Alaric had already stopped pretending that the maps were helping.

  They covered the entire table in his chamber—inked lines, marked villages, patrol routes, symbols copied carefully from reports. Information. Movement. Control.

  And yet, it felt like trying to stop the sea with his bare hands.

  He rubbed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. The room was silent, save for the distant смен of guards in the tower corridor and the soft hiss of the brazier in the corner.

  He had slept. Technically. His body disagreed.

  He closed his eyes.

  “When did I stop knowing what to do?” he murmured to himself.

  The guilt wasn’t new. It was old. But now it weighed more.

  Because Lucan was here. Inside the walls.

  Breathing the same air as everyone else. And Alaric didn’t know whether protecting him meant saving him… or condemning him.

  Especially now that Renar had begun to draw closer. Renar, with his suspicion and his sense of duty. Alaric knew him too well. If Renar decided to investigate on his own, he could tear apart everything Alaric was trying to build.

  And for all his discipline, Renar was rarely gentle with what he didn’t understand.

  Alaric looked at one of the red marks on the map, but he wasn’t seeing the village it represented.

  He was seeing another room. Another child. Another decision made too late.

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Come in.”

  Elira entered and closed it behind her. She didn’t look surprised to have been summoned—only concerned. She had always been good at reading the tension in a room before anyone spoke.

  “You wanted to see me?”

  Alaric stood, more out of restlessness than formality.

  “Yes. I’ll be brief.”

  He didn’t bother with preamble.

  “I need you to do something,” he said. “Watch Lucan. Not closely.”

  Just… make sure he’s all right. Who follows him. What he does. If anyone gets too close.”

  Elira looked at him steadily.

  “Why me?”

  “You’ve spent time with Lucan,” he said. “You’re good with people. He seems… comfortable at your house.”

  Elira tilted her head slightly.

  “He’s polite. Quiet. He observes more than he speaks. But yes—he relaxes there.”

  Alaric gave a short nod.

  “You have children his age. No one will question it if Selene or Kael spend time around him.”

  The words carried more weight than he intended.

  Her gaze sharpened—not with suspicion, but attention.

  Elira exhaled slowly.

  “I don’t want my children involved in this.”

  “It’s not about involving them,” Alaric said. “Just observing. For their safety… and his.”

  He closed his eyes for a moment.

  “Fine,” she said at last. “But if something goes wrong, I won’t stay silent.”

  Alaric accepted.

  “Just protect him.”

  “You’re worried about him,” she said.

  “Yes,” Alaric replied.

  That part, at least, was completely true.

  But it wasn’t the whole truth.

  Elira studied him a moment longer.

  “All right.”

  As she turned to leave, Alaric added quietly,

  “I don’t want him to feel like he’s being watched.”

  Elira gave him a soft, understanding look.

  “Neither do I.”

  She didn’t follow Lucan herself.

  She told herself that would only make things worse.

  Later, she found Selene in the kitchen, hands dusted with flour, complaining that Kael was stealing olives meant for dinner.

  “Selene,” Elira said gently. “Can I ask you something?”

  Selene looked up.

  “If this is about Kael, I already told him I’d stab his hand with a fork next time.”

  “It’s not about Kael.”

  Selene wiped her hands on a cloth.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “Okay… that tone sounds serious.”

  Elira leaned against the table.

  “Lucan doesn’t have many people here yet. I don’t want him spending all his time alone. Could you… spend time with him when you can? Just make sure he’s all right.”

  Selene relaxed a little.

  “That’s it?”

  Elira hesitated—just long enough for it not to be entirely true.

  “And tell me if he seems restless,” she added quickly. “Not like a report. Just… if it seems like he’s carrying more than he should. Or if you notice anything strange.”

  Selene frowned.

  “That sounds a lot like spying on him.”

  “It’s not spying,” Elira said, though her voice faltered. “It’s caring.”

  “He’s my friend, Mom.”

  “I know,” Elira said softly. “But there are things you don’t understand yet. Do this for me. Please.”

  Selene sighed, staring into the fire for a long moment.

  “Fine. But if he finds out… I’m telling him the truth.”

  Elira smiled.

  “Just be careful.”

  Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, Darian stood at the entrance to the training yard, a wooden sword resting on his shoulder.

  “Dad,” he called. “Are you busy later?”

  Renar was tightening the bandages on his forearm, his gaze distant.

  “Hm?”

  “I thought we could go down to the terraces. You said you’d show me that footwork for uneven ground.”

  Renar went still.

  For a moment, he almost said yes.

  But another image rose unbidden—of a boy training alone in a stone courtyard, movements too controlled for his age.

  “Not today,” Renar said. “I have something to take care of.”

  Darian tightened his grip on the practice sword, but his voice stayed steady.

  “Sure. That’s fine.”

  Aeris, sitting on the low wall nearby, watched the exchange without saying a word.

  Renar didn’t notice the way Darian’s shoulders stiffned.

  Lucan was alone in the small eastern courtyard, half-hidden behind an old fig tree whose roots were beginning to crack the stone.

  He liked it. Fewer eyes.

  His tunic was damp with sweat, hair stuck to his forehead. He repeated sequences Eldric had taught him years ago—not for speed or strength, but control.

  He stopped mid-movement and looked around.

  No one.

  Calmly, he set the practice sword aside.

  His fingers slid beneath the collar of his tunic, resting against the skin where the mark lay hidden.

  He closed his eyes.

  “Just a little,” he murmured.

  He didn’t force it.

  He listened.

  At first, nothing.

  Then a faint warmth beneath his palm. Not pain. Not yet. More like an ember buried under ash.

  His breathing stayed even. He focused on that. On the space between heartbeats.

  The warmth pulsed once.

  A slight shimmer passed through the air in front of him, like heat rising from stone in summer.

  Lucan opened his eyes.

  He didn’t smile. But something like wonder crossed his face.

  “So that’s when…” he whispered.

  He released it at once. The warmth faded.

  He never noticed the figure watching from beyond the low wall.

  Renar entered the courtyard just as Lucan picked up the sword again.

  This time, the boy didn’t startle.

  “You’re back,” Lucan said.

  “If you don’t mind.”

  They didn’t speak much after that. They didn’t need to.

  Wood met wood—not with the harsh rhythm of a test, but the steady exchange of two people learning each other’s timing.

  During a pause, Lucan asked,

  “Do you always fight like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you expect the ground to move.”

  Renar let out a quiet chuckle.

  “It usually does.”

  Lucan considered that. Adjusted his stance in the next exchange.

  Renar noticed.

  Selene crouched behind the outer wall of the fig tree, her heart pounding faster than the situation warranted.

  This is stupid, she told herself. You could just walk in.

  But if she did, it felt like an interruption.

  If she stayed, it felt like spying.

  She stayed anyway.

  They weren’t trying to hurt each other.

  They were learning.

  That should have reassured her.

  It didn’t.

  A voice spoke behind her.

  “You know,” Eldric said, “people trained to survive tend to notice when they’re being watched.”

  Selene nearly jumped out of her skin.

  “I’m not spying on him!”

  Eldric raised an eyebrow.

  “Oh? Then the bushes must be fascinating today.”

  She scowled.

  “I just wanted to make sure he’s okay.”

  Eldric studied her for a moment.

  “That’s a good reason,” he said. “Just make sure it stays the real one.”

  “And you?” she asked. “Are you watching him too?”

  Eldric looked toward the courtyard.

  “Something like that.”

  Selene studied him—the way he stood, the old scar on his hand, his bearing. Something about him felt familiar, though she couldn’t place it.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  Eldric took his time answering.

  “Someone who protects him.”

  Selene frowned.

  “From what?”

  “From things he doesn’t understand yet.”

  She didn’t reply. But she noticed the way Eldric watched the courtyard—as if he recognized something in Lucan’s movements. And in Renar’s.

  And for a brief second, she thought Eldric looked at her the same way—as if he saw something familiar in her eyes.

  His expression softened.

  “He seems… calm.”

  “Yes,” Eldric said quietly. “That’s the part we have to protect.”

  Darian and Aeris slowed as they rounded the corner of the courtyard. The sound of wood striking wood reached them before the sight.

  Darian stopped short.

  Aeris nearly ran into him. She followed his gaze.

  There was Renar.

  Their father—the man who had always been an unbreakable wall—was laughing.

  Not loudly. Not openly. It was low, restrained, almost surprised, as if it had slipped out without permission.

  In front of him, Lucan corrected his stance after a block.

  Renar reached out and adjusted Lucan’s elbow with a firm but patient touch—not the roughness he used when training them.

  He said something quietly. Lucan nodded, and Renar laughed again—this time a little clearer—as he repeated the movement.

  Something twisted inside him.

  It wasn’t anger. Not yet.

  It was worse—a cold, confusing ache he didn’t have a name for.

  Aeris tilted her head, watching everything with that look of hers that always seemed to see more layers than most.

  “It’s him,” she said softly. “The one from the tournament.”

  Darian didn’t answer. His eyes were fixed on his father’s hand on Lucan’s shoulder, on the way Renar looked at him—not with suspicion, not with cold evaluation… but with interest. With something dangerously close to approval.

  The new boy—the stranger—had managed in minutes what Darian had spent years chasing without ever quite reaching.

  Darian clenched his fists until his knuckles went white.

  Aeris noticed.

  “Darian—”

  “Don’t,” he cut her off, voice low but tight.

  She didn’t push. But she didn’t look away from the courtyard either.

  There was their father, correcting Lucan’s step with a patience he rarely showed them when they failed.

  Darian turned first.

  “Let’s go,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended.

  Aeris lingered for a second longer.

  She looked at Lucan—how he took the correction without pride, without seeking praise. Just nodded and repeated the movement.

  Something about that quiet focus stirred her curiosity.

  Not envy.

  Just questions.

  Then she followed her brother.

  Neither of them spoke as they walked away.

  But the silence between them felt different.

  Darian walked with rigid shoulders, jaw clenched.

  Aeris walked with her head slightly tilted, thinking.

  And behind them, in the courtyard, Renar kept training with Lucan, unaware that his own children had just seen him smile in a way they had almost forgotten.

  They trained for nearly another hour. This time, Renar spoke more. Asked simple questions—how Lucan had learned certain movements, how long he’d used a short blade, what he thought of Valthera.

  Lucan answered briefly, but without evasion.

  When they finished, Renar wiped the sweat from his brow.

  “Come to my house tomorrow,” he said. “We’ll train in the back yard. My children will be there.”

  Lucan considered.

  “Why?”

  Renar paused.

  “Because training alone is fine… but training with others is better.”

  Lucan thought for a second.

  “All right.”

  That night, Lucan took longer than usual to fall asleep.

  Thinking.

  About adjustments in posture.

  About how Renar didn’t seem to look at him as a weapon… or as a threat.

  About the brief warmth beneath his skin—and the tremor that answered when he listened instead of forcing.

  Selene stared at the ceiling, guilt heavy in her stomach.

  Eldric watched the rooftops from a shadowed balcony, certain now that too many people had begun paying attention to the same boy.

  And Renar stood alone in the courtyard outside his home, wondering when protecting his city had begun to feel like choosing who might be hurt next.

  No one slept well.

  And no one yet understood how closely their decisions were beginning to orbit the same quiet center.

  End of Chapter 9