Sleep did not come easily to Lucian.
It never had, not really. Even back on the farm, before the system, before the Veil, before everything, he'd spent countless nights staring at the ceiling, listening to the wind move through the fields, his mind too restless to settle. Tonight was worse. The tournament loomed. The Council was watching. And somewhere in the back of his mind, a question echoed that he couldn't answer and couldn't ignore.
Who was his father?
He threw off the blanket and stood.
The dorm was quiet. Derek's room was silent—no pacing, no muttered conversations with Dr. Blackwood. Mason's room was dark. Sera's door was closed. Cora's room was at the end of the hall, and for a moment, he considered knocking. But no. This wasn't something he could talk away.
He dressed in training clothes—dark pants, a thin jacket, his twin blades strapped across his back. Then he slipped out of the dorm and into the night.
---
The training yard was empty.
