“You disappeared,” I say.
“You didn’t need me hovering. Mercury responds better to directproblem-solving than political theatre.” She starts walking, and I fall into step beside her. “Iwasable to overhear most of it. You approached her as a collaborator. That matters to someone constantly trying to prove herself.”
We pass through a junction where the amber glass gives way to darker stone. The social wing’s warmth fades behind us.
“You should try Saturn next,” Isolde says. “Evander is practical and logical, but I’ve never seen him engage in a conversation that wasn’t philosophical, so … you’ll just have to handle this one differently.”
“How?” I ask, suddenly unsure of myself.
“You’ll figure it out.” She stops at a branching corridor. “The library is through there. Evander values knowledge and preservation above all else.”
“You’re not coming?” I ask.
“No. This one you go alone, darling.”
The arena library is quieter than anywhere I’ve been since arriving on Talis.
I step through an archway carved with astronomical symbols, and the noise of the corridors drops away at once. The chamber opens into a wide, circular hall with shelves of transparent crystal rising three stories high. Rows of data slates and preserved texts glow faintly behind containment fields. Long tables stretch across the polished floor, their surfaces inlaid with constellations that shimmer when I pass.
A handful of scholarly Cardinals sit scattered around the room, heads bent over ancient volumes. The air carries the dry scent of old paper and dust.
Near the far wall, a ladder glides soundlessly along a rail. Lord Evander stands atop it, his grey hair catching the cool blue light as he searches the upper shelves.
I cross the floor. Just as he frees a heavy tome from its slot, another book slips beside it and drops.
I catch it before it hits the ground – surprised by my own dexterity, which seems to be improving since starting all this training – and pass it back. “I imagine the archivists here aren’t a violent group,” I can feel a small smile spread across my lips. “But I think in this case, they would make an exception if you damaged a book.”
Lord Evander glances down, a brief flicker of surprise softening his reserve. “Believe me, Saturn archivists would do the same.” There is the faintest thread of humour beneath his formal exterior.
He descends the ladder and sets both books on the nearest table. “You have quick reflexes, Lady Cyra.” He gestures to the volumes already arranged across the surface. “If you have a moment, help would be welcome. I am searching for early Conclave records.”
I join him at the table. Sorting the ancient bindings brings a steady rhythm that quiets my thoughts.
“What exactly are you researching?” I ask.
“Governance,” he says. “Or what is left of it. The original framework of the Conclave before it was rewritten.”
I place another book into a neat stack. “I thought the trials were simply a way to choose a ruler that could unite all of the planetary kingdoms. Were they different before?”
He sits, resting a volume across his knees. “The founders called it the Covenant of Twelve, back when there were lesser moons and outer rim colonies that had kingdoms like ours. It was meant to help determine who could lead justly,” he says.
I take the seat across from him. “How did it work?”
Approval crosses his face, brief but sincere.
He opens the book again. “Each House sent a candidate who demonstrated three virtues: strength, intellect, and empathy. The trials were not meant to determine who was strongest, smartest, or anything like that. They were actually meant to reveal which candidates could not be trusted with power.”
“How did they do that exactly?”
“No one ‘won’ any trials or competitions,” Lord Evander explains. “They all worked together. The Houses talked. Argued. Forged alliances. Once consensus formed around the candidate least corrupted by ambition, the Covenant allowed them to lead. Any House could halt the process with a single refusal. Unity was required, not victory.”
I blink, letting this information sink in. “That sounds … impossible.”
“It was difficult by design. Which is why it worked.” He turns a page with careful admiration. “The Houses depended on one another. Resources, trade routes, military support. No one dared manipulate the outcome because they could not afford to lose the others. And the Cardinals guarded the Covenant with absolute authority.” He pauses. “Until Solric of House Sun.”
I swallow hard.
Lord Evander turns another page, the blue light cutting fine lines into the skin around his eyes. “He discovered loopholes. He followed every rule …technically. Never outright tampered with a trial. Never left enough evidence to prove he swayed a vote.” His fingers rest on the page. “But he shaped each trial so that no other candidate would be as successful as him. He arranged the structure, and by virtue, the outcome. The spirit of the Covenant fractured.”
