I held the stance as Caspian walked around me, his steps the only noise in the courtyard. I knew he was examining my form, looking for weakness and poor posture as the weight of the axe remained steady in my grip. The Dririan axe was one I could wield with a single hand, even though it was considered massive by human standards. The haft was thick and polished smooth from use, the double-bladed head gleaming where the morning light caught its edge. It had been gifted to me from family members in Polec once I made my public debut, so it was appropriately sized for a thirteen-year-old boy. Caspian has said he was sure I could handle a full size one, but to keep suspicions low, he intended to make me use the training axe.

  My muscles burned from the repetition, my body already coated in a light sheen of sweat despite the cool summer breeze rolling through the palace grounds. But there was something satisfying about the ache, something real and grounding about the way the axe pulled at my arm with every swing. I could feel my heart thudding in my chest, could feel the familiar rhythm of strain and breath that only came from days of constant training.

  Caspian made sure I started my days outside, training with the axe until he decided I was done, and then lessons until lunch. I usually had my afternoons to myself, which I spent in the library looking for new books that hadn’t been in Isadora’s palace. I had only found a few, and they still hadn’t contained any of the knowledge I was looking for. My suspicions that the books I wanted were in the main palace only grew, but I knew I wasn’t allowed in the main palace unless I was personally invited.

  “Good,” Caspian’s voice broke me from my thoughts, and I straightened slightly, loosening my grip as I relaxed the stance. He was still circling me, slow and methodical, his hands tucked neatly behind his back. Every step he took was deliberate, his gaze focused not on my weapon, but on how I moved with it—on how I carried its weight, how I allowed it to become an extension of myself rather than just a tool in my hand.

  “Your balance is improving,” he said after a moment, finally coming to a stop a few paces in front of me. “You’re adjusting to the weapon’s draw, but you still overcompensate on your left swing. That could be exploited if someone catches the pattern.”

  “I know,” I admitted, letting the axe rest against the ground for a moment, the flat of the blade catching the sun. “I’m still figuring out how to keep the momentum without dragging my shoulder.”

  “You’ll learn. Dririan axes are unwieldy by design,” Caspian said simply. “The trick is not fighting its weight. You guide it, but you don’t try to control it too tightly. Too much tension will throw you off.”

  Caspian reached for the weapon and I let him take it as he shifted his own stance. Just like me, it was obvious he could wield the axe one handed, but he gripped it with two hands, even if his grip was different from me. Where I had relied on strength, Caspian relied on precision. His lower grip on the haft was loose, almost relaxed, but when he moved, it was with fluidity that made the weapon seem light—like it belonged to him. He guided it through a series of practiced arcs, each swing carving the air with controlled intention, no wasted motion. His movements were quiet, his steps deliberate, the muscles in his arms shifting only as much as necessary. It was obvious that no matter what weapon Caspian held, he could master it in a short time.

  I watched carefully, the ache in my arm fading beneath my focus. He wasn’t showing off, and there was nothing performative in his demonstration. It was quiet mastery, a kind of discipline I hadn’t seen before—like every part of his body had memorized the weight of the weapon so thoroughly it no longer required thought. Just clean, intentional movement that cut the air in front of him with the ease of someone who had learned the language of the blade and spoken it fluently for years. I wasn’t even sure he was trying to teach me at that moment. He was just… moving. Practicing the same as I was, showing me what it looked like when every strike served a purpose.

  When he finally let the axe fall still, he turned it over in his hands, inspecting the edge the same way he had inspected my form—calm, calculating, without judgment. Then he offered it back, and I took it without a word, adjusting my grip as I waited for his next instruction.

  “That’s enough for today,” he said simply, stepping back. “Cool down, then clean your weapon. If it dulls, you’ll have to sharpen it yourself.”

  “I know.” I pulled the weight of the axe against my shoulder, already shifting my stance again out of habit. But Caspian didn’t move to leave immediately. His gaze lingered on me for a moment longer, unreadable as ever.

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  “I’ll be leaving this afternoon,”

  “Where?”

  “Near Pyraxia. There’s been a report of a creature harassing merchants along the border. It’s apparently on the Naeran side, so I’ll be dealing with it,” he replied, his tone devoid of urgency, as if he were discussing the weather or another lesson. I nodded, knowing that Caspian wouldn’t tell me more unless he thought it mattered.

  “I’ll be gone for at least a week,” Caspian continued, brushing a speck of dust from his cuff with the same indifference he brought to all matters. He only seemed to show emotion if he found something amusing, although I doubted that those who didn’t know him would be able to tell the difference. “Which means Isadora will be overseeing your lessons until I return. You’re to treat her instructions the same as mine.”

  I tightened my grip on the axe at that, not out of annoyance but because I had been waiting for this. I schooled my expression into something neutral, mirroring his as I fought to hide my excitement. “Okay.”

  Caspian gave a brief nod, his gaze still steady on mine. He didn’t ask if I had anything to say and he didn’t warn me not to get into trouble while he was gone. Others likely thought he was treating me this way because I wasn’t his actual son, filled with empathy for his indifference, but I didn’t doubt Caspian would treat his actual children this way. Stoicism seemed to just be who he was, and it didn’t bother me in the slightest. In fact, I preferred how he treated me with respect, even if it was respect for a child rather than an adult.

  After another moment, he turned and left, his footsteps quiet on the stone. I watched him go until he disappeared into the corridor leading back toward the front of the palace, then adjusted my stance again. I went through the cooldown motions more from habit than necessity, the burn in my limbs already fading as my mind shifted gears.

  A glow beneath my shirt caught my attention and I quickly finished my routine, sliding the training axe back into the rack. I had to fight the desire to grip the crystal under my shirt as I darted back into the palace, my steps already carrying more urgency than I meant to show. It wasn’t quite time for lunch yet, so I decided to head to the library, knowing it would be just as private as my room. After all, only members of the imperial family older than twelve were allowed in the libraries, and I nodded as the door opened for me.

  As soon as the door closed behind me, I leapt up into my window, glancing out to watch Caspian make his way back to Isadora’s palace. I finally pulled the crystal from underneath my shirt, holding it tightly as Tritetia’s voice came from the small blue crystal.

  “What is it, Tritetia?” I kept my voice even, not wanting her to hear the slight anticipation in my voice.

  “I… wanted to let you know your mother’s future is the same,” her voice was soft, almost a whisper, and it didn’t take me long to tell she was in the alcove. Valaine’s voice was carrying through the garden, clearly looking for Tritetia. “I’m sorry it took me so long to reach out–”

  “Don’t. I’m sure Valaine has insisted on having all of your time, especially since you’re here so early this year,” I leaned back in the window, allowing a slight smile on my face. “I was going to invite you to my palace so we could talk.”

  “Oh… I…”

  “Do you want to come?” I asked, noticing the hesitation in her voice. Not being able to see her face made it harder to guess why, but knowing Tritetia, she was probably torn between wanting to come and not wanting to impose. As we had gotten older, it didn’t take long to notice how much Tritetia wanted to be left alone and not dragged around by Valaine. “I can show you some books I found in the library here.”

  “But… I’m not Naeran…”

  “No one can stop me if I bring the books out of the library,” I chuckled, watching as Caspian’s dark form finally disappeared from sight. “I do it all the time and no one stops me. Besides, one of the books might have what we’re looking for.”

  “Oh… okay,” I barely heard Tritetia’s voice as Valaine’s got louder and I resisted the desire to laugh as I could hear her scrambling. “I… I have to go before–”

  “Go. I’ll send an invite later.” I released the crystal as I spoke, letting a true smile spread on my face. With Caspian leaving, I finally had the opportunity I was looking for. To invite Seymour and Tritetia to my palace and let Seymour set the stage for me to kill him. The sooner I could eliminate him. the better, and considering his father was likely one of the merchants affected by the monster, his estate was likely empty. I could easily confirm the truth by reaching out to Yssac, but I didn’t want to raise any suspicions that I was interested in Seymour.

  “Time to play,” I muttered to myself as I leapt down from the window, quickly heading out down to my room. I didn’t usually visit my room during the day, but if I wanted a chance for my invitation to reach Amalia and Seymour in time to have them visit when Tritetia did, I needed to send it as soon as possible. Yssac had changed, but Seymour had not.

  Better to behead the beast before it could bite.