The day before his departure, Lysander methodically prepared for his journey to the Academy. He'd already set aside the enchanted clothing from Seraphina—gifts he would accept but never wear. Instead, he packed simpler garments purchased through Lyra, the servant girl, who had proven eager to help after his small kindness.
"Your Highness, is there anything else you require?" Elias asked, hovering at the edge of the room while Lysander sorted through a collection of books.
"No, thank you. I prefer to finish packing myself." Lysander selected three volumes on magical theory—basic texts that wouldn't raise suspicion but contained principles he could apply to his blocked abilities.
After the servant departed, Lysander retrieved his hidden journal and added final notes about palace observations. The subtle shifts in guard rotations suggested Darius was increasing security around his private quarters. The increased activity among House Lunaris representatives indicated Seraphina was solidifying her alliance with them earlier than in his previous timeline.
A knock interrupted his thoughts.
"Enter," he called, quickly concealing the journal.
Emperor Tiberius himself stood in the doorway, surprising Lysander. In his previous life, his father hadn't visited him before his departure.
"Father," Lysander said, rising and bowing deeply. "I didn't expect—"
"Sit," the Emperor commanded, closing the door behind him. He looked tired, the lines around his eyes deeper than they had been during their meeting days earlier. "I wanted to speak with you privately before you leave."
Lysander sat opposite his father, carefully maintaining a neutral expression despite his racing thoughts. This was an unexpected deviation from his memories.
"Your siblings tell me you've been behaving... differently," the Emperor said, his violet eyes—so like Lysander's own—studying him intently.
"Do they?" Lysander replied noncommittally.
"Darius claims you showed unusual insight during his military demonstration. Seraphina reports you've developed unexpected social grace." The Emperor leaned forward. "Explain."
Lysander considered his options. Complete denial would seem suspicious, but revealing too much would be dangerous.
"I've realized my approach to court life has been ineffective," he said finally. "If I must attend the Academy, I should at least make the effort to improve myself."
"A convenient awakening, just as you're being sent away."
"Perhaps being sent away was the awakening I needed," Lysander countered. "Sometimes we don't appreciate what we have until it's taken from us."
The Emperor's expression remained unreadable, but something flickered in his eyes—recognition, perhaps. "You sound like your mother."
Lysander stilled. The Empress Lyanna had died when he was three—poisoned, though the official story claimed illness. In his previous life, his father had rarely mentioned her.
"I wouldn't know," Lysander said quietly.
"She had the same capacity for adaptation." The Emperor rose and walked to the window, gazing out at the city below. "The same ability to transform setbacks into opportunities."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"She also had secrets," the Emperor continued, his back still turned. "Dangerous ones."
A warning, then. Lysander chose his next words carefully. "Every member of the imperial family has secrets, Father. I'm simply learning to navigate mine better."
The Emperor turned, his expression grave. "The Academy is not the court, Lysander. Different rules apply, different powers hold sway. Your name will earn you neither favor nor protection."
"I understand."
"I don't think you do." The Emperor approached, looming over Lysander. "There are factions at the Academy with ancient grudges against our bloodline. Professors who remember the wars before the Covenant. Students whose families lost everything when the Aurelians took power."
This, too, was new information. In his previous life, his father had sent him away with barely a farewell, much less a warning.
"Why tell me this now?" Lysander asked.
"Because you're finally showing the potential I've waited for." The Emperor's voice dropped to a near whisper. "Watch for Professor Thorne. He's not what he seems."
Lysander barely suppressed his shock. Professor Thorne had been his greatest ally at the Academy, the one who had helped him discover his blocked magic. How did his father know of him?
"I'll be cautious," Lysander promised.
The Emperor studied him a moment longer before nodding. "See that you are." He moved to leave, then paused at the door. "One last thing. Reports from the Eastern Province speak of commoners manifesting magical abilities. Curious, don't you think?"
"Very," Lysander agreed, careful to show only mild interest.
"The Covenant grows weaker," the Emperor said, so softly Lysander almost missed it. Then, without another word, he departed.
Lysander remained seated, processing this unexpected conversation. His father knew about the weakening Covenant, about Professor Thorne, perhaps even about Lysander's blocked magic. The implications were staggering.
Had the Emperor been playing his own long game in Lysander's previous life? If so, why hadn't he intervened to prevent Lysander's execution?
The morning of departure arrived clear and cool. A small imperial carriage waited in the palace courtyard, unmarked except for a subtle Academy insignia—an arrangement Lysander recognized as deliberate understatement. No grand procession for the failed prince.
Crown Prince Darius was conspicuously absent, having arranged a military inspection that conveniently coincided with Lysander's departure. Princess Seraphina, however, appeared just as Lysander was about to enter the carriage.
"A moment, brother," she called, approaching with Lady Celestia Blackstone and two Lunaris attendants in tow.
"Sister," Lysander acknowledged with a bow. "Come to see me off?"
"Naturally. Family obligations must be observed." She presented a small silver box. "A parting gift. For emergencies only."
Lysander accepted it with appropriate gratitude, recognizing it as the same communication device she had given him in his previous life—enchanted to allow short messages to be sent directly to her. He had used it only once before, when desperate and cornered. She had ignored his plea for help.
"You're too kind," he said, pocketing the device.
"Remember what we discussed," Seraphina said, her voice carrying just enough warmth to appear sisterly to observers. "Find your place at the Academy, but never forget who you are."
"An Aurelian," Lysander replied, holding her gaze. "Always."
Something like respect flickered in her eyes before she stepped back, allowing him to enter the carriage.
As the palace receded behind him, Lysander considered the pieces now in play. His siblings remained predictable in their ambition, but his father had emerged as an unknown variable. The Academy awaited with both dangers and opportunities he hadn't fully appreciated in his previous life.
Most importantly, Marcus Thornwood—his future roommate and potential ally—would be meeting him today, unaware that Lysander already knew his secrets and his potential.
"The game changes," Lysander murmured as the Imperial City gave way to the countryside, "but the players remain the same."
He was ready for whatever came next.