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"It's because of Sky Wing."

"I know."

A thread of frustration slips into my voice. "Then why are you asking?"

He finally looks at me. That's what fathers do. Except he isn't looking at me like a father. He's studying me the way he studies negotiations. Looking for what isn't being said. "I'm observing." He replies simply. "I don't require explanations."

The frustration grows. "You certainly sound like you do."

"I made an observation."

"With respect, Councillor—" His eyebrow lifts slightly. "What exactly concerns you?" I correct myself.

He stops walking. So do I. For the first time since this conversation began he turns fully toward me. The Councillor disappears. Just enough that I catch a glimpse of the man beneath him. Not my father. Not entirely. But closer. "I'm not concerned about Corvell."

I stare. "You're not?"

"No." The answer comes without hesitation. "I'm concerned about you." The words hit harder than I expect. I don't remember the last time he said something so direct. I open my mouth. Nothing comes out. He continues before I find an answer. "You've always worked harder than everyone around you." His voice is quieter now. "When you were eight..." A faint smile almost appears. "You refused to leave the training yard until you could defeat an opponent twice your size."

I nod thoughtfully. "I remember."

"It wasn't strength that worried me." He says. "It was your inability to recognize your own limits."

My chest tightens. He remembers. All of it. Every lesson. Every bruise. Every impossible expectation. He remembers. "I've gotten better."

"I know." Another surprise. "You have." For one impossible heartbeat... I'm eight years old again. Standing in the training yard waiting for him to tell me I'd done well. He never did. Not directly. Instead he would simply hand me a more difficult sword. Or ask me to spar again. This...This is the closest he's ever come."I've heard you've been improving." He says quietly.

"I have." I smile slightly.

"Don't mistake improvement..." His gaze sharpens. "For mastery." There he is. The Don. The Councillor. The man who never allows satisfaction to become complacency.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Something flickers in his eyes. Approval. Gone almost before I recognize it. Then his expression hardens once more. "There is one thing I expect you to remember."

I straighten instinctively. "Yes, Councillor."

He studies me for a long moment. Then says, "Be careful who you allow to stand beside you."

I frown. "Because people are talking."

His expression doesn't change. "People always talk."

"Then..." I hesitate. "What do you mean?"

For the first time in the conversation he doesn't answer immediately. He looks toward the enormous windows overlooking Varethia. Toward the wards shimmering faintly beyond the city. When he finally speaks his voice is almost thoughtful. "The people standing beside you..." A pause. "Are often seen long before the person standing in front."

I don't entirely understand. He knows I don't. Yet...He says nothing more. The silence stretches between us. Heavy with meaning I can't quite reach. I have the unsettling feeling that he isn't talking about Academy gossip at all. Something he can't or won't explain.

Neither of us speaks. The silence isn't uncomfortable. It's...Familiar. I've spent years walking beside my father in silence. Through the training grounds. Through the vineyards surrounding our estate. Through endless corridors lined with portraits of people whose names I was expected to remember before I was old enough to read. He has never been a man who fills quiet simply because it exists. Today is no different.

We resume walking. The Assembly Hall is almost empty now. Council attendants move quietly between the stone seats, gathering forgotten documents and extinguishing lamps one by one. Their footsteps echo beneath the enormous dome. My father slows beside one of the tall windows overlooking the Academy. For several moments he simply watches. Students crossing the courtyards. Dragons soaring beyond the western cliffs. Wardkeepers beginning their new patrol routes. The Academy continues breathing. Even if its heartbeat has changed. "The Council will remain here for several weeks."

"I assumed as much."

"There will be inspections."

"I know."