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He rubs his wrist. "That you're not the girl I brought here." My chest tightens. I look at him. He continues.

"You fight differently. Think differently. You don't react the same." A pause. "I keep planning for who you were."

"I'm still your sister."

"Unfortunately." I shove his shoulder. He smiles. Then more seriously— "I know." Something about the way he says it makes my throat tight. Not sad. Just...

full. Caelen has spent months trying to keep me behind him. Tonight, he fought me. Really fought me.

And lost. Once. Barely. I'm never letting him forget it.

"You know what this means." I say.

His expression becomes suspicious. "What."

"I officially outrank you."

"No."

"I beat you."

"One round."

"Still counts."

"No."

"I'll tell Rhyven."

Caelen's entire face changes. "Don't."

I burst out laughing. "Oh, I absolutely will."

"Eirea."

"Maybe Dax too."

"I swear to gods—"

"Nyra."

"I will throw you out the window." There he is.

We head upstairs shortly after midnight. No bells. No alarms. Eight quiet days. Caelen goes directly to our corridor. I slow near operations. Light still burns beneath the door. I stop. Caelen keeps walking. Then notices. Turns. "What?"

"Nothing." He follows my gaze. Operations. Then looks at me. I expect something. A comment. A warning. He doesn't. Good.

"Night." He says.

"Night." And leaves.

I stand there another second. Then continue toward my room. Three steps. Stop. No. Something bothers me. I turn around. Walk back. Push open the operations door.

Rhyven is alone. Of course. Sitting at the long table. Reports everywhere. Patrol summaries. Ward readings. Dragon logs. Council notices. His hair is a mess. Not attractive mess. Exhausted mess. One hand presses briefly against his eyes before he looks up.

"What."

I look toward the plate beside him. Dinner. Untouched. Cold. I look at the clock. Twelve twenty-six. Then back at him. "You haven't eaten."