see how the mainsail sets (call for the captain ashore)
Lunafreya senses a maelstrom.
She’s sensed it before, in Regis’ city, but at the time assumed it nothing more than a small eddy of power, suitable for the king’s Glaives. She can sense the power in Nyx Ulric, after all, sense it in Captain Drautos, in each of the Glaives stationed around the room.
Nyx Ulric is gone now, his guard shift apparently over; he's been on edge even before she introduced herself to him. He's been replaced by a slim man with the haunted expression of daemon survivors, who stares through the contingent from Niflheim as though they don't exist. His gaze rests on Chancellor Izunia the longest, and she takes a moment to wonder, until she senses the maelstrom again, closer.
Her mistake in assuming that power to be solely Regis' magic is made clear to her when another Glaive stops in front of her, bows, and offers a note. His face is a perfectly polite mask, suitable for a gala such as this... on the side of the guests, not the guards. It's a subtle difference, but Luna knows it well. And when she looks into his eyes, something alien briefly looks back.
The maelstrom is within him, and she is the only one in this room who can detect it.
In the back of her mind, she thinks she hears crashing waves, and then the power retracts like the tide, leaving the Glaive only sharp edges and the taste of blood. She clutches the note in her fist, trying not to stare at him as her thoughts whirl around and around. A warning meant for the Oracle, she thinks, and then, He knows what he was meant to be.
The Glaive has shifted, she realises, blocking her from the view of the crowd, and she looks down at the note he gave her.
The Empire plans to have you kidnapped.
Short, brief, and interesting — she's lived under the Imperial thumb for more than half her life now, after all. Her mind whirls with thoughts and plots as she meets the Glaive's eyes again, and sees only fathomless black: the black, she thinks, of the deepest oceans. Magic swirls around him, collars him, and Lunafreya nods briskly. "I understand," she murmurs, and when the Glaive offers her his arm, she accepts. Clearly, at one point, the Empire had suborned the Kingsglaive from under Regis' nose; just as clearly, somehow, the Empire lost them. Or perhaps the Glaive chose to look after their own.
Either way, she has a chance to reach the other end of the board and cease to be a pawn. A queen, after all, can move wherever she pleases.
From the corner of her eye, she sees the Chancellor frown as the Glaive leads her away, but the Glaive hums a tune she doesn't know, magic crests, and several champagne glasses abruptly shatter. They slip away in the confusion.