Chương 168: What If We Had Met Earlier?

It was the night of the Queen Charlotte Ball, and Leo Chen stood in front of a full-length mirror in his hotel room. The cavalier uniform was midnight blue with silver piping that caught the light when he moved. High collar, fitted jacket, ceremonial sash draped across the chest. White gloves. Polished boots that clicked against the hardwood with every step. The door opened behind him. Hilda Walton stepped through, silver hair pinned in an elaborate knot, wearing a formal gown.

She stopped three paces into the room and studied him. Her eyes moved from boots to collar. Paused on the sash. Checked the gloves. She nodded once.

"You'll do." She turned toward the door.

"Follow me." Leo followed. The hotel lobby was chaos. Cavaliers in midnight blue crossed paths with attendants carrying hat boxes. A woman in pearls argued with a concierge about carriage assignments. Three debutantes clustered near the elevators, their white gowns taking up most of the available floor space while their mothers fussed with trains and hemlines. Leo spotted an etiquette coach in the corner, hissing last-second curtsy corrections at a pale-faced girl who looked ready to faint.

Near the front desk, a father loudly listed which Gold Core bachelors would be in attendance, counting them off on his fingers while his daughter stared at the ceiling. Hilda cut through the crowd without slowing. People moved out of her way. Leo followed in her wake, stepping around gown trains and dodging an attendant with an armful of ostrich feathers. The street outside was worse. Carriages lined the curb in a procession that stretched half a block. Lacquered wood and brass fittings.

Spiritual horses whose hooves struck golden sparks against the cobblestones. Formation arrays illuminating the wheel spokes.

"Vicky is already at the venue." Hilda gestured toward an empty carriage near the front of the line.

"I'll take you there." A footman opened the carriage door. Leo climbed in after Hilda. The door shut with a soft click, the formation script along the frame flared, and the carriage rose off the cobblestones and slid into the line of traffic. London drifted past the window, gray and gold in the early evening.

"Are you ready?" Hilda asked.

"I think so." Leo ran through the schedule in his head. Arrivals and receiving line first. Shake hands with people whose names he had memorized from flash cards. Smile. Make small talk. Then the pre-blessing reception. Champagne and conversation in a ballroom while the debutantes prepared. His job was to mingle, represent Vicky well, and avoid stepping on anyone's gown. The Queen's blessing came next. A private affair, debutantes only. Easiest part of his night. All he had to do was wait. The first dance.

He had drilled the steps until the etiquette instructor stopped wincing. Probably fine. Then the cavalier toasts. Leo's jaw tightened. He had written eight drafts. The etiquette instructor had rejected all of them. Too casual. Too American. Too much personality. She had provided an approved version, three paragraphs of formulaic praise that could have been written by a committee. Probably had been written by a committee. She had been very firm about not making any changes.

A disastrous toast would follow him for years. The tabloids would quote it. Aurelia's family papers would print it word for word with commentary. Vicky's season would end in humiliation. Hilda's deal would collapse. He had the approved toast memorized. Every word, every pause, every inflection. After the toasts came supper and general dancing. The schedule said supper began at eleven. Eleven. Leo reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small bag of peanuts. The wrapper crinkled as he started to open it.

Hilda's hand shot across the carriage and snatched the bag from his grip.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting ready. Like you said." He gestured at the confiscated peanuts.

"Last time I went to a fancy dance, the food was terrible and everyone ate beforehand." Hilda glared at him.

"The food is not terrible. It is a twelve-course supper prepared by the Royal Household kitchens. There are families on that guest list who attend specifically for the food."

"At eleven at night."

"You will survive until eleven." She tucked the bag into her clutch and snapped it shut.

"You will not be photographed eating gas station peanuts in a cavalier uniform on the palace approach." Leo sighed and looked out the window. The city scrolled past. Storefronts, pedestrians, the soft glow of streetlights. A billboard caught his attention as they turned a corner. Morimoto's face grinned down from thirty feet up. The old man stood beside Ever Enduring, both of them looking insufferably pleased with themselves. Behind them, text in bright green: WIN MILLIONS.

An Irish betting app logo filled the bottom third of the billboard. Leo's eyes found Morimoto's wrist. A tracking bracelet gleamed there, spiritual bronze covered in containment formations. The Irish got him locked down. Good. Hilda cleared her throat.

"There is a reason I took this ride with you." Leo turned from the window.

"I want to discuss the terms of our arrangement." She folded her hands in her lap.

"Before I spend weeks of intensive training, considerable spiritual qi, and significant money on your development, I need to know you understand what the Walton family requires in return." Leo sat up straight, brushed a crease out of his coat, and tried to look presentable.

"The Walton family objective for this ball is simple," Hilda said.

"We want Victoria and Prince Edward to marry." Leo's face did something he couldn't control.

"Marry?" He stared at her.

"I mean, I'm friends with both of them, sure, but the summer training camp starts in four weeks. How am I supposed to get two people married by..."

"Calm down." Hilda raised a hand.

"Your requirements are much smaller than that. The marriage is the family's project, on a timeline of years. Your part is one item. If, after this ball, the two of them agree to go on a single date, I will consider your end of the deal fulfilled. Completely. The training proceeds regardless of what happens after that." A date. Leo's shoulders dropped. That was easy. He thought about it for another moment. Vicky's face when she talked about being traded like livestock.

The way she had looked out the window of that Brixton gym and said she wanted to earn her place by fighting for it. A date probably wasn't something she would agree to easily. Even as a favor. He frowned.

"There is a problem." Hilda folded her hands.

"But also an opportunity. Edward's mother and I have been comparing notes. She is as invested in this match as we are. Her grandson has been unmarried for decades and refuses every candidate. Victoria is the best prospect to appear in years." Grandmother and mother, working together across an ocean to set up their children. Leo wondered if there was a group chat. Rich people were weird. But at least Edward and Vicky could walk away. The Grey Cult didn't offer that option.

He remembered Seraphindë in that tearoom, the dark circles under her eyes, explaining how she'd learned to love a man chosen for her before she was born.

"You left them alone in Mayfair," Hilda said.

"When the Queen's Guard pulled you aside. They spoke for fifteen minutes." The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. Leo nodded slowly. Hilda filled him in on what he hadn't heard. How Edward and Vicky hadn't recognized each other. How Jane had called Edward a museum exhibit, and Eddie had called Vicky a flyer who got eliminated thirty seconds into every game. How they'd laughed at each other's descriptions without realizing they were describing each other.

"This seems like a disaster."

"In one sense, it could be." Hilda's expression didn't change.

"In another, it represents an opportunity. They talked for fifteen minutes as strangers and enjoyed every second of it. This is the strongest evidence either family has that the match could be real." Her eyes met his.

"I am not expecting you to accomplish the impossible. I simply want their first formal meeting to become a funny story they can look back on fondly." She paused.

"Rather than an irreparable rift." The carriage slowed. Through the window, Leo saw gates opening. A drive lined with torches. The facade of Buckingham Palace rising against the night sky.

"Try your best." Hilda straightened her gown.

"That is all I ask." Leo nodded. The carriage settled onto the gravel. A footman's hand reached for the door. Leo stepped out into the London evening, adjusted his sash, and walked toward the palace.

The carriage line stretched the length of the palace approach, torchlight catching on lacquered doors and brass fittings. Leo stepped down into a crowd of midnight blue and white silk. He had a couple of minutes before the receiving line formed. Hilda's warning sat in his memory like a ticking bomb. Vicky and Edward were going to meet tonight, and based on everything Leo knew, that meeting was going to be a disaster. He needed backup for when it happened. He extended his divine sense across the approach.

Hundreds of signatures, most of them Foundation Establishment, a scattering of Gold Cores near the gates. He filtered for the one he had memorized two years ago when they first met in Berlin. There. Forty yards to his left, near the colonnade. Leo started walking. Halfway there, he passed a knot of raised voices and slowed. Penelope Ma stood in front of a herald in royal livery, a printed card held between them.

"Read it again," Penelope said.

"Miss Penelope of House Ma." The herald spoke with the patience of a man who had survived many such conversations today.

"Presented without heritage."

"Remove the last part."

"It is not an insult, madam. It is a category."

"It's an insult with good formatting. The Ma family funds three Catacombs garrisons and hosts multiple Nascent Souls. We outspend almost all of the legacy houses in this building."

"And when House Ma has held that position for two centuries, the College of Heralds will revisit the designation. Tencent is thirty-two years old..." Leo kept moving. Wang Liyang stood alone in the torchlight, hands clasped behind his back, face carefully neutral. He was pretending not to hear the argument.

"Liyang." Liyang's head turned. He saw Leo, nodded once in acknowledgment, then jerked his chin toward the herald's station.

"Busy."

"I need a favor."

"Of course you do." Liyang glanced toward the gates, where Penelope's argument was entering its second round.

"Speak quickly. I'm on duty." Leo lowered his voice.

"My debutante and her match had a conversation recently. They unintentionally said some things about each other that were, let's say, unkind. I need another man to help smooth things over if the situation develops." Liyang studied him for two seconds. Then he shook his head.

"No."

"I saved your life in Ashviel." Liyang was quiet for a moment.

"Yes. You did." His voice dropped.

"And I would pay that back. Any other night, you say the word, I'm there. But tonight Penelope is ranked third. By morning she will be ranked first. I have twelve brothers in Beijing who have not slept in forty hours to make that happen." His jaw set." I would rather die than betray their trust."

"That's very noble of you." Leo reached into his jacket pocket.

"But there are things worse than death..." Liyang's eyes tracked the movement.

"For example: social death." Leo pulled out his phone and unlocked it. Wang Liyang in a pink tutu. Sequins glittering. White feathers cascading from his shoulders. Arms extended in a crane pose. Liyang's face went white. He grabbed Leo's wrist and forced the phone down.

"Put it away." It came out as a hiss.

"Put it away. Are you insane? There are cameras everywhere."

"So we have a deal."

"You are a snake." Liyang's expression twisted.

"I acknowledged a life debt and you pull this." His eyes swept the approach, the photographers, the four hundred guests, the herald, and came back to the phone.

"Fine." Liyang straightened his jacket with short, violent tugs.

"What do you need."

"Watch for my signal. If things go sideways with my debutante, I may need you to step in." Liyang closed his eyes.

"Fine. But after tonight that photo is destroyed. In front of me. On your honor."

"We'll negotiate."

"I hate you." The argument at the herald's station had gone quiet. Liyang's head snapped around. Penelope was smoothing her gown, chin lifted, waiting. Liyang was already moving. He crossed the distance in four strides, composed his face into something supportive, and offered his arm just as the herald raised his voice.

"Miss Penelope Ma, of the Ma family. Presented without heritage." Penelope's expression flickered. Then she lifted her chin, took Liyang's offered arm, and swept toward the palace entrance. Leo watched them go. Backup secured. Now he needed to find Vicky.

Leo found Vicky near the colonnade, half-hidden behind a pillar, watching the carriages arrive with an expression he couldn't read. Her gown was white silk, fitted close through the bodice, the skirt falling in layers that caught the torchlight. Her hair was pinned up with something that sparkled. She looked like a princess. She also looked like she wanted to stab someone.

"Leo." She spotted him approaching and straightened.

"There you are. I've been standing here for ten minutes trying to figure out how to avoid the herald."

"You can't avoid the herald."

"I know I can't avoid the herald." She smoothed her skirt with quick, irritated movements.

"I was hoping for a miracle." Leo offered his arm.

"Come on. Let's get it over with." Vicky took his arm. Her grip was tighter than it needed to be. They joined the queue of debutantes and cavaliers moving toward the herald's station. Ahead of them, names echoed off the colonnade stone, each announcement followed by polite applause from the crowd already inside.

"Miss Catherine Blackwood, of House Blackwood, lineage of the Knights Hospitaller." The applause swelled. Legacy Sect heritage. A family that had been attending these events since before the American Revolution. Vicky's grip on his arm tightened.

"Breathe," Leo said.

"I am breathing."

"Breathe slower." They reached the herald's station. The man in royal livery consulted his list, found Vicky's entry, and raised his voice.

"Miss Victoria Walton, of House Walton, lineage of the Order of the Golden Fleece." The applause came. Polite. Appropriate. No warmer or cooler than the others. Leo felt Vicky's grip relax a fraction. Ahead of them, Penelope Ma turned around. Her eyes found Vicky, then the herald. Liyang leaned close and murmured something. She shook her head once, sharply, and kept walking. The receiving line stretched through the entrance hall, a procession of handshakes and murmured pleasantries that moved with glacial slowness.

Leo had memorized the names from flash cards. Now he matched faces to titles and cultivation levels, the information clicking into place as each new figure approached. Once they were through, the reception hall opened before them. Chandeliers hung from coffered ceilings, their light catching on crystal and gold leaf. Champagne circulated on formation-stabilized trays. A string quartet played in the corner. Leo guided Vicky toward a quiet alcove near the windows.

They needed a moment before the next round of socializing.

"You're doing well," he said.

"I'm dying inside." She took a champagne glass from a passing tray.

"But thank you for noticing."

"Penelope looked like she wanted to strangle you."

"The feeling was mutual." Vicky finished the champagne in one swallow and set the glass on a windowsill. She stared out at the palace gardens, torchlight flickering across manicured hedges.

"Leo."

"Yeah?"

"I need to tell you something." Her voice had changed. Quieter. Leo waited.

"My grandmother has a plan for me." Vicky turned to face him.

"Surprise. Everyone has a plan for me. This one's just bigger than the others."

"Okay."

"She wants me to marry Prince Edward." Leo knew this. Hilda had told him in the carriage.

"The match has been in development since I was seven," Vicky continued.

"Edward had his CFL breakout. My great-grandmother saw it on television, looked at me, and decided I was to marry him." She snapped her fingers.

"Everything since then was designed to make me into the kind of bride he would want." Leo said nothing. His chest felt tight.

"I didn't know any of this until last week." Vicky laughed, a short, bitter sound.

"I thought I was building something for myself. Turns out I was being shaped into a product."

"Vicky..."

"The worst part is that I can't even be angry about it." She looked at him.

"Because it worked. I am the kind of bride he would want. Everything I'm proud of, everything I thought I earned, it was all part of someone else's plan."

"I'm sorry," he said. It was the only thing he could say. Vicky shook her head.

"Don't be. It's not your problem. I just needed someone to know." She straightened her shoulders.

"Tonight I'm supposed to meet him for the first time." Movement caught Leo's attention. Two figures crossed the reception hall, heading directly toward them. Edward Windsor. Aurelia at his side. The prince's formal wear was impeccable. His smile was warm. Aurelia's expression suggested she would rather be anywhere else. Leo watched them approach.

"Miss Walton." Edward stopped before them and offered a small bow.

"I don't believe we've been properly introduced." Vicky's breath caught. The blood drained from her face. She knew that voice. Leo could see the recognition land, the exact moment Edward became Eddie. She looked at Leo. Leo had nothing. No plan. No clever angle. Just the guilty knowledge that he had left her alone with Edward in disguise, that Hilda had recruited him specifically to smooth this moment over. He shrugged helplessly. Vicky's expression went cold. She pulled her hand from his arm and stepped back.

Her jaw locked shut. Edward's smile faltered.

"Have I said something wrong?" Vicky looked at him. Looked at Leo. She did not open her mouth. The silence stretched. Aurelia's expression shifted from bored to interested. The string quartet played on. Somewhere across the room, champagne glasses clinked. Leo stood in the ruins of his assignment and watched Vicky's lips move silently, forming words she had already said once before.