The King returned the next afternoon.
He did not bring guards into the room.
He did bring flowers.
Aurelia looked at the white lilies in his hands.
“They make Azalea sneeze.”
He stopped.
After a moment, he set them outside.
When he came back, his hands were empty.
“Thank you for telling me.”
Aurelia sat at the infirmary window with a book open across her knees.
She had read the same page four times.
Azalea slept.
Theo had gone to collect assignments. Voss worked in the adjoining office.
For the first time, Aurelia and her father were nearly alone.
He took the chair farthest from the bed.
“I spoke to your grandparents.”
Her fingers tightened around the book.
“What did they say?”
“That you were not ready to discuss my intentions through anyone else.”
That sounded like Grandmother.
“And Grandfather?”
A brief, unhappy smile crossed his face.
“He asked whether I needed directions.”
Aurelia looked down.
She could almost hear it.
Their father studied the room.
“I used to think sending you there was the safest decision available.”
“For whom?”
He accepted the question.
“For you, I told myself.”
“What changed?”
He looked toward Azalea.
“Nothing changed. That was the problem.”
Aurelia waited.
“Your mother found the separation painful. I found it easier to discuss you when the conversation concerned reports. Your health. Your lessons. Your development.”
“As though I was a territory.”
His expression tightened.
“Yes.”
She had not expected agreement.
It left her with nowhere convenient to put her anger.
“Did you know what I was learning?”
“Your grandfather said you were gifted.”
“You didn’t ask how?”
“No.”
The book trembled slightly in her hands.
Her father noticed.
He did not reach for it.
“I am not asking you to make this easier for me.”
“Good. Because I don’t know how.”
* * *
The brothers waited outside when he left.
Matteo stepped into her path.
“What?”
His eyes narrowed.
“We need to speak.”
“Then speak.”
“Father has enough burdens without being confronted beside a sickbed.”
Aurelia stared at him.
Behind Matteo, Luca shifted.
Nico looked uncomfortable.
Rafael remained expressionless.
“He asked me a question,” Aurelia said. “I answered.”
“You know how your words sounded.”
“Yes.”
“Then you could have chosen them more carefully.”
Something cold settled beneath her ribs.
She looked at the instructor insignia on his coat.
“You teach students to assess a threat before reacting.”
“This isn’t a lesson.”
“No. It’s apparently a warning.”
Matteo drew a breath.
Aurelia continued before he could speak.
“You came here for Azalea. You have done that well. You checked her injuries, her food, her classes. Keep doing it.”
“Aurelia—”
“But don’t come to me because my existence has made Father uncomfortable.”
No one moved.
Luca looked up.
“We didn’t know you felt—”
“Forgotten?”
He flinched.
Aurelia’s anger faltered at the sight.
She resented that too.
“You were little,” she said to him quietly. “Once.”
Then she walked away.
* * *
Nia found her on the residence roof.
Technically, students weren’t permitted there.
Nia had apparently interpreted that as a design challenge.
She pushed through the hatch carrying two mugs and a folded scarf.
“For your hair,” Nia said, handing it over. “The wind is doing too much.”
Aurelia tied it over her twists, grateful for something useful to do with her hands.
“Tea.”
Aurelia accepted one.
Wind moved over the slate tiles. Far below, lanterns were lighting along the paths.
After a while, Nia said, “I’m terrible at comforting people.”
“You’re doing adequately.”
“Excellent. I was about to recommend a felony.”
Aurelia laughed softly.
Then she began to cry again.
Nia sat beside her without comment.
For several minutes, there was only wind and the distant sound of students calling to one another.
Eventually, Aurelia said, “I used to think they would come if I became good enough.”
Nia’s face changed.
“I know better now.”
“Knowing better doesn’t erase what you learned first.”
Aurelia held the mug between her palms.
It was warm enough to hurt.
She welcomed the distraction.
* * *
Later, they opened the equipment ledger.
Nia had obtained access through a legitimate student request.
Mostly legitimate.
“The assessment basin was marked for replacement,” she said.
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
Aurelia leaned closer.
Beside the entry was an authorization code.
The west corridor handrail had been serviced under the same code.
She stared at it.
Two locations.
One signature.