The Longest Night Masquerade at Cereus House had been more than Niklos could have dreamt of. Certainly there had been stories he had heard, and rumors as well, but nothing could really compare to being there himself. The tables had fair groaned under the weight of the food, and the ballroom of Cereus House had been bedecked as a winter forest. The costumes were stunning, as Markus nò Eglantine had promised when Niklos had picked up the outfit the adept had designed for him three days before the Longest Night, as the couturier swore he would be far too busy to meet Niklos at any time closer to the event. And with what Niklos had seen the adepts of Eglantine adorned in, it was no lie. The freedom afforded the adepts was surprising, though he knew of the traditions of the Longest Night. A number of the adepts that he had made acquaintance with over his Grand Tour had stopped to greet him as well, which he felt boded well for his hopes to continue pursuing them. The Masquerade, performed to renew the Winter Queen by her Sun Prince, had been moving. Niklos had almost found himself crying. He’d seen it before, either at one of the Shahrizai holdings or within his parents’ home, but to see it at Cereus House was something different. Something almost holy. The Winter Queen was, as usual, represented by a Cereus adept, and this year her Prince was a Mandrake. Niklos wasn’t sure if that prophesied anything for the year, but both adepts had done a beautiful job of things, and he was honored that he had been invited to witness the event.
“I really must send a thank you to Cereus House,” Niklos thought to himself as he crossed the atrium of the townhouse, “addressed to both Petrea and Aliksandria. One of them was responsible for my invitation, but it is always a good idea to keep all pathways open.” Calling for tea and some food, Niklos headed to the stairs to the bedrooms. The letter could wait until he woke up, though he would leave himself a note to not forget it.