Miles shook his head as he surveyed the guests. "It hasn't been two weeks yet."

"Y'know, Lord Auditor Coz, you're taking this too far. You and Gregor." He jabbed an hors d'oeuvre at the lively ballroom. The clamor brightened the subdued atmosphere of the Imperial Residence's next largest hall. Miles had to admit that the "informal dinner" in honor of the--- the Imperial Conception was turning out to be a bigger event than even the Emperor's Birthday Dinner. Vor were mixing openly with non-Vor, in a social setting, for the first time since the wedding. Allegre had his hands full tonight.

"It's going to be two weeks tomorrow," Ivan added, with his mouth full.

"Yes, and tomorrow Laisa will transfer the prince into a replicator," Miles muttered. His Betan mother had been ecstatic about the news. The vid from Sergyar had not done justice to her wicked grin.

Speaking of his parents, Count and Countess Vorkosigan were having a lively chat with Ekaterin in one of the alcoves. Miles was glad they were getting on well. It might a matter of time, and maybe he'd hold a dinner like this, soon… just as soon as she made up her mind…

"Anyway, I think you should snap out of it, Coz. Why don't you dance with Ekaterin? I mean, at least you've got a date," Ivan said, a little bitterly.

For once, Miles swallowed a sarcastic rejoinder. More than one. 'Best not to rub it in,' he thought, as he crossed the room towards Ekaterin. His lady, at last, if only she'd hurry up--- be fair, Vorkosigan. Start with the dances, and work your way up. Surely a more urgent matter on Miles's agenda, even though ImpSec had failed to produce the comconsole culprit. Or his afternoon visitors---

A familiar brown-haired woman waltzed past. Somberly she winked at Miles. She's cut her hair. Shocked, his hand shot forward as a bright red blossom dislodged from her elaborate coiffure. In an instant she disappeared into the crowd, leaving Miles with a handful of blood-colored petals.

Again his thoughts were inexplicably delayed. Brown hair, shot with red. Whom do I know that matches that description? He examined the flame-colored petals, which had brought out those auburn highlights... he regained his composure. Shit, she was headed towards Gregor!

Just as he opened his mouth to yell, sirens went off.

Miles was so busy dodging the ensuing stampede --- damned dress swords --- that it took several precious seconds for it to click.

"A siren! That isn't in ImpSec's protocol!" He fought his way through the panicked crowd. "Four targets... Ekaterin! Ekaterin!"

A burst of plasma snapped across the room. Screams. The scent of burning--- Miles fought a wave of terror and combat flashbacks as he made his way to the alcove. It was empty.

My God, that plasma burst was aimed at Gregor's table! Miles's ImpSec instincts kicked in, and he wove his way to the far end of the room.

ImpSec guards surrounded the raised platform, blocking his way. One of them recognized him, and said, "I'm sorry, my Lord Auditor, you may not pass. We have the situation under control."

"Like hell!" Miles scrambled under the man's legs. Just before the Palace Guards grabbed him, he caught a glimpse of the tall, beautiful woman sprawled on the floor, her long brown hair drenched in red blooms and blood.