We both suspected what this was about, and I saw my own fear reflected in his eyes. He'd been expecting this, maybe even before I had.
Codric understood the machinery of royal politics better than I did, and he'd known that this was coming from the moment he'd seen the letter that Alar's mother had sent, a letter with the Catonian royal seal.
Neither of us said a word.
"What?" Shovia looked between us. "What's that look for?"
"What look?" Codric returned his attention to his plate.
"The one you and Kailin just exchanged, like you two know something the rest of us don't."
"I'm just worried," I said. "Alar should have been done by now."
Shovia narrowed her eyes. She was too perceptive to be deflected that easily.
"It's probably something about the Elurian Federation," Morek said. "Alar is so by the book that I can't imagine him getting in trouble for anything serious enough to be called intoGeneral Lesten's office for it. We are just cadets. We are nothing to the General."
"You've gotten called in for unauthorized barrel rolls," Codric reminded him.
"You did what?" Shovia looked at Morek with an expression halfway between admiration and disbelief.
"Korthax dared me, and I couldn't say no to my dragon."
"You absolutely could have and should have said no. You could have been kicked out of the force!"
He grimaced. "I almost was, but I wasn't called to the General's office. Commander Ravel delivered the scolding along with a stern warning."
"How did you get away with just a warning?" Shovia asked.
"I explained that my dragon doesn't understand the word 'no,' and that he didn't wait for me to initiate the rolls. He just did them, and I hung on for dear life. I told Commander Ravel that if anyone should've gotten in trouble it was he."
Their banter washed over me. I pushed the stew around my bowl and tried to eat, but my throat had closed up. Morgateth's energy hummed in the background, steady and warm, and I drew on it to keep from falling apart.
The minutes stretched.
When the front door finally opened and Alar stood in the doorway, one look at his face was enough to tell me everything I needed to know and everything I'd been dreading.
He looked like someone had died.
I got to my feet, crossed the room, and wrapped my arms around him, pressing my face against his chest and feeling the rigid tension in every muscle of his body.
"I'm so sorry," I whispered. "I'm so, so sorry, Alar."
He stood still for a moment, then his arms came around me, holding me tightly. He pressed his lips to the top of my head.
"Thank you," he murmured.
I held him, my mind racing through the implications. Poor Alar was drowning in guilt and grief for not being there when his father had taken his last breath.
"When did it happen?" I asked, pulling back enough to look at his face. "Was it sudden?"
Something flickered in his expression. Confusion, then understanding. "My father is very much alive," he said. "And Elurion willing, shall live many more years."
I blinked. "So, what happened? Why do you look like someone died?"
He let out a breath that sounded like it had been locked in his chest for hours. "Something died today, but it wasn't my father."
I understood, and the realization emptied all the air out of my lungs.
