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"That sounds like you."

"He hated me."

"Understandable."

"Eventually the faculty stopped assigning him to younger Riders."

"And then?"

"Third year, they offered me Chief."

I stare. "Because you were annoying?"

"Apparently useful." I laugh quietly. Rhyven sets the harness aside. Checks another. His hands move automatically. He has probably done this thousands of times.

"Were you scared?" I ask. That gets his attention. "Of being Chief."

He looks at me. "No." Liar. Maybe. Then— "Yes."

There. Again. That tiny honesty he only seems capable of giving after midnight.

"Why?"

Rhyven looks toward the harness. "Because people think being responsible means knowing what to do."

I wait. "Doesn't it?"

"No." He tightens the strap. "Usually it means deciding while everyone else waits for you to be right." Silence. Something in my chest shifts. I've watched him do exactly that. Training halls. Disappearances. Theryn. Elarion. Council meetings. Everyone looking toward Rhyven as though he carries answers simply because he stands still enough to look like he does. Maybe he never had them. Maybe he just chose faster than everyone else.

"What if you're wrong?" I ask.

Rhyven's expression doesn't change. "Then someone pays for it." That answer comes too easily. He's thought about this before. A lot.

"And if you're right?"

"They usually don't notice."

I stare at him. "That's depressing."

"No."

"It absolutely is."

"It's leadership."

"Those things aren't mutually exclusive." His mouth twitches. I put the sharpening stone down. "Do you ever wish you weren't Chief?"

Rhyven thinks. "Sometimes."

"When?"

"Council meetings."

I laugh. "Fair."

"Paperwork."

"Also fair."