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An attendant appears at the far end of the corridor. "Councillor Vaelith." He bows respectfully. "The Headmaster is waiting."

"I'll be there shortly."

The attendant disappears without another word. My father looks back at me. For the first time all morning there is no Council. No Assembly. No students. Just the two of us. He opens his mouth. As though he's about to say something. Stops. Looks down instead. His gaze lingers on my hands. Ink stains. Black beneath my fingernails. Tiny cuts across my knuckles from dry parchment. Then my wrist. I hadn't even realized I was rubbing it. His eyes travel upward. The shadows beneath mine. The exhaustion I failed to hide. He notices everything. Just like he always has. I suddenly remember being twelve years old. Trying to hide a fever because I refused to miss a fencing lesson. He'd taken one look at me and said, "Bed." I'd argued. He'd ignored me. Now, nineteen years old. Different Academy. Different responsibilities. The look is exactly the same. He says nothing for several long seconds. Then quietly asks, "You've been working." Not a question. A fact.

"Yes, Councillor."

Another silence. He knows I won't explain. I know he won't ask. Some duties don't allow explanations. He understands that better than anyone. Finally he exhales. Barely. "You look tired."

I smile faintly. "I suppose I do."

He nods once. "Eat." That's it. One word. No lecture. No criticism. No order to sleep more. Just...Eat. As though the rest will come after. As though food is the one thing he can still fix.

I feel an unexpected sting behind my eyes. "Yes, Councillor."

He gives one final nod. Then turns away. His long coat disappears down the eastern corridor without another glance back. Duty calling him somewhere I cannot follow. I remain standing exactly where he left me. Watching until he vanishes around the corner. "You can come out now." I don't turn around. A beat later Caelen steps from behind one of the enormous stone columns. I sigh. "How long have you been there?"

"The last five minutes." He grins.

"You disobeyed him."

"I obeyed him." He shrugs. "He told me to leave. I did. I left. Then I came back."

I laugh despite myself. "You're unbelievable."

He walks over until we're standing shoulder to shoulder. Neither of us speaks for a moment. Finally he asks the question he's been carrying since the Assembly ended. "How bad was it?" I look toward the corridor where our father disappeared. Then down at the ink still staining my fingers. I think about everything he said. Everything he didn't.

A small smile finds me before I can stop it. "Not as bad as I expected."

Caelen studies me carefully. "He was hard on you." "He was but..." I hesitate. "I think he was also trying."

My brother's expression softens. "So do I."

We begin walking toward the doors together. The Academy waits outside. Different. Heavier. More uncertain. Yet somehow as the cool morning air greets us once more I find myself slipping my hand into my pocket. Inside, my fingers brush against a small, slightly crushed apple. I frown. I don't remember putting it there. Confused, I pull it out.

Caelen glances sideways. "You forgot your breakfast." I stare at the apple. Then back toward the Assembly Hall. Toward the corridor where my father disappeared. A slow smile touches Caelen's face. "He noticed." I look down at the apple again. It isn't much. Just an apple. Except it isn't.

It's the only way my father has ever known how to say Take care of yourself. I close my fingers gently around it. "Yeah." I whisper. "He did."

Chapter Twenty-six

The first thing to disappear is free time. No one announces it. No one gathers the Academy to explain. It simply vanishes. By Tuesday morning, entirely new schedules have appeared outside every lecture hall. Students crowd around the notice boards before breakfast, reading line after line in confused silence. Additional combat instruction. Joint Wing exercises. Mandatory ward rotations. Dragon Protocol. Emergency response drills. Even first-years have gained nearly six additional hours of practical instruction each week. Someone near the back groans dramatically. "We're never sleeping again." No one laughs. Not really.

Nyra studies the notice board as though it were another historical document. "They've reorganized the entire Academy."

Cassian blinks. "Since yesterday.

"They've probably been planning it all night." Nyra yawns.

"They?" Cassian asks.

"The Council."

She traces one finger along the parchment without touching it. "Look." I follow her gaze. Classes haven't simply increased. They've shifted. Combat no longer belongs to individual Wings. Several periods now read: Joint Instruction. Others simply say: Emergency Response. No professors listed. No classroom assigned. Only times. And locations. "Interesting." Nyra murmurs.

"What?" I ask.

"They're reorganizing us by function."