He reveled in the rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins as his legs moved, crushing blades of grass beneath his feet. Even as sweat coursed down his brow in streams, he picked up speed, exulting in the ease of the motion.

It was the simple pleasures in life: the wind caressing his face like the touch of a lover, the steady stream of the sun on his scalp, the high of air pumping into his lungs, the sound of his irate mother yelling his name from across the field…

"Wallace Rudolph!"

Uh-oh.

Lord Wallace of the Western Kingdoms skidded to a quick halt, barely keeping himself from tumbling headlong into the cluster of blackberry bushes not six feet from him. Their thorns glinted menacingly in the early evening sun, as if daring him to take a few steps further. It wouldn't be the first run in with the ground he'd had this evening.

He paused for a moment, waiting for a second scolding, but it didn't come. Seconds passed, but there was not a second yell.

She's worried about something.

That ought to have been obvious from the way she had been acting all morning. As he trudged back toward the manor, he went through the checklist. Yelled at a servant? Check. Poor innocent Anita had been doing little more than daydreaming, but on a day like today, that was unacceptable. By the time his mother had finished her tongue-lashing, the poor girl was trembling like a leaf.

And ripe for a bit of comfort from a sympathetic ear. He couldn't suppress a bit of a grin.

Talked incessantly throughout a meal? Check again. During the midday meal, his mother had been very keen to hear all about his and his father's latest escapades – that is, if either of them had been able to get a word in edgewise. Barely had the answer to a question popped out of his mouth before his mother charged full speed ahead, onto the next topic at a truly alarming rate. This, in turn, had also made his father irritable. Though he hadn't expressed it, the man had grown increasingly red-faced throughout the meal, until he finally excused himself all together.

It was rare for his father to take something of that nature in stride. Such a scenario usually would have provoked a flare of temper. Further proof that something was amiss.

And finally on the checklist: use of his full name. It was on rare occasion that he experienced the full "Wallace Rudolph" treatment. On most occasions, formal or otherwise, it was merely "Wallace"; "Wally", only if she was feeling particularly affectionate.

As Wally came within sight of the house, he could see a flurry of activity near the front gate: servants bustled to and fro, carrying packages out of the front door, while the coachman circled the horses around, yelling instructions to the running footmen, who were loading all manner of things into carriages. In the midst of it all, Lady Mary stood out immediately, arrayed in a dress of gold brocade that caught the light as it moved. Her greying red hair was piled onto her head in an intricate knot of braids and curls, though a few stray strands had escaped, adding to the air of apprehension that suffused the air around her.

All of this ought to have meant something to Wally. As it was, he found himself thoroughly puzzled, with some vague intuition that today's transgression would be mildly worse than his typical impromptu runs.

When she saw him coming, there was a momentary cascade of relief that passed Lady Mary's face, quickly followed by a look that made Wally want to escape back the way he came.

"Wallace!" Because of her pale complexion, Lady Mary's face flushed easily. By the time she made it Wally, she resembled nothing so much as a ripe cherry – albeit a very, very angry cherry.

"Where have you been?" She hissed. She moved forward to take hold of his arm, but, upon a closer look at the state of him, thought better of it. "You look as though you've been dragged by a horse! What in heaven's name were you doing?"

"The bushes and I might have had a bit of an altercation at one point. I just went out for a run!" He jogged to keep pace with her as she bustled back into the house, dodging servants in every direction. "I cannot see why that should be so terribly problematic on a day when—"

"—on a day when we are expected to visit Lord Wayne?" She finished, whirling on him.

Oh.

"When every"—she picked a bristle from his clothing—"important"—and another—"dignitary"—she snagged one from his hair—"in the land is expected to be there?"

"Including His Royal Highness?" Wally asked apologetically. The sinking feeling in his stomach told him he already knew the answer.

Of course, that feeling could have just been hunger. He was always hungry.

"Including His Royal Highness," his mother echoed with a sigh of resignation. As if to prove her point, another stray curl escaped its confines.

"Then I shall make it my mission to make myself presentable as quickly as possible," Snaking through the parade of servants, Wally rushed to the stairs, though not before he had surreptitiously snagged an apple from one of the scullery maids. He grinned at his mother over the railing, hoping to get even the faintest smile back. All it yielded was a tired shooing gesture and a pursed lip.

Shrugging, he continued up the steps, taking them two and three at a time. Just last week, his mother had scolded him for it, saying that he was going to break his neck. But it had worked so far, so why stop now?

He barreled down the hallway and threw open the door to his chamber. A fresh outfit for the night's festivities was already spread out on his bed, mask and all in the house colors of gold and crimson. Shucking off his mud-spattered tunic, he tossed it aside and glanced out the window at the flurry of activity.

What was mother so worried about? Lord Wayne always greeted them with open arms, and the Prince was no less cordial. Both men had never shown any slight to their family.

Besides, if Lord Wayne and the Prince were in attendance, it meant that Richard and Roy would be there as well. And if anything were happening that would affect Wally's family badly, he would have known. They would have told him. They were, after all, his oldest friends.

…weren't they?

He shook his head, turning to the wash were his friends. His mother's unvoiced anxieties were not going to change his opinions about the two men he would trust with very life.

No, there was no need to worry. More important to focus on the task at hand. He scrubbed at his face, pulling away a thin layer of dirt and sweat. He had to be presentable, not just to please his mother, but also because he knew what a night at a masquerade ball meant:

Noblewomen.

And not just any noblewomen, but the very picture of perfection, the most graceful creature on this planet or any other: the lady M'gann.

The niece of the delegate from the Martian empire was nothing short of breathtaking. She was also a dancer of such skill that it put every other woman in the court to shame. Wally had proclaimed his intention to court her from the very moment he first glimpsed her angelic beauty three months prior, and he wasn't about to back down from it now. With the Prince in attendance, there was no doubt she and her uncle would be there. There wouldn't be a more perfect opportunity to make his intentions known.

Assured that he was sufficiently clean and free of any residue from his run, Wally changed into the formal garb. It was a bit stiff for his tastes – he preferred clothes more amenable to movement – but if it impressed M'gann, it would be worth it.

He gave himself one last scrutinizing look in the glass and ruffled his red hair a bit to give it the appearance of styled carelessness.

Perfect. She wouldn't be able to resist him.

Artemis stood at Richard's side as a sea of color flooded into the open courtyard. In the soft lantern light coupled with the last glimmers of the setting sun, sequins and jewels glistened, winking like captured stars. All of the faces were hidden behind masks of varying complexity, revealing only smiling mouths and glittering eyes. If Artemis had been among strangers before, she felt it all the more strongly now. The masks made the courtiers look like statues: distant, impersonal, but beautifully carved.

As she watched the procession, the absence of a mask drew her gaze. Near the entrance to the courtyard, a tall, blonde man with a mask composed of what looked like seashells entered, followed by an unmasked young man with dark skin and no family crest. As his sovereign greeted Lord Wayne with a solemn bow and handshake, the young man took a survey of the room, light eyes scanning every corner.

What is he looking for?

"You are staring."

A light voice near her ear made her jump, and she had to fight down the flush rising to her cheeks. She had been so distracted by the arriving guests that she had almost forgotten her companion for the evening.

Richard's mouth contorted, trying to suppress the smile that was rising to his lips, but it failed. He nodded across to the unmasked man.

"Well? Do you know him, or are you merely surveying your prospects?"

"Hmph!" Artemis's tan skin reddened with outrage. "I can't imagine why you would even suggest such a thing!"

Richard chuckled, taking a sip of his wine.

"Just a thought."

Artemis took another look at him. The young man was not unpleasant to gaze upon. As a matter of fact, he was quite well muscled, with strong facial features. Still, he wasn't her type.

"Absolutely ridiculous of you. If I were pursuing him," Artemis said coyly, "I would make my intentions known immediately."

The comment provoked exactly the reaction Artemis had been hoping for. The wine in Richard's mouth went down the wrong way, and he spluttered to keep from spewing it all over his doublet and her gown. What hadn't gone down his windpipe burned the roof of his mouth – when he finally managed to swallow, he gasped for breath, turning as red as the remaining liquid in his glass.

Artemis gave him the same mischievous smile he had directed at her only moments before.

"My, I didn't know the ward of Lord Wayne was such a…" she tapped a gloved finger against her chin. "….prude."

"I am not!" he said, perhaps a little too quickly. The smile settled into her face, making her look not unlike one of the kitchen cats when it had captured a particularly slippery mouse.

"Well." She said. "It appears we were both mistaken then, Lord du Gray. But pray tell, who is the supposed object of my desire?"

Richard raised an eyebrow, clearing the last remnants of the wine from his throat before he spoke. She could see him weighing his answer, as if he was calculating how much to tell her. Even through their brief interaction, she knew she had provoked his curiosity. It was uncommon for a princess of the realm to know so little about the ways of the court.

"His name is Kaldur'ahm." He finally answered. "An old friend of mine, and a brave fighter. You would not meet a more loyal man."

"He's Atlantean." For the first time, she noticed the minute ridges along the skin of his neck, one of the stranger aspects of Atlantean physiology.

She realized she must have said something strangely, because Richard was staring at her, not unkindly, but with a sort of curiosity. Perhaps it was best to turn the conversation away.

"You know, if my uncle was planning this as my formal introduction to the court, I think he made a grave miscalculation."

Richard's brow furrowed. Apparently, the change had been a sufficient distraction.

"How so?"

"Look around," she gestured widely at the room. Masked faces milled about; the sound rose with every passing minute, punctuated with peals of intoxicated laughter and men bellowing loudly about their latest campaigns. In the corner, musicians were tuning their instruments, plucking out strings of notes that stretched like shimmering film into the air, hanging for a moment before they dissipated.

"Everyone is masked," she added when Richard failed to supply a guess. "If he was planning to introduce me to the court, it was…" She pursed her lips, but let the sentence hang in the air. What was it, exactly? Despite his geniality, Oliver was not the most communicative of people. She still had not quite figured out his motivation for bringing her here, though she had her suspicions.

"That does rather put a damper on things," Richard agreed absently.

Artemis glanced over at him. It was as though he had completely forgotten she was there. Behind his mask, his gaze was trained on something in the distance, and his mouth had fallen open slightly.

"Now who's ogling the guests?" She chuckled quietly. He didn't appear to hear. He was much too fixated on a figure that slipped through the crowd near the opposite corner of the room. Artemis couldn't quite catch sight of the girl, only a flickering hint of a blue cloak, and the fluttering trail of a black skirt.

"Well." She turned away, letting Richard continue to stare. While he was distracted, she took the opportunity to continue with her survey of the room. Though it was hard to discern much of anything through the kaleidoscope turn of skirt flounces and trailing capes, there were a few faces she recognized. The mild looking man with the kind eyes and gentle bearing was surely Lord Kent. From what she knew, he was not an outspoken man, preferring to keep to himself on most occasions. Still, she had never heard a bad word said against him, which was quite a feat, even with the little she knew about court life. He was speaking to a tall man who could only be the Martian delegate. Artemis knew embarrassingly little about the Martian culture, aside from the fact that it was as different from their own culture as night was from day. Still, it was impossible to mistake the imposing man, with his sharp features and solemn demeanor, unmasked despite the festivities.

Over near the door, a family was entering, decked in flashy garments of crimson and gold. The colors seemed familiar, but she couldn't quite place the crest. Hopefully someone else would drop a name later on.

A change swept over the room as the musicians finished tuning their instruments. Without so much as a flourish, they launched into a spirited tune, turning several heads. The beat set Artemis's foot tapping – she wasn't much of a dancer, but she could appreciate a good tune.

Prince Oliver, in the meantime, wasted no time in coercing a blonde woman in a dark dress onto the dance floor, walking through the steps superbly to a smattering of applause.

That man is a peacock. She shook her head fondly, unable to keep a smile from her face as she watched him whirl. It was an intricate dance, and she found herself caught up in the rhythm of it, her head circling as more dancers joined in the fray, a whirling array of smiling faces and rustling costumes.

And then she saw it.

Over in the corner of the room, a cat's mask caught her eye. White, with red stripes, just like…

She whirled, grabbing Richard's arm with a vicelike grip. He startled out of his reverie, looking down at her in alarm.

"What is it, what's wrong?"

"Did you see that?" Her hand still on his arm, she dragged him across the side of the room, weaving through people to reach where she had seen it. Richard tried to protest, but his concerns were unintelligible through the din of conversation and music. Besides, Artemis had no time to waste.

But when she reached the place where she was sure it had been, there was no sign of the feline features that were so familiar.

"Lady Artemis, I must insist you tell me what's going on!" Richard said, following the line of her gaze. "What did you see?" He pulled away slightly, rubbing at his arm where she had grabbed him. "Should I report something to Lord Wayne?"

Artemis slumped visibly, confusion shining across the unmasked portion of her face. She had been so sure, but… she looked over at Richard, who was looking at her with an expression of utter bewilderment.

She sighed. Even after all this time, must these shadows still haunt her?

"No… no, I must have simply been imagining it."

You must be vigilant this night, Kaldur. Strange times are upon us.

Kaldur'ahm had been contemplating that particular piece of cryptic advice since the moment he arrived at the Wayne manor. His King had offered little explanation, but Kaldur knew it could not be simply ignored. If the King anticipated that something was to happen at this gathering, there was no doubt that they needed to be wary.

Besides, he had never much cared for masquerade balls. They were too frivolous for his tastes, and offered too many opportunities for deception. Behind any of those masks could lurk an assassin.

A sudden burst of movement caught his eye. Behind the whirl of the dancers, a girl cut through the crowd with unusual haste, towing a young man after her. She stopped near the back of the courtyard, scanning around her with a look of alarm. After a moment of staring, Kaldur realized he knew the man. He had known Richard for years, after all. But who was the girl? She wore the green of the Vespeccian royal house, but…

Kaldur frowned. What had she seen?

Perhaps, he thought, it was time to make a new acquaintance.

A/N: Wow, you guys have been amazingly supportive of this little venture. Many thanks to Tala White 14, Batgirl666, traught fan, SultanaV, Eastmangirl, My Note Book, Queen Sound, and spitfireforever, as well as everyone who faved/followed. You all are awesome!

As always, reviews are treasured.