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He's standing several feet away. Rhyven isn't with him. Good.

"Morning?" I ask.

"Night." I nod. That's all. Caelen watches me. I know that look. He's checking. I'm fine. So I make sure I look fine. Not difficult. I've been doing that my entire life.

"How long?" I ask.

"We don't know."

"Destination?"

"Primary staging in Elarion."

"Then?"

"Depends."

"How many?"

"Most third-years."

"All Chiefs?"

"Yes."

"Dragon units?"

"Senior."

"Professors?"

"Some." I nod again. Information. Useful. Good.

"What about Varethia?" I ask.

"Second-years take expanded defense. First-years maintain response support. Mara commands Sky."

"I know." Caelen's eyes narrow slightly. Of course I know. We trained for this yesterday.

"Does Father know?"

"Yes." Of course.

"Okay." That's all I have. Okay.

Caelen steps closer. "You don't have to—"

"I'm fine." Too fast. Damn. His expression changes. Not much. I correct. "I have training at fourteen."

He studies me. Then nods. "Okay." Good brother. He knows when not to push. Sometimes.

I look back at the board. Rhyven's name is still there. Black ink. Perfect handwriting. Like any other administrative notice. "Where is he?" I ask.

Caelen doesn't need clarification. "Dragons."

Of course. Preparing Vyrael. Preparing Sky Wing. Preparing to leave. I nod. Again. Apparently that's what I do now.

Training at fourteen happens. I attend. Obviously.