“I am sure you are here because you need a final assessment,” he says, settling into the chair across from me with his own cup. “Not about the maze. About our team.”
Straight to the point, not surprising.
“I believe our team is stronger than Lord Zevran’s.” He states this as simple fact.
The bluntness surprises me. “How?”
“Lord Zevran’s group is cohesive. Predictable. Balanced in a traditional sense – they complement each other well, with many overlappingskills.” He pauses, taking a measured sip of tea. “But that balance and similar skillset limits them. When the Mirror shifts beyond expected patterns, they will struggle to adapt as they realize where their abilities fall short.”
He sets his cup down on the armrest. “You have Lord Castor, who gives you decisive action. Lady Nerida, who gives you perception and emotional awareness. And I contribute logic and structure. These qualities don’t overlap – but that is what makes it work. We have the skills and knowledge to tackle anything. We are not lacking in any way – we form a team that can adapt faster than a limited skill set team can.”
“Then why does it feel like our team is so disconnected?”
“Because you are looking at the pieces, not the structure.” His eyes meet mine directly, which he rarely does. “And because the structure is held together by you.”
I wait.
“Adaptability is the trait that integrates all others. Lord Castor follows movement. Lady Nerida follows intuition. I follow order. You are the only one who can hold all three together.” He glances at the shelves around us, at the hundreds of books that fill this otherwise austere space. “I have been doing this my entire life – holding systems together through pure logic. My parents died when I was fifteen. No siblings. No heirs. Just me and Saturn’s council of scholars who taught me that knowledge could replace everything else.”
He picks up his tea again but doesn’t drink, just holds it. “Books were easier than people. They made sense. They had rules. They do not change and they stay reliable.”
The admission surprises me, uncharacteristic in its vulnerability.
“But books cannot hold a kingdom together,” he continues. “Not really. That requires people. It requires trusting that others will fulfill their function even when the variables shift.” He meets my eyes again. “You already do that instinctively. You adapted to Lord Castor’s aggression, to Lady Nerida’s unpredictability, to my rigidity. You have not tried to change us – you are working with what we are.”
I nod slowly and take another sip of tea.
“Think of the Mirror as a system,” he continues, his voice returning to its usual measured tone. “Systems often fail when there is noflexibility, no adaptability.” He gestures to the grid overlay on the viewport. “That is what you provide. Not because you know everything, but because you can integrate what others know.”
“So I have to be the glue holding the team together, in a way?”
“Exactly.” He nods once, a ghost of approval in his expression. “You do not need every answer. You only need to keep the system aligned – be the guiding hand of our skills and knowledge.”
My chest loosens. Not euphoria or terror. Certainty.
Lord Evander sees it. “Good. That is the correct response.”
He stands, indicating the conversation is complete, but his movements are less rigid than usual. He glances at the book on his pillow, then back to me.
“Lord Evander,” I say as he moves toward the door to escort me out.
He pauses, turning his head just enough to indicate attention.
“Thank you. For telling me about your parents. About the books.”
Surprise flickers across his face, turning quickly into a look of gratitude that someone acknowledged the personal admission buried in his analysis.
“You’re welcome,” he says quietly. Then, more characteristically: “Rest well. The Mirror won’t accommodate exhaustion.”
Astrid is waiting by the door when Ren and I return to our residential wing. Ren stops just outside the door, taking up her usual position.
“How did it go?” Astrid asks as she ushers me in.
I let out an anxious breath. “Lord Evander thinks I’m ready.”
She studies me for a heartbeat, large eyes noticing the tension still visible in my shoulders, the exhaustion pulling at my features, the way my hands shake slightly at my sides. Then she nods toward a bench against the wall. “Sit before you fall over.”
“I’m fine, Astrid.”
