The training hall smelled faintly of stone dust and ozone—a sign Valdosta might have been practicing before I arrived. I wondered why he'd summoned me to the west training hall instead of the woodlands.

  I stepped inside, tightening the wraps around my braid. My muscles still ached from the previous day, but I hid it well.

  Magister Valdosta stood at the center of the floor, hands clasped behind his back, posture rigid as a steel rod.

  "Today, we begin defensive countermeasures for kinetic pulses."

  I frowned. "Shockwaves?"

  "In the popular sense, yes. But more precisely—" He raised his hand, fingers tracing a controlled arc. "Kinetic displacement fields. Pressure gradients compressed and released in the span of a heartbeat. You may one day face someone capable of producing them."

  "You said not many people know about energy absorption."

  "Indeed. Not many does not mean no one. And a mage doesn't necessarily need to absorb energy to produce a kinetic pulse—it just makes it more effective. Amplifies the energy used. And if they strike first—"

  He flicked his fingers.

  A low hum vibrated through the floor. I barely registered it before—

  BOOM.

  A blast erupted near me, close enough that the aftershock slammed into my chest like a physical shove. Air punched out of my lungs. I stumbled back, feet sliding on the polished stone. It took me a second to regain my balance.

  My ears rang. Dust drifted down in lazy spirals.

  "That was a proximal pulse," Valdosta said. "Reduced intensity. Had it been centered on you, you wouldn't be standing."

  I forced myself straight and instantly regretted waking up that morning.

  "I didn't even see it."

  "You're not meant to. Shockwaves are not about seeing." He approached with measured steps.

  "They're about reading the field. Feel the moment the air compresses. Sense the build of momentum."

  "How do I defend against something that fast?"

  "Two methods: absorption... or cancellation."

  I tilted my head. This was piquing my interest.

  "Every pulse has a signature—crest, trough, directional vector. If you absorb part of the leading crest, you break the coherence. The shockwave collapses. Even a slight disruption weakens the impact."

  He noticed the confusion in my eyes and sighed.

  "You are not stopping the whole wave—only undermining its structure. Understand?"

  I nodded slowly. "Take the momentum out of it before it hits?"

  "Precisely." Valdosta stepped back. "Now we test your comprehension."

  "That was the test?"

  "No." His expression didn't change except for the devious twinkle in his eyes. "That was the demonstration."

  He raised both hands this time, palms angled toward my torso. The stone embedded in the clasp at his collarbone glowed briefly—an external energy reservoir.

  I braced, feet widening, breath steadying. I sharpened my senses, repeating his words: read the field.

  The air thickened—just a hint. Pressure I could barely name.

  There.

  I reached out with my energy sense, trying to pull the front of the wave toward me—

  BOOM.

  A second, sharper blast tore through my vision. Pain lanced across my ribs. The air vanished from my lungs. My knees buckled, and the world dissolved into white heat and ringing.

  Darkness swallowed me before I hit the floor.

  Distant voices, muffled and distorted. I rose from unconsciousness with great difficulty, like a bird trapped in oil. Heavy and disoriented.

  Only one thing was clear.

  "He fucking blasted me!"

  I tried to sit. My chest burned and throbbed. Enora and Hana snapped their attention to me immediately. Hana had been setting bandages on the bedside table—she rushed forward, looking like she might cry.

  "Lady Alya! Oh, we were so worried!" Her breath came unevenly, hands hovering just above my bandaged ribs. I tasted blood. Each inhale sharp and shallow.

  "My lady, that is not appropriate language," Enora scolded softly, though her own face was drawn tight with concern. She approached and inspected me with brisk, anxious eyes. "The medic will arrive shortly. You might have a broken rib—possibly more. And multiple bruises."

  The medic worked in efficient silence. I bit down on a leather strap to keep from screaming as he manipulated my ribs—the pressure forced the bones back into alignment and the pain was a white firework show beneath my eyelids. When he finally stepped back, I was drenched in sweat, trembling.

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  He used organic magic to seal the bleeding, draw edges together, accelerate cellular renewal.

  "Nature still needs time. You will require rest. No strenuous activity for three days minimum; preferably a week. Pain management as prescribed."

  I barely paid attention. Too busy mentally cursing a list of people that started with Grandfather and finished with Magister Valdosta.

  Once we were alone, Hana moved to my side. She'd held herself together while the medic worked; now, eyes bright with relief and exhaustion, she set a bowl of warm water and clean towels on the bedside table. Her hands were steady but there was an edge to them as she began washing the sweat and dust from my face and chest, working carefully around the bindings.

  "You should not have—" She started, then bit the words back. Her voice stayed low. "It's too dangerous, my lady."

  I watched the tension in her jaw, the crease between her brows.

  "I'm fine." The lie tasted like iron.

  "You have fractured ribs." Her hands stilled. "You were unconscious on the training hall floor, completely unresponsive. We feared—"

  She didn't dare finish. She resumed her work, fingers occasionally rising to catch the rebel tears that fell.

  My heart bled for her. But part of me warmed. I couldn't recall the last time someone had cried out of worry for me.

  I enveloped her hand with my own and waited until she met my eyes.

  "I'll be fine, Hana. I promise."

  She sniffed. I stretched as much as my pain allowed to the small drawer on the bedside table and handed her a tissue.

  "I'm stronger than I currently look. Sturdier, too."

  I smiled, hoping to calm her. Hana wiped her tears and observed me. She offered a tentative smile, nodding—not fully convinced, but she wouldn't push it. I needed to rest.

  She helped me into a clean nightgown, moving with painstaking gentleness. Every shift sent lightning through my ribs despite the medic's work.

  "Here." She pressed a vial of pain potion into my palm. "The medic said every four hours, but—" She hesitated. "If it gets unbearable sooner, take it. I won't tell."

  I managed a weak laugh. "Thank you."

  I looked curiously as she settled on the wingback chair by the tea table, as if she intended to keep watch.

  "What are you doing?"

  "May I stay until you fall asleep?" She looked embarrassed. "What if you're uncomfortable? Or in pain? Or if you need something?"

  I chuckled. "As lovely as that would be, you need to rest as well. I promise I'm alright, and I'll see you in the morning."

  She hesitated briefly, then rose and approached.

  "Alright, my lady. But if you need me, don't hesitate to fetch me. No matter the time, I'll come."

  We held hands for a moment.

  "I know, Hana. Thank you. Goodnight."

  I haven't wished someone goodnight in a very long time.

  I watched the door close behind her.

  I spent the next few days recovering, like the doctor and Enora had instructed. On the third day, as Hana brought breakfast, she informed me that Father had requested I get ready for lunch in the dining room. My cousin would be visiting.

  As I descended the grand staircase slowly—each step a negotiation with my healing ribs—I wondered at the reason for Darius's sudden visit.

  The dining room was set with the family's finest: crystal, silver, and arrangements of white flowers glowing faintly with preservation wards to keep them from wilting out of season.

  Grandfather sat at the head of the table, Father to his right. Darius rose when I entered and offered a slight bow.

  "Cousin." He was dressed in a semi-formal suit, his hair tied back. His eyes held no malice or judgment, I noted. "I heard you were unwell. I trust you're recovered?"

  I eased into my seat next to Father. "I'm well enough, cousin." I smiled politely.

  The conversation and meal proceeded smoothly. I focused on the food in front of me and nodding politely when needed.

  I let their voices slip from my attention and blend into background sounds, until a sentence made my eyes snap from my plate.

  "Isaia's appointment as prime minister is... regrettable." Grandfather cut his meat with precise strokes, not looking in my direction. "But not catastrophic, as some are claiming. The Wielders still control the Senate. We can contain his more radical proposals."

  "For now," Father added, voice low. "But the momentum is shifting. Urban populations, younger voters—they're drawn to the new rhetoric."

  "Empty promises," Grandfather dismissed. "Once they see the economic realities of 'equality,' they'll come to their senses."

  Darius set down his glass. "There's also the Renewal Front to consider. They actually managed to snag a few seats. They're dangerous—their rallies turn violent. They're gaining attention among the nulls. Stirring the hive."

  "Terrorists," Grandfather said offhandedly. "They'll be dealt with. Won't be able to make noise for much longer."

  "And the Union?" Father asked.

  "A nuisance." Grandfather's mouth twitched in disgust. "They're gaining seats in the National Assembly and have been stealing our alliances with the Progress Coalition." He took a sip of wine. "That Lioren heir has been particularly vocal lately."

  The grip on my fork tightened. I kept my eyes carefully glued to my plate, breathing controlled.

  "Sirius Lioren," Father pronounced with distaste. "His family has been thorn-like for generations. He's taking his father's place. Speaking publicly, rallying crowds. I heard he has dangerous charisma. The sort that makes people forget their place."

  "The Liorens never knew their place," Grandfather sneered.

  "They never accept ours," Darius corrected absentmindedly. Once he realized his mistake, he corrected himself. "But the masses love to follow novelty. It will fade."

  The conversation continued about other Wielder members in the Senate. But my attention was elsewhere. I realized how painfully oblivious I'd been to the political games going on around Belaria.

  "You've gotten stronger," Darius observed as we strolled through the frost-bright garden after lunch. "I can see it in your bearing. More confident."

  I twisted to ease a stitch in my side. "Magister Valdosta is thorough."

  "Evidently." His tone was light, but his eyes flickered to my side.

  We walked a few paces in silence, breath fogging in front of us.

  "You mentioned politics at the table."

  "Poor manners in the presence of a lady, you're right. I apologize." He turned and gave me an exaggerated bow with his hand on his chest.

  I scoffed. "It's not that. I just... I must confess I haven't been paying much attention to it before."

  Darius smiled slightly. "A sudden interest in politics?"

  "My family is involving me." I shrugged. "I figured I should know who my adversaries are."

  "Practical." He nodded. "The closest party to ours is the Progress Coalition. They've been dominating the government for a while. They're center-right, though they care more about economic gain than tradition. The Renewal Front, as you heard at the table, is basically terrorists. Nulls who enjoy causing mayhem. I have no idea how they're allowed to—" He looked down at me and chose to tone down his words. "Then there's the Union. You've heard of them. Not as radical as the terrorists, but more dangerous because they operate within the system, shift opinion from inside. They also have some old families in their ranks, not to mention almost all of the wealthy nulls."

  "Old families like the Liorens?" I asked casually. Darius nodded.

  "Among others. Sirius has been... a thorn indeed."

  "Does he pose a threat?" My fingers absentmindedly twisted the shiny bracelet on my wrist.

  "Politically." Darius chose his next words carefully. "He's influential with a segment of the electorate. He seems to believe every word he says, and conviction makes men dangerous." He shrugged.

  Deciding I had prodded as much as caution allowed, I decided to ask him the only other question that had been nagging at me since morning.

  "Although your presence in the Manor is as welcome as fresh air, cousin, I must admit I'm curious. You don't make a habit of visiting without reason. What has brought you here today?"

  I examined him closely, keeping my expression and posture relaxed.

  He hesitated. Then chucked. "Need I a reason to visit my favorite cousin?"

  I could blast him on the spot. I merely raised an eyebrow.

  "Grandfather is... organizing something that requires my presence. You'll come to know in due time." Half hidden by his coat, his fingers twitched. "It's a good thing for the family, I believe. Don't worry."

  It wasn't even remotely an answer, but I decided to let it slide. It wouldn't be the first time I wasn't privy to family affairs.

  Once we reached the entrance doors, my cousin stopped. He gave me a look, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

  "I knew you were training, Alya, but not the nature of your lessons. I thought it was standard runes and maybe healing or warding magic." He glanced at my side for emphasis.

  My chest tightened.

  "I'm alright, cousin. Really."

  So my family hadn't informed him... How bizarre.

  I wondered how many secrets my father and Grandfather were keeping from us. And why...

  I returned to my room at dusk expecting the familiar warmth of Hana's eyes and the small rituals that made my days tolerable.

  Instead, I found emptiness—the hearth cold, no teapot on the table, no sign anyone had been there. I stood at the doorway, unease coiling in my chest.

  Perhaps Hana was busy elsewhere. Perhaps she needed to rest, and since I was no longer training, she'd decided to take the evening off.

  But the empty room felt wrong.

  I prepared for bed by myself, fumbling with buttons and laces Hana would usually help with. Climbed into bed.

  The silence was deafening.

  Sleep didn't come. I kept glancing at the door, expecting it to open. Expecting Hana's apologetic smile, some explanation.

  Nothing.

  A knock woke me from restless sleep. I sat up—so quickly my ribs protested—and called,

  "Come in."

  Mely entered with a breakfast tray, her expression professionally pleasant. "Good morning, Lady Alya."

  My stomach dropped.

  "Where's Hana?"

  "I'm afraid she's ill, my lady." She set the tray down. "She won't be able to attend upon you for a while."

  "Ill?" My voice came sharper than intended. "What kind of illness?"

  "I don't know the details, my lady. Madam Enora simply told me she needed to rest."

  "Where is she?"

  "The staff quarters, I believe." The maid was starting to look confused. "I'm sure she'll recover soon. Maybe she's got the flu, like I did a while back. I heard it's common this time of year."

  I stared. There was something about her tone. Too carefully neutral.

  It only heightened my uneasiness. I took a deep breath. No, maybe I'm overreacting.

  I sighed and rose from the bed.

  At the training grounds, I couldn't focus. My mind kept wandering to Hana's absence.

  "Again!" Valdosta barked.

  I tried to sense the compression in the air, the telltale pressure before the shockwave.

  BOOM.

  I failed to absorb it. At least I managed to evade the brunt of it by diving to the other side of the floor. My barely healed ribs sent painful stings as I rose.

  "Pathetic. Where is your focus?"

  Something hot and awful flared in me—anger, fear, the electric snap of someone pushed too far.

  I didn't think. Just pushed.

  Energy surged from my core, hot and barely controlled. My palms blurred with pressure and light.

  BOOM.

  A shockwave tore from me and slammed across the hall. The aftershock forced Valdosta back three steps, robes flaring, surprise flashing across his face. Then his look shifted into something harder—satisfaction, perhaps, at seeing raw potential go unchecked.

  For a few seconds, the only sound in the room was my labored breathing.

  "Adequate," he commented at last. "Uncontrolled, but adequate. We are done for today. Go."