The Drayvar mansion felt strangely empty without Varen and Rylan.
Not physically empty—there were still over two hundred people living and working within its walls—but in a more subtle way. As if someone had removed two central pieces of a mechanism and now everything spun slightly off balance, searching for a new rhythm.
Kael noticed it first at breakfast on the second day.
Elyn arrived later than usual, with dark circles under her eyes that makeup couldn't quite conceal. She sat in her usual place—to the right of Varen's empty chair—and looked at Rylan's empty seat across with an expression Kael couldn't quite decipher.
Worry? Anxious pride? Loneliness?
All of the above, he decided. For the first time in fourteen years, her favorite son is beyond her reach. Beyond her control.
Lyssara entered exactly five minutes later, which was unusual. Normally she arrived whenever she pleased, with no predictable pattern. But today she'd arrived deliberately late, testing what would happen without Rylan there to fill the space.
Elyn looked at her, eyes narrowing slightly.
—Good morning, Lyssara.
—Good morning, mother —Lyssara responded with perfectly polite tone as she sat in her usual place.
But then she did something Kael had never seen her do before: she took bread from the central basket without waiting for Elyn to eat first.
It was a minuscule violation of family protocol. Technically, the lady of the house ate first, then children by order of importance. But it was so small that mentioning it would be petulant.
Elyn said nothing. But her fingers tightened around her knife.
Interesting, thought Kael. Lyssara is testing boundaries. Seeing what she can take now that Rylan isn't here to occupy all of Elyn's attention.
Sareth arrived last, as always, sliding into his seat beside Kael with silent movements. But something was different. He had a book under his arm—nothing unusual—but it was one Kael didn't recognize. Thinner. Without the characteristic dust of ancient tomes from the library.
—New book? —Kael asked in a low voice as they served themselves.
—I found it in the back shelves —Sareth murmured, sounding almost... guilty?—. It's about... uh... basic military tactics. I thought it might be useful to understand how battles work. You know. For historical context.
It was a lie. Or at least, not the whole truth. Kael could see it in how Sareth avoided his gaze, in how his fingers caressed the book's cover with something like nervous hope.
He's trying to learn about war, Kael understood. After what we talked about. He's searching for his own way to be useful.
He didn't know whether to feel proud or guilty.
Breakfast continued in tense silence. Elyn ate mechanically, clearly with her mind elsewhere—probably imagining every step of Rylan's journey, every presentation, every possible disaster. Lyssara read, but her eyes moved too quickly across the pages to actually be absorbing information. She was observing. Waiting.
And Kael ate his dry bread, cataloging every small change in family dynamics, wondering how he could use them.
But use them for what, he reminded himself. I still don't know what I really want. I only know I want... more. To be more. To matter more.
But matter to whom? For what?
He had no answers. Only a vague and growing hunger he couldn't quite name.
After breakfast, while Sareth went to his music lesson—which was now private and solitary without the possibility of Kael accompanying him—Kael headed toward the training yard.
Not to observe from the balcony this time. But to be there. On the ground. Among the soldiers.
Master Torin was supervising a formation drill, shouting corrections at a dozen guards practicing synchronized movements. His voice resonated across the yard, gruff but not cruel, the kind of discipline that came from decades of experience.
Kael stood at the edge, waiting. Not interrupting. Just... present.
It took Torin five minutes to notice him. When he did, his eyebrows rose with genuine surprise.
—Young Kael. —He approached with heavy steps, looking down at the small child—. Do you need something?
—I want to learn —Kael said directly.
—Learn what?
—To fight.
There was silence. Several of the guards had stopped their training to listen, curiosity clear on their faces.
Torin rubbed his jaw, considering.
—You're still young. Eight years old?
—Yes, Master Torin.
—Did your father approve this?
—My father isn't here —Kael pointed out—. And I don't think he cares one way or another.
It was brutally honest. Probably too honest. But Torin was a man who appreciated frankness.
The weapons master made a sound that could have been laughter or a grunt.
—Fair enough. —He crossed his arms—. Why now? Rylan has been training since he was seven. You never showed interest before.
—Because before I was too young and it didn't matter. —Kael kept his voice steady—. But I'm eight now. And if I wait any longer, I'll be even further behind everyone else.
—Your resonance ceremony was average —Torin said, not cruelly, just stating facts—. Apprentice maybe, fifth layer maximum. You'll never be an exceptional warrior.
—I don't need to be exceptional. I just need not to be useless.
That seemed to resonate with Torin. The old soldier studied Kael with eyes that had seen too many battles, evaluating not just his body but his determination.
—Very well —he said finally—. But on my terms. No special treatment for being the Grand Duke's son. You train with the initiates. You do every exercise they do. You fall, you get up. You cry, you leave. Understood?
—Understood.
—And I'll speak with your stepmother. If Lady Elyn objects, this ends immediately.
Kael nodded, though he doubted Elyn would object. To her, he was so invisible she probably wouldn't even notice he was training.
—Report here tomorrow. At dawn. —Torin pointed to a group of younger boys in the corner of the yard, none older than fifteen—. You'll train with them. If you survive a week without quitting, I'll consider teaching you something real.
—Thank you, Master Torin.
The man grunted and returned to his class, immediately shouting at a guard who'd dropped his formation.
Kael stood there a moment longer, watching the initiates. They were sons of knights, minor nobles, second wives. Not heirs.
My people, he thought with a mix of irony and something like satisfaction. The invisibles. The ones who have to earn every inch.
He turned to leave and almost collided with Lyssara.
She was standing right behind him, so silent he hadn't heard her approach. In her hands was that same book she'd been "reading" during breakfast.
—How long have you been there? —Kael asked.
—Long enough. —Lyssara tilted her head, studying him—. Physical training. Interesting choice.
—I need something more than words —he said simply.
—Weren't words enough with Aldric?
Kael felt a flash of irritation. Of course she'd still been watching him.
—Words work when you have information. But information only comes from being in places, seeing things, being strong enough to survive if you're caught.
—True. —Lyssara walked to the edge of the yard, watching the guards train—. Though I wonder if you'll survive Torin. He's... intense.
—I'll survive.
—Confidence or desperation?
Kael looked at her. There was something different about Lyssara today. Less guarded. As if Rylan's absence had removed a layer of necessary pretense.
—Why are you talking to me? —he asked directly—. Normally you just observe.
Lyssara turned to him, with an expression that might have been amusement.
—Because you're more interesting than my books. And because right now, you're the only person in this mansion who seems to be trying to change something instead of just accepting their place.
—And you? What are you trying to change?
—Everything. —She said it with such simplicity that Kael almost laughed—. But patiently. Rylan is the heir now. But heirs die. Or fail. Or... simply don't turn out to be what everyone expected.
There was something slightly ominous in those words. Kael wasn't sure if it was threat, prediction, or just observation.
—Do you think Rylan will fail?
—I think Rylan is exactly what he appears to be: strong, honorable, predictable. —Lyssara shrugged—. And in politics, being predictable is eventually fatal.
She walked away before Kael could respond, her dress whispering against the stone.
And Kael stood there, processing the conversation, wondering if he'd just made an ally or if Lyssara was simply studying him like an entomologist would study an interesting insect before pinning it.
Probably both, he decided.
The afternoon found Kael searching for Sareth. His brother hadn't appeared at lunch, which was unusual. Sareth was many things—shy, nervous, constantly frightened—but he never missed meals. Food was one of the few predictable comforts he had.
Kael checked the obvious locations first: Sareth's room (empty), the dining hall (empty except for servants cleaning), the study room (abandoned after morning lessons).
Which left the library.
Of course.
Kael walked through the familiar hallways, his steps echoing softly against the stone. The secondary library was in the east wing, far from the bustle of main areas. It was a refuge for those who wanted not to be found.
Or for those who had nowhere else to go.
He pushed the door open gently, expecting to find Sareth alone, buried in some dusty tome about imperial history or abstract philosophy.
What he found was... different.
Sareth was sitting at the long central table, yes. But he wasn't alone.
There was a girl with him.
Kael stopped in the doorway, genuinely surprised. In all his eight years, he'd never seen Sareth voluntarily interact with anyone outside the family. And certainly never with a girl.
She was maybe thirteen, with brown hair pulled back in a simple braid and a round face that still held some childhood softness. She wore simple but clean clothes—the kind worn by children of high-ranking servants—and had a book open in front of her, though she clearly wasn't reading.
She was laughing.
Sareth had made her laugh.
—...and then Master Corvin fell asleep —Sareth was saying, with a shy smile Kael rarely saw—. Right in the middle of explaining the Third Consolidation. He collapsed onto the book and started snoring.
—Really? —The girl covered her mouth, but her laughter escaped anyway—. And what did you do?
—Kael drew a mustache on his own face and tried to wake him up acting like nothing had happened.
Wait, thought Kael. Is that what that story is about? I was trying to see if Corvin would notice. It was an experiment.
But seeing the girl's laughter, the way Sareth lit up with her amusement, he decided not to correct the record.
—That must be difficult —the girl said, her laughter fading to something softer—. Having to learn with someone so boring.
—It's... —Sareth shrugged, his usual shyness returning—. It's fine. At least the books are interesting.
—Books are always interesting —she agreed fervently—. I work in the main library with my parents. Well, I help them catalog. Sometimes they let me read during breaks.
Ah, Kael understood. One of the librarians' children. That's why she's here.
He decided he'd observed enough.
—Am I interrupting something? —he asked, pushing the door fully open.
Sareth jumped as if he'd been shot, whirling around with wide eyes and face instantly reddening.
—K-Kael! I... we were just... —he stammered, words stumbling over themselves.
The girl also startled, but recovered faster. She stood, smoothing her dress nervously, and made a small curtsy.
—Young Kael —she said with polite but trembling voice—. I'm Carmen. My grandmother is Ama Maren.
So she's Maren's family, Kael noted. Interesting.
—Carmen —he repeated, walking toward the table—. What are you reading?
—I... —Carmen looked at her book—. History of the First Empire. For my education.
—Your education? —Kael raised an eyebrow—. Do the librarians' children receive formal education?
—My grandmother insisted —Carmen said, with a touch of defensive pride in her voice—. She says an educated mind can open doors that birth keeps closed.
Wise woman, thought Kael. Ama Maren was always smarter than people gave her credit for.
—And Sareth was helping you? —he asked, looking at his brother with deliberately innocent expression.
Sareth turned even redder.
—I... she had questions about the Consolidation Wars and I... was just explaining...
—Fascinating —Kael interrupted, sliding into the chair across from Carmen—. And meanwhile, you were sharing stories about Master Corvin. Who, by the way, never fell asleep. He was pretending to see how long it would take us to realize he wasn't paying attention.
—Was he? —Carmen blinked, confused.
—No —Kael admitted with a small smile—. He really did fall asleep. But it sounds better to say it was a test.
Carmen laughed, and Kael saw something in Sareth's face he hadn't seen before: annoyance. Real annoyance directed at him.
Interesting, he thought. Sareth is defending his territory. Never thought I'd see the day.
—So Carmen —Kael continued, deliberately ignoring Sareth's warning look—. What else do you do besides study boring history?
—I help in the main library —she said, some confidence returning—. Cataloging, cleaning, filing. And sometimes I read the sections that aren't open to the general public.
—Restricted sections? —Kael's interest sharpened genuinely—. What kind of books are there?
—Mostly private family records. Old correspondence. Some military treatises. Nothing exciting —she hurried to add—. Just documents that need to be kept but not... displayed.
Information, thought Kael. She has access to information no one else sees. Including things that could be... useful.
—And they let you read them? —he asked casually.
—Sometimes. If I'm bored and my parents are busy. —Carmen shrugged—. No one really pays attention.
Of course they don't, thought Kael. Because no one pays attention to servants' children. Just like no one pays attention to us.
He was about to ask another question when Sareth cleared his throat. Loudly.
—Kael, didn't you have to be somewhere? —he asked with tense voice—. I thought you'd said something about... uh... that matter with Master Torin.
Kael looked at him, seeing clearly what was happening. Sareth wanted him to leave. He wanted time alone with Carmen. He wanted...
Oh, he understood with sudden amusement. My brother has his first crush. How adorable. And how completely inconvenient for him that I showed up.
He decided to be merciful. Mostly.
—You're right —dijo, levantándose—. I need to check the training schedule for tomorrow. Carmen, it was a pleasure meeting you.
—Likewise, Young Kael —she responded politely.
—And Sareth —Kael added, leaning to whisper as he passed—. The military tactics book you were "reading" this morning is upside down in your lap.
He watched Sareth look down in panic, realize Kael was right, and turn a shade of red that was probably medically concerning.
Kael left the library with a small smile.
So Sareth finally found something—or someone—he cares about besides books and survival. Good for him.
Though, he thought as he walked down the hallway, Carmen with access to restricted documents. That could be useful someday.
But for now, I'll give Sareth his moment. We all deserve to have something that's just ours. Even the invisibles.
Especially the invisibles.