I left the garden of the North Pavilion without looking back.

  The corridor felt colder than before.Or maybe that was just me.

  Mother's words were still turning in my head.

  From now on, no one will be able to pretend that what happened this morning meant nothing.

  I hated that sentence.

  Because it sounded too true.

  I crossed two galleries without really knowing where I was going. Servants stepped aside when they saw me. A guard bowed. Farther ahead, a tall window overlooked the city.

  I slowed.

  Below the palace, the capital of Aurelis spread beneath the midday light. Pale rooftops. White domes. Inner courtyards. Beyond the walls, the roads of the kingdom of Helion ran down toward the hills and the lower lands.

  The palace stood above all of it.

  As if it could see everything.

  As if it could hold everything together.

  I stayed there a few seconds too long.

  Then I moved on.

  I did not want to go back to class.I did not want to talk.I did not want to think.

  In the end, I found my way to a small secondary training yard that was almost empty at this hour. It was not the main yard where the heirs and elite guards trained. Just a simpler place, with two wooden dummies, a weapon rack, and stone tiles worn down by years of strikes.

  It was enough.

  I picked up a training sword.

  The wood felt too light.

  I took my stance.

  Then I struck.

  Once.

  Then a second time.

  Then again.

  The first strike was too hard.The second was too fast.The third was bad.

  I knew it.

  I struck again anyway.

  My bandaged hand was already starting to ache.

  I struck once more.

  Then a voice rose behind me.

  "If you bleed for nothing, no one will remember it."

  I turned at once.

  A man stood beneath the entrance arch.

  Tall. Straight-backed. Hard-faced.

  He wore the white-and-gold uniform of the royal guard without a single useless detail. Even standing still, he seemed to take up more space than other men.

  I knew him immediately.

  Everyone in the palace knew his face.

  Dareth.

  The king's right hand.

  I lowered my sword a little.

  "Do you always talk like that?"

  He walked a few steps closer.

  "Only when I'm given a good reason."

  I looked down at my bandaged hand.

  A small red stain was already starting to spread through the cloth.

  I clenched my jaw.

  "I'm fine."

  "That isn't what I said."

  He stopped a few steps away.

  His eyes moved to my shoulder. Then my feet. Then my hand.

  Not curious.

  Assessing.

  "Your right arm is too high," he said. "And you're putting too much weight on your front foot."

  I frowned.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "Did you come here just to correct my stance?"

  "No."

  He paused.

  "But now that I've seen it, I don't feel like ignoring it."

  I said nothing.

  Dareth looked at the training sword in my hand.

  Then at the dummy in front of me.

  "You strike like someone trying to break something. Not like someone trying to win."

  My grip tightened on the hilt.

  "And the difference?"

  "If you break something, it relieves you for a second.If you win, it changes something."

  Silence settled between us again.

  I did not like the way he spoke as if he knew me.

  I liked even less that part of me was listening anyway.

  I raised my guard again.

  "Were you following me?"

  "No."

  I looked up at him.

  He went on, expressionless.

  "But the palace keeps its eyes open. Especially when it starts to feel that something is no longer right."

  I stood still.

  This time, my chest tightened a little more.

  He had said it simply. Without threat. Without explanation.

  Like a fact.

  I glanced toward the dummy.

  "So that's it?" I said. "I'm being watched now?"

  "Now?"

  That one word made me look back at him.

  Dareth did not move.

  "You think that started today?"

  I did not answer.

  Because I hated that answer immediately.

  He stepped closer again.

  Not too close.

  Just close enough to take another training sword from the rack beside him.

  "Take your stance again."

  "What?"

  "Your stance."

  I did not move right away.

  Then I reset my feet.

  Dareth lifted his own wooden sword.

  Not in a dueling position.

  Just to show me.

  "Your shoulder," he said.

  I lowered it slightly.

  "Your front foot."

  I corrected it.

  "Your wrist."

  I let out a breath through my nose.

  "You're doing this on purpose."

  "Yes."

  "Why?"

  He looked at me for a second.

  Then answered,

  "Because angry boys like to think they're improving when they're really just hurting themselves."

  My jaw tightened again.

  "I'm not a boy."

  Dareth barely lifted a brow.

  "Today, you are."

  He raised his sword a little.

  "Strike."

  I did.

  He stopped the blow without effort.

  "Again."

  I struck a second time.

  Same result.

  "Again."

  The third strike was cleaner.

  Not good.

  But less bad.

  Dareth took half a step back.

  "Better."

  I lowered my sword slightly.

  "Do you do this with every child in the palace?"

  "No."

  "Then why me?"

  This time, he took longer before answering.

  "Because you look at things like someone who wants to understand. Not just someone who wants to become strong."

  I had not expected that.

  Not from him.

  He must have seen something shift in my face, because he added at once,

  "Don't take it as a compliment."

  "Too late."

  For one second, something close to amusement flickered in his eyes.

  Then it was gone.

  I looked down at my hand again.

  The cloth was redder than before.

  Dareth noticed too.

  "Put that down," he said.

  "I can keep going."

  "I know.Put it down anyway."

  I set the sword back on the rack.

  Dareth held out his hand.

  "Your hand."

  I stayed still.

  "You're going to report me to Mother because I tied a bad bandage?"

  "No," he said. "If I wanted to report you, I would have let you keep going."

  I handed it over despite myself.

  His movements were quick. Clean. Not gentle, but precise.

  He untied the cloth, looked at the reopened wound, then took a clean strip from a small wall box.

  I watched him work.

  "You know how to do that?"

  "Well enough to stop someone from bleeding stupidly."

  The new bandage was done in a few quick movements.

  Much better than mine.

  When he finished, he let go of my hand.

  "There."

  I looked at the result.

  "It's better."

  "Yes."

  The word almost pulled a smile out of me.

  Almost.

  Then I thought of the morning again. The garden. Mother. Astraea. The blackened target.

  The almost-smile vanished before it could fully appear.

  Dareth watched me for another second.

  "What is eating at you the most?" he asked.

  I frowned slightly.

  "What?"

  "The fear?The anger?Or not knowing?"

  I stayed silent.

  Because this time, I really did not know how to answer.

  Dareth nodded once, as if my silence had been enough.

  "Yes," he said. "Usually it's that."

  I looked up at him.

  "You know a lot for someone who talks so little."

  "Talking less helps you hear the rest."

  I looked at the wooden dummy.

  Then my hand.

  Then him.

  "Did Father send you?"

  Dareth did not answer right away.

  "The king gives orders. I carry them out."

  "That still isn't an answer."

  "No."

  I hated the way adults in this palace always answered just enough to say nothing.

  At least he did not hide it behind pretty words.

  I let out a slow breath.

  "Is he afraid of me?" I asked.

  Dareth did not look away.

  "Yes."

  The answer hit harder than I had expected.

  I looked away toward the dummy.

  He continued, without harshness,

  "That doesn't mean what you think it means."

  I said nothing.

  He went on.

  "Some men fear an enemy.Others fear a choice.Your father fears both."

  I slowly looked back at him.

  Dareth crossed his arms.

  "And even so, he still keeps watch over you."

  I stayed still.

  Those words might have sounded false from another man.

  Not from him.

  Not with that face.

  "Then why doesn't he say anything?" I asked.

  Dareth lowered his eyes for a second to the sword I had set aside.

  "Because some men would rather cut themselves first than let the world do it for them."

  I did not understand the whole sentence.

  But I understood enough to feel that it was speaking less about me than about him. Or Father. Or both.

  The wind moved lightly through the yard.

  Somewhere farther inside the palace, a bell rang.

  I looked down at my hand again.

  Then I asked,

  "And you? Are you afraid too?"

  Dareth looked at me without any visible emotion.

  "I'm not stupid enough not to be."

  I did not know what to say to that.

  So he leaned his sword against the wall.

  "Tomorrow," he said.

  "What about tomorrow?"

  "Before dawn.The southern secondary yard."

  I stared at him.

  "You're coming?"

  "Yes."

  "Why?"

  "Because your mother no longer wants you training alone."

  I lifted my brows slightly.

  "So you are watching me."

  "Yes."

  He paused.

  "And I'm also going to stop you from bleeding for nothing."

  I lowered my eyes to the fresh bandage.

  Then back to him.

  Part of me still wanted to refuse out of principle.

  Another part already knew that would be stupid.

  "All right," I said.

  Dareth nodded once.

  Then he turned away.

  I thought the conversation was over.

  But before leaving the archway, he stopped for a second.

  Without turning back, he said,

  "Vaelen."

  "Yes?"

  "The next time you feel like hitting something because you can't think... at least pick a target worth the blow."

  Then he left.

  I remained alone in the yard.

  The wind had shifted a little.

  The palace still felt quiet.

  But not in the same way as before.

  I looked at my bandaged hand.

  Then the dummy.

  Then the empty archway where Dareth had disappeared.

  I still did not know what was waking inside me.

  I still did not know why Mother had spoken of forgotten names.

  I still did not know how I was supposed to look at Father after all this.

  But for the first time since morning, one thing had become clearer.

  I was no longer alone against the silence of the palace.

  And I still did not know whether that was good news.