The debate over the Duchy of Alverin lingered in my mind long after the lesson ended.

  Lord Therion Valmyr had dismissed us with the calm indifference of a man who had already learned everything he wished to know. Yet the brief look he had given me before leaving the study had been difficult to forget.

  Not suspicion.

  Not approval.

  Interest.

  My father had noticed it as well.

  That evening passed quietly. Cassian spent most of dinner arguing about cavalry formations with Maximilianos, while Lucien attempted to convince Ariadne that diplomacy was merely warfare conducted with fewer weapons.

  I listened and said little.

  The headache arrived shortly after midnight.

  By morning it had faded.

  A servant woke us before sunrise and informed us that Captain Varkas had arrived.

  The training yard lay beyond the eastern gardens of the Corvus estate.

  Morning mist still clung to the grass when we arrived. The stone walls surrounding the yard were dark with dew, and the racks of wooden practice swords looked like rows of unfinished spears waiting for war.

  Cassian stretched his shoulders impatiently.

  Lucien studied the yard with quiet interest.

  I watched the man waiting in the center of the field.

  He was taller than my father and built like a siege engine. His skin carried the dark bronze tone common among the tribes of the southern frontier, but it was the eyes that marked him as something else entirely.

  Gold.

  Sharp and steady.

  When he turned toward us the movement was fluid in a way that reminded me less of a soldier and more of a hunting animal.

  General Corvus stepped forward.

  “This is Kaelen Varkas.”

  The man inclined his head slightly.

  “A captain of the southern frontier armies,” my father continued. “And a warrior of the Panther Tribe.”

  Cassian looked impressed.

  Lucien looked intrigued.

  I studied the man’s posture.

  Predatory patience.

  My father folded his arms behind his back.

  “Captain Varkas will oversee your physical training.”

  Kaelen’s voice was deep but controlled.

  “You may call me instructor.”

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  His golden eyes moved across the three of us slowly.

  “I care little for titles.”

  Cassian smiled slightly.

  “That seems refreshing.”

  Kaelen did not react.

  “You will begin with the basics.”

  He gestured toward the racks of wooden weapons.

  “Take one.”

  Cassian grabbed the first practice sword he saw.

  Lucien selected his more carefully.

  I chose the lightest blade available.

  Kaelen watched our choices.

  “Strength is useful,” he said. “But strength without control wastes effort.”

  Cassian swung his sword experimentally.

  “It feels like a stick.”

  “It is a stick,” Kaelen replied.

  Cassian blinked.

  Lucien suppressed a smile.

  Kaelen continued.

  “If you cannot control wood, steel will only make you dangerous to yourself.”

  He stepped into the center of the yard.

  “Swordsmanship begins with movement.”

  For the next hour we practiced nothing that resembled fighting.

  Footwork.

  Balance.

  Posture.

  Kaelen corrected every mistake immediately.

  Cassian attacked each drill with aggressive enthusiasm.

  Lucien approached them like puzzles.

  I followed the movements carefully.

  Footwork was universal.

  Every battlefield in history had obeyed the same rules.

  Bodies moved.

  Balance failed.

  Blades followed.

  Kaelen eventually stopped beside me.

  “You have practiced before.”

  It was not a question.

  “A little,” I said.

  He studied my stance for a moment.

  Then he nodded once and moved on.

  Cassian noticed.

  “What did he mean by that?”

  Lucien shrugged.

  “Perhaps Allastor has secretly been fighting bandits in the woods.”

  Cassian snorted.

  The lesson continued.

  Eventually Kaelen clapped his hands once.

  The sound echoed sharply across the yard.

  “Enough.”

  He pointed toward the far gate.

  Two young men entered the yard.

  They wore the training armor of knight apprentices.

  Cassian’s smile widened immediately.

  “Finally.”

  Kaelen gestured toward them.

  “These are apprentices from the city garrison.”

  The two boys bowed briefly.

  They were older than us. Fourteen or fifteen, perhaps.

  Large enough to feel confident.

  Kaelen looked toward Cassian.

  “You first.”

  Cassian stepped forward eagerly.

  The apprentice facing him looked amused.

  The duel lasted less than a minute.

  Cassian attacked aggressively.

  Too aggressively.

  The apprentice sidestepped a wild swing and tapped Cassian sharply across the shoulder.

  Cassian stepped back, irritated.

  Kaelen said nothing.

  Lucien stepped forward next.

  His approach was more cautious.

  He moved carefully, watching the apprentice’s feet.

  The exchange lasted longer.

  Lucien even landed a light strike against the apprentice’s arm.

  But experience won the match.

  A quick feint and Lucien’s weapon was knocked aside.

  Kaelen nodded slightly.

  “Better.”

  Lucien returned to the line breathing harder than before.

  Then Kaelen looked toward me.

  “Allastor.”

  I stepped into the yard.

  My opponent smiled politely.

  “You are a little young for this.”

  “Probably,” I said.

  Kaelen gave the signal.

  The apprentice attacked immediately.

  Fast.

  Confident.

  I stepped back.

  The blade passed in front of my chest.

  Another strike followed.

  I retreated again.

  Testing distance.

  Watching his shoulders.

  The movements were familiar.

  Different weapons.

  Different armor.

  Same human patterns.

  He lunged again.

  This time I stepped to the side.

  My wooden blade tapped lightly against his wrist.

  The apprentice blinked.

  He attacked again.

  More carefully now.

  We exchanged three quick strikes.

  Wood cracked against wood.

  I blocked the fourth strike and slid my blade across his guard.

  A gentle tap against his chest ended the exchange.

  Silence settled across the yard.

  Cassian stared.

  Lucien’s eyebrows rose slightly.

  The apprentice looked more surprised than offended.

  Kaelen stepped forward.

  “Enough.”

  I lowered the practice sword.

  The instructor studied me carefully.

  “You do not rush.”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the other person usually will.”

  For a moment Kaelen said nothing.

  Then he nodded once.

  “Good.”

  He turned back toward the others.

  “Lesson finished.”

  Cassian frowned.

  “That was short.”

  Kaelen’s golden eyes shifted toward him.

  “If you wish for longer fights, survive longer.”

  Lucien laughed quietly.

  As we returned the wooden swords to the rack, I felt the familiar pressure building behind my eyes again.

  Another headache.

  Another memory pushing against the walls of the Hall of Lives.

  Somewhere inside those memories were battlefields older than this empire.

  But today had not been about war.

  Today had been about control.

  And control, more than strength, was what kept men alive long enough to become dangerous.