Time: Early Afternoon
Age: Elira – 6 years, Kael – 3 years
The practice courtyard was quieter than usual.
Elira sat on the stone steps beneath the shade of a flowering tree, a thin
book resting unopened on her lap. She was not reading. She was watching.
Across the courtyard, Kael stood with a wooden sword almost too large for
his small hands. His grip was imperfect, his stance unbalanced—but his eyes
were focused, tracking the movements of the palace guard assigned to supervise
him.
"Again," the guard said patiently.
Kael swung.
The strike was clumsy. The guard corrected his
wrist, adjusted his feet.
Elira noted something odd.
Kael repeated the mistake once.
Then never again.
He did not learn by repetition.
He learned by pattern.
The guard frowned slightly. "You're adapting
quickly."
Kael tilted his head. "You move your left foot
first."
The guard blinked. "What?"
"Before you block," Kael said calmly. "Every time."
There was a brief pause.
Elira felt it—the moment attention shifted.
The guard laughed softly. "You watch too
much."
Kael nodded. "Yes."
The guard did not correct him again.
Instead, he changed his stance.
Kael missed the next strike—but his eyes lit
up, not with frustration, but understanding.
Elira closed her book.
They're
beginning to see him, she thought.
Later that afternoon, Lady Mereth arrived
unexpectedly.
"Second Princess," she said, inclining her head. "His Majesty has requested
that the young prince be evaluated."
Elira stood immediately. "Kael?"
"Yes," Lady Mereth replied. "Informally."
Kael looked up. "Evaluated for what?"
Lady Mereth hesitated. "Curiosity."
Elira understood at once.
Curiosity in the palace was never harmless.
The evaluation took place in a small side chamber, not the formal hall. Two
officials were present—neither smiling, neither unkind. Papers lay neatly
arranged on the table.
"Simple questions," one said. "Nothing more."
Kael sat with his feet dangling from the chair.
"What is this?" the man asked, placing a carved tile on the table.
Kael studied it. "A calendar marker."
"How do you know?"
"It has two scratches," Kael replied. "One for planting, one for harvest."
The second official leaned forward slightly.
"And this?" Another tile. Different markings.
Kael frowned—not in confusion, but concentration.
"A mistake," he said.
The room stilled.
"A mistake?" the first man repeated.
"The pattern is wrong," Kael said calmly. "The
third mark should be deeper. Otherwise the count ends early."
Silence followed.
Elira's hands curled slightly at her sides.
Kael,
she thought. Too clear.
The second official smiled faintly.
"Interesting observation."
That was the word they used when they did not
yet know what to do with something.
After the evaluation, Kael was dismissed with
polite nods.
As they walked back through the corridors, Elira slowed her steps.
"You spoke too directly," she said gently.
Kael looked up at her. "Was it wrong?"
"No," Elira replied. "But it was noticeable."
Kael considered this. "Then next time… I'll be
slower."
Elira stopped walking.
She knelt in front of him, meeting his eyes.
"No," she said quietly. "Next time, you'll
decide who should notice."
Kael's brows furrowed as he thought.
Then he nodded.
"I understand."
That evening, the palace whispered.
Nothing loud. Nothing dangerous.
Just questions.
Why was the Second Princess suddenly educated?
Why was the younger prince being observed?
Why now?
Elira sat by the window in their shared
chamber, watching lanterns light the courtyard below.
"We can't go back," Kael said softly.
"No," Elira replied. "But we can choose how
forward looks."
She rested her hand lightly on his shoulder.
"For now," she continued, "we remain quiet."
Kael leaned against her. "Quiet doesn't mean
weak."
Elira smiled faintly.
"No," she agreed. "It means they will
underestimate how much time we've had to think."
Outside, the palace settled into night.
And somewhere beyond the lantern light,
decisions were being reconsidered—not because of rebellion or brilliance—
But because two small figures had appeared
where none were expected.
And they did not disappear again.