our way to the upper halls together without another word, the silent companionship our usual routine.

Outside the bells struck one.

“Might I ask: how is your cousin doing?”

I gave him a small smile and a quick flick of eye contact. “While she is still bedridden, I could swear I’ve seen more color in her face lately.”

“That’s good. I’m sure she will return to health shortly.”

Again, we sunk into silence as we continued our walk. Acolytes and others of the order passed us by, tossing me suspicious glances as usual.

The bells struck two.

Hurried footsteps approached. “Sir Lington! You are needed below.”

“What is it?” he asked, his voice immediately jumping to fierce.

“There is a group of people outside. They seem to be angry about something.”

Lington growled. “Now what?” He turned to me, adjusting the pin on my sleeve that marked me as his guest and therefore allowed to be on this floor. “Stay here. It will be safer.”

“Do you think they would resort to violence?” I clutched my heart and widened my eyes.

He grunted. “I would hope not. The last time did not end well for those against us.”

With that, he turned on his heel and marched away, leaving me alone in the corridor, shivering at his implication. Now was my chance.

Following the mental map I’d made, I made my way toward the Night Stone chamber.

A rumble passed through the stone of the floor. An explosion.

I slipped into a dark doorway as a rush of panicked acolytes headed downstairs.

Approaching the door and ensuring that I was alone, I tried to shove it open.

Locked.

Of course. They wouldn’t leave their most cherished relic in an unlocked room. Even though I distinctly remember it being unlocked that first time. Thankfully, I am always prepared for a locked door.

Pulling miniature lockpicks from the bun in my hair, I got to work on the lock. It was complicated. For every pin I set in place, there was a trap, fail safes set in place so that only the proper key could turn the lock. Or a very skilled lockpick.

It took me a solid minute, my slowest pick yet.

Finally inside, I left only the barest crack in the door to hear as I approached the pedestal. The Night Stone shimmered in the low light, somehow glowing and eating light at the same time. Circling the pedestal, I checked for any traps or alarms. None. How presumptuous to think only a complicated lock was needed to protect such a rich prize.

With a sense of reverence known only to skilled thieves, I lifted the Night Stone from its perch. It was lighter than I’d estimated. Setting the fake in its place, I took a few moments to fiddle with it, making sure it was sitting in exactly the right position, facing the exact right way and cursing the slight rumbles beneath my feet for their distraction.

Perfection.

Admiring my work for only a second more, I stepped out of the room with the Night Stone tucked away in a hidden pocket in my overly full skirts. I barely had the door locked again when a rough hand grabbed my wrist and pulled me nose-to-nose with a red-faced man.

“What are you doing here?!” He barked, his grip so tight I was sure it would leave a bruise.

Another explosion rocked the building. Had there been so many in the plan? Something felt off.

“I was already on this floor when the explosions started.” I tried to shift my arm so that he could see the pin on my sleeve. “I got scared and came this way.”

He sneered. “I don’t believe you.”

The floor vibrated and the wall disappeared, flames rapidly eating anything that would catch. The man let go of my arm as we both stumbled to the side. With the wooden beams disintegrating, the floor above us began to crumble. Stones tumbled down, and I blacked out for a second.

When I came to, I couldn’t move.

With my head pounding and vision wavering, I managed to move enough to see that I was pinned by rubble. Beyond my new rocky prison, I saw the man crushed, dead where he lay.

Shouting stabbed into me as figures approached, most focusing on the fire, one stopping before me. My breathing eased as stones were removed from atop me and I could take stock of the rest of my body. Blood seemed to be dripping down my face and cuts and bruises were everywhere else, a rather vicious-feeling one where the Night Stone pressed into my gut. My leg felt like it was on fire.

“Hold on, we’ll get you help.” The voice of the figure carrying me was that of Sir Lington. The sunshine made me blink as he carried me outside and I was able to get a hazy look at the aftermath of the mob. Bodies littered the street. It had gotten out of hand and a fear set in me.

Had he gotten caught in the fighting?

For the first time in years, I truly prayed. To whom, I didn’t know, but I wasn’t sure I cared as long as he was okay. Before I could finish my silent pleas, I fell unconscious.

***

“Miss, are you sure you don’t want us to throw out your dress?” A nurse asked as she helped me sit up straight.

I nodded, trying not to show my panic. Thankfully, when they’d cut me out of my dress, no one had discovered the Night Stone and the fabric looked heavy enough that the added weight of the Stone wouldn’t be unusual.

“The dress belonged to my grandmother. Damaged or not, it still holds sentimental value.”

She nodded. “I understand. I’ll make sure no one touches it.”

“Thank you.”

A knock at the door and Sir Lington stepped in. He greeted me. “I apologize again that we couldn’t treat you in our infirmary. Half of it was destroyed and the other half is full of our people.”

I shook my head, secretly grateful not to be trapped in that fortress while wounded, contraband hidden in my skirts. “I understand.”

Another set of footsteps approached. These I knew very well, and their sound filled me with such relief I had to keep myself from tearing up. A soft knock and “Harrison” entered.

“Sir Lington, I was told you were in here.”

“You were looking for me?”

“Yes.” He stepped around Lington, trying to look casual as he bowed to me, a quick sweep of his eyes to assess my injuries. “Excuse the interruption, Miss. I heard about what happened and wanted to offer my services, if they can be of help.”

Lington shook his head, the fierce order master once again. “That won’t be necessary. We will take care of our own.”

“I see.” He turned his attention to me, his eyes trying to convey a message without giving himself away. I was too drug-addled to catch it. “Again, I apologize for intruding. Excuse me.”

He disappeared. Lington returned his attention to me, but before he could speak again, one more person bustled into the room.

“My dear, I could hardly believe the news!” Lady Westly said as she brushed past Lington and sat beside me, taking my hand. “Are you alright? Does anything hurt?”

“They’re taking good care of me. I’m just a little tired now.”

She nodded, tossing a quick look back to Lington. The man thankfully had enough sense to pick up the meaning.

“I will check on you tomorrow. Please, get well.” He left the room and Lady Westly turned back to me.

“You’re a lucky girl, making it out of there with minor injuries. I walked by the fortress and part of the building has collapsed. I heard that five people died.” She said, patting my hand absentmindedly. “I’m sure that your parents didn’t expect this much excitement when they sent you here.”

As if she had summoned them, a messenger walked in and gave a deep bow as he handed me a letter. I recognized him as one of the crew we’d hired for this job.

“May I be nosy?” Lady Westly asked. I handed her the note and waited as she read through it. “Speak of the devil. I guess your parents really don’t want you around such excitement. Although tomorrow seems a bit soon. You need time to heal.”

“To be honest, I’d rather recuperate at home.”

“I don’t blame you, dear. Then I suppose this shall be our goodbye. Do visit sometime.”

“Certainly.”

It was before sunrise when “servants” arrived to help me into a fresh dress (into which I carefully transferred the Night Stone) and ushered me into a waiting carriage. I watched the sleeping town drift by as we left the buildings behind. Well out of view of the town, the carriage stopped and “Harrison” stepped in. He waited for the carriage to begin moving again before he pulled me gently into his lap. Dropping the mask of an eccentric playboy, worry shown in his eyes.

“Are you alright? It got out of hand. I’m the only one to blame.”

I snuggled into his shoulder. “We knew the risks. I’m okay, it’s not your fault.”

He held me close in silence for a while. For the first time in months, I felt safe. I didn’t want to break the moment, but there was something I needed to do. I shifted in his arms and reached into the hidden pocket of my dress.

“Besides, it was all worth it.”

I set the Night Stone in his hand and watched in wonder as he marveled at it.

“Amazing.” As the reality of what we’d accomplished set in, his smile grew. “We did it! I can hardly believe it!”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and shared in his excitement, laughter bubbling up. “So, what’s next?”

He sighed, content and holding me close. “I think we shall bask in our glory in isolation for a while. Then… well, we’ll see.”

“I think I like that plan. Let’s do it.”