There was so much to piece together that Kess sat there for a moment, exhausted and overwhelmed. A few Stormclap players tried to inch over to her for a game, but she waved them off. More than anything, she craved her bed. Perhaps she’d bitten off more than she could chew so soon after her Fulminancy had bitten off a piece of her. Claire would absolutely have a fit if she knew what I’d done, Kess thought, picking up her wineglass.

  Still, she had further information about her Stormclap mystery, and something else as well—Reina’s mention of a way to transfer Fulminancy. Kess was certain it was a fairy tale, but her mind stuck to it stubbornly. With that, I could be…Normal? Kess had been searching for a way to be rid of her Fulminancy since she’d discovered it, but had she ever really searched? Not like Rowan, she realized. Instead, Kess had taken a path which neither led her to mastery nor freedom from her powers. She’d made herself a slave to them.

  Would I be willing to let go of them if I had a way? She wondered. It seemed like a simple solution to a nearly impossible set of problems. But Kess had often found that easily solved problems weren’t solved at all.

  Kess left her wineglass at the table and sought Rowan, ready for the night to be over. It only took a few moments of searching in the ballroom before she heard a booming voice ring out.

  It was hard to miss the yelling man as Rowan’s father. Whatever his mother looked like, Rowan had inherited the man’s curls, handsome face, and height, though his father’s features held a bitter slant, and his darker eyes bore none of the warmth of his son’s. His father’s booming voice also held little resemblance to Rowan’s softer, more thoughtful tones. Kess wove her way through the crowd, hoping that her presence would soothe the man instead of provoke him.

  “Boy, why are you still here, darkening my doorstep? I meant it when I got rid of you.” The man took a sip of his wine as Kess slid next to Rowan, linking her arm with his. He startled, but the gratitude in his face was evident.

  “I have my own interests in attending court, father.”

  “I’ve heard all about your interests,” he snapped. “What business could a Dud possibly have with Fulminant lights?” Kess flushed at that, her mind taken back to the insults she’d hurled at Rowan well over a month ago now. She’d had no way of knowing that what she said would cut so deep, but guilt slithered into the back of her mind all the same. “This is a Fulminant court, Rowan,” his father continued. “Whether you have something to contribute or not, the men and women who have Fulminancy make the rules. Even Dolen knows that.” He jerked his head towards a distasteful man Kess knew ran some of the worst rings in the city, Fulminant or not. “You’d do well to learn his ways if you want to survive here. He brings the Fulminant offerings, and we suffer his presence for a good fight or two.” He took a sip of wine, his eyes drifting to Kess’s sash with a note of disgust. He wore his family’s own black sash—the highest afforded to him without being old nobility—alongside his red and blue sash.

  “With all due respect, father, many of the ungifted call this court home. To suggest that they have nothing to offer is disrespectful at best and treasonous at worst. What do you suggest? That I do all my business outside of court, with no one to open their coffers? It would be financial suicide.”

  “I would suggest, boy, that I know better than anyone what your lot has to offer. Overpriced lanterns aside, you’re still a Dud, and you’d do well to learn your place. Quite frankly, you’d be better off rolling in the dirt with the wetboots.” Kess scowled at the insult. It was based on the idea that the Downhill didn’t have the money or the resources to keep their own boots dry when Floodstorms barreled through. Like most insults, it stung because there was some amount of truth to it.

  The older Northmont cocked his head. “Perhaps you could still be a Bloodcrawler, but well, you’re a little attached to your sword and a little afraid to get your hands dirty, aren’t you, son?”

  Kess felt Rowan’s muscles go taut in his arm, but he said nothing. Kess had no such reservations, and the words were out of her mouth before she could rethink them. “I find it hard to believe that you would do any better,” she said, words clipped. The man laughed at her.

  “Here now, your whore has a mouth on her, doesn’t she?” Kess took a step forward, but Rowan tugged her back with his arm, warning in his eyes, his motion subtle enough that his father missed it. “My dear, you should know as well as I do that I wouldn’t be fighting with my fists. I’d be fighting with my Fulminancy.” He held up his hand, bringing a spark to life in it and allowing it to twine between his fingers at remarkable speeds. Kess stared. It was something she’d only ever seen Seats do, and even then, only rarely. The action was small, but it spoke volumes: Rowan’s father was on another level, far out of her reach—or anyone else’s, for that matter. He smirked, the grin a slimy thing that spread across his face.

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  “You see what you’re dealing with now, girl. You’re foolish, perhaps, but wiser than my son.”

  “Your son is not a fool,” Kess said, voice dangerously quiet. “Few fools are born from adversity, but I know quite a few who were born from a life of luxury.” The man sniffed at her, Fulminancy still dancing in his hand. His eyes drifted to her sash.

  “You wear your colors like they’re new to you. You’ll find that mine are not new to me if you choose to stick your nose into my family’s business again.” His Fulminancy snuffed out, and he turned to Rowan. “Your mother and I are ashamed of you. Do us both a favor and stay far away from this court.”

  He turned to walk away, but not before Kess felt something creep up deep inside of her, a well of power she hadn’t touched since Draven’s death, even during the Stormclap game. She panicked, stuffing it away, her grip tight on Rowan’s arm, but not before a loud crack of lightning and a low roll of thunder rumbled overhead. Some of the court ladies shrieked and giggled at the sound, and quite a few heads turned towards the ceiling, mumbling.

  “That’s strange,” Rowan’s father said, turning just enough to look over his shoulder at them. His eyes flicked towards the ceiling. “It seems to me it’s the wrong season for that.” His gaze fell on Kess, something like understanding there. “Your pet isn’t quite house trained yet, Rowan,” he said. “I’d take care of that if I were you.”

  He walked into the crowd as the thunder finished its grumbling and the rain returned in full force overhead. Kess and Rowan stood there, still linked, for several moments before Kess finally broke the silence.

  “Well, he seems charming.” Rowan let out a laugh, but there was no humor in it.

  “I’ve been dreading that meeting for years now. I suppose that might have gone better if you were—“

  “Willing to watch abuse? I do seem to lack that ability.” She walked with Rowan as he led the two of them towards the dimmer edge of the room. “Is there any particular reason why you didn’t tell me your father has Seat-level powers?” Something darkened in Rowan’s expression, but he shrugged.

  “It didn’t seem relevant.”

  “I seem to recall someone saying that hidden magical powers are always relevant.”

  “Well, they’re hardly hidden, as you could see,” he said, jerking his head in the general direction of the conversation. Kess chewed her lip as they stood near a wooden pillar, the carvings ornate.

  “Do you think he’ll notice that—“

  “That you’re new to the occupation?” he finished, glancing at her sash. “He already did. Fortunately, lots of Fulminant test for their red and blue sash before they really have everything under control.”

  “That seems counterintuitive,” Kess said, frowning as she leaned against the nearby wall.

  “Yes, well, money talks.” Kess watched the partygoers for a moment longer, their dresses and suits a shining whorl of color over the deep browns of the hall. She let out a sigh and asked Rowan what had been bothering her for years.

  “Rowan.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Have you ever met a Fulminancer who can interact with the weather?” Rowan’s expression turned from distant and sad to sullen.

  “Before you, no.”

  “So you noticed then,” Kess said, resigned. She had always tried to dismiss the lightning and thunder as coincidence, but it was rather hard to do so during Floodstorm season. Beside her, Rowan leaned against the wall himself and snorted.

  “It’s hard not to notice when lightning plays with you, Kess.” She opened and closed her mouth a few times in shock before replying.

  “When are you spying on me?” Rowan looked at the ceiling, sheepish.

  “I wouldn’t call it spying exactly. When you first came to the manor, I kept an eye on you.” He caught her look of irritation and added, “I don’t do it anymore.”

  “Well, it’s not like I’d be allowed to get into any trouble with Claire right there anyway,” she mumbled. She pushed a curl back from her face, suddenly aware of how tired she was. Whatever she had shown Rowan’s father, it couldn’t have been a good thing. But there was no taking it back now. And there was the added matter of Reina’s strange conversation to deal with.

  “Speaking of trouble,” Rowan said, turning her towards him, “I don’t recall Stormclap being part of our plan tonight. You’re the color of a glass of milk, Kess.”

  “Well, I almost won,“ Kess muttered, avoiding his gaze.

  Rowan opened his mouth to argue, but paused as a voice rang out over the ballroom.

  “Rowan!” Both of them looked up and were immediately disappointed by the approaching man. Furion hurried over to them, wiping at his sweaty head with a handkerchief. “I have dinner arranged for us all, as requested,” he said, passing Rowan an envelope. “Don’t be late, and…” he trailed off, looking at Kess from head to toe. “Wear something nice.”

  He licked his lips, something proprietary in his gaze, and this time Kess didn’t fight to keep her Fulminancy away. Rowan took her hand, smiling graciously at Furion, but not before a crack of lightning echoed overhead, and Furion squealed. “The weather is absolutely frightful these days, wouldn’t you two agree?” he asked, his eyes turned towards the ceiling in fear. He hurried off, his handkerchief still in hand.

  “You know,” Rowan said. “I’m beginning to like that aspect of your powers.”

  “That makes two of us,” Kess replied, grinning.

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