Lyssara was lying flat on her back on the grass, her arms crossed behind her head as an improvised pillow. She wore a simple, comfortable tunic, a far cry from the corsets and heavy things her mother insisted she wear. Her eyes were closed, enjoying the breeze that gently moved the leaves of the ancient oaks surrounding the perimeter.
A few feet away from her, sitting with his back against the trunk of one of those oaks, was Sareth. His legs were stretched out and a thick, leather-bound book rested on his knees. The rhythmic sound of pages turning was the only thing breaking the silence, mingling with the distant singing of a bird.
"You're turning the page too fast."
"Either you're not really reading, or you're just looking at the pictures."
Sareth paused mid-page.
"I am reading," he replied, defensively but calmly.
"It's a chronicle of the War of the Three Banners. It's interesting. It talks about how logistics failed more than combat strategies."
"Boring," Lyssara declared, opening one eye to look at him.
"Nobody cares how many sacks of gold were lost in the mud, Sareth. What matters is who won and who lost their head."
"Without gold, there are no soldiers, and without soldiers, there are no heads to cut," Sareth countered, adjusting his posture.
"It's important. Kael would read this."
Lyssara sighed and sat up, propping herself up on her elbows. She shook her head to remove some blades of grass from her hair.
"But Kael isn't here. We are."
She looked around. The garden was empty. The gardeners had finished their shift an hour ago, and her mother was in her chambers preparing for dinner, probably torturing some maid with the choice of her jewels. Her father, as always, was an invisible shadow in the north tower study.
It was time.
Lyssara sat up completely, crossing her legs. Her expression changed. The relaxation disappeared, replaced by that calculating look she had been perfecting in front of the mirror.
"Close the book, Sareth. I need to talk to you. Seriously."
Sareth noticed the change in tone. He marked the page with a piece of ribbon and carefully closed the volume, placing it on the grass beside him.
"What's wrong? Is it about tomorrow's training? I swear I'll try to do the push-ups faster, but my arms..."
"It's not about training," Lyssara cut him off.
"It's about what comes next."
She leaned in a little toward him, instinctively lowering her voice, even though no one was around.
"I'm leaving, Sareth. In two weeks, maybe three. The Imperial Academy acceptance letter will arrive any day now. Father already has everything arranged."
Sareth nodded, his face darkening slightly.
"I know. The house is going to feel so empty. Without Kael, without Rylan... and now without you. I'll be left alone with them."
He meant their parents. The prospect of being alone under Varen's indifference and Elyn's criticism was not encouraging for him.
The Drayvar mansion had been a hive of activity just six months ago. Rylan, the perfect heir, had left for the Imperial Academy four months ago, taking with him the noise of his morning training and the constant clanging of steel against steel. His absence had left a void that Varen felt deeply, even if he never admitted it out loud.
Kael, on the other hand, had been missing for three weeks. Officially, he was "visiting trade allies" with Aldric as escort. Varen had not asked questions. He knew his fourth son was unpredictable, but he also knew that the boy had an unsettling ability to emerge unscathed from impossible situations. Elyn, for her part, had celebrated internally the absence of Syra's son. Less competition for Rylan, less discomfort at the dinner table.
Rumors of Arven had reached Stormvale a week ago. Fragments of stories about two noble Houses collapsing in a single night, fires, scandals, mysterious deaths. The names of Kladis and Torren circulated in whispers among the merchants bringing goods from the south. But no one connected those events with a ten-year-old boy. Why would they?
The mansion, which used to be full of voices and movement, now looked like a mausoleum. The halls echoed with the footsteps of the solitary. Servants spoke in low voices, as if afraid to break the silence. And Sareth, the forgotten son, moved through the shadows as he always had, invisible and ignored.
"Exactly," said Lyssara. "You're going to stay here. And that's exactly what I need."
Sareth looked at her, confused.
"What do you need?"
"I need you to stay here and not just be a piece of furniture," Lyssara said directly.
"When I cross the gates of Stormvale towards Vaeloria, I'll be blind. I won't know what's happening in this house. I won't know what mood Father is in, what craziness Mother is planning, or if Rylan returns with some stupid idea."
She ripped out a handful of grass and slowly let it fall through her fingers.
"Official letters lie, Sareth. Father will write about family honor and Mother about parties and dresses. No one will tell me the truth. No one will tell me if there are problems with taxes, if there are rumors of war on the border, or if Kael sends a secret message."
She looked her brother in the eyes.
"I need a partner. I need someone inside. Someone I can trust to tell me everything the others want to hide."
Sareth blinked, processing the information. He pointed to himself with a finger, incredulously.
"Me? You want me to be your... spy?"
"Don't call it a spy. It sounds dirty," Lyssara made a face.
"Call him... my liaison. My eyes."
"But Lyssara, I don't find out anything," Sareth protested, shrugging.
"Father doesn't even look at me. The guards ignore me. I'm invisible in this house."
"That's why you're perfect," Lyssara smiled, and it was a genuine, almost predatory smile.
"Don't you get it? No one watches what they say in front of the furniture. No one lowers their voice when you walk by because they think you're harmless, that you're in your world with your books. You have the best disguise of all, Sareth."
Sareth looked down, hurt by the word, though he knew it was true.
"It hurts when you say it like that."
"The truth hurts, but it's useful," Lyssara said, softening her tone a little.
"I'm not telling you to hurt you. I'm telling you to use it. Use it to your advantage. Listen behind doors. Pay attention to the messengers. Talk to the servants—they know everything. And then, write to me. Everything. No filters."
Sareth bit his lower lip, thinking. The idea scared him but also gave him a strange excitement. Being part of something. Being needed.
"And what do I get?" he asked, surprising himself with his audacity.
Maybe Lyssara's training was starting to take effect on his character.
Lyssara raised an eyebrow, impressed.
"Good. I like that."
She settled back better on the grass.
"You gain protection. While I'm at the Academy, I'll make connections. I'll meet powerful people. If Father tries to send you somewhere horrible, or if Mother tries to marry you off to some merchant's daughter you can't stand, I'll intervene. I'll have influence. And I'll send you money. My own money, not the family's. So you can buy the books you want, or whatever you need without having to ask Mother for permission."
The offer was tempting. Financial freedom and a powerful ally.
"Besides," Lyssara added,
"I'm giving you a purpose. You stop being the spare brother and become the guardian of the House from the shadows."
Sareth looked at the book beside him. He thought of the stories of strategy. He had always admired the counselors, those who pulled the strings without being on the front lines.
"What about Carmen?" Sareth asked suddenly.
Lyssara blinked.
"The girl from the library? What about her?"
"She knows things," Sareth said, gaining confidence.
"Her father manages the archives. She listens to the scribes. If I'm going to do this... I'll need help. I can't be everywhere."
Lyssara nodded slowly.
"That seems fine to me. If you trust her, use her. But be careful. The more people who know, the more risk there is."
"I trust her," Sareth said firmly.
"Good. Then Carmen is in the game. But you are responsible for her."
Lyssara leaned closer, her face becoming very serious. Her eyes locked onto Sareth's with an intensity that made him want to back away, but he held firm.
"There is one more condition, Sareth. The most important one."
"Which one?"
"This is between you and me. Kael can't know."
Sareth frowned.
"Why? Kael is our brother. He... he does these kinds of things all the time. I'm sure he'd think it was fine."
"Exactly. He does these things. He plays his own game," Lyssara said, with a hint of coldness.
"Kael is unpredictable. He disappears, plots, manipulates. We don't know what his ultimate goals are. If he knows you report to me, he'll try to use you. He'll try to control the information that reaches me."
Lyssara placed a hand on Sareth's knee.
"I want to be the Head of House Drayvar, Sareth."
Sareth opened his mouth, surprised.
"You? But... Rylan is the oldest. And he's a man. Tradition..."
"To hell with tradition," Lyssara cut in.
"Rylan is a brute with a hammer instead of a brain. If Rylan inherits, the House will go to ruin in five years or he'll get us into a war we can't win. And Kael... Kael is brilliant, but he's dangerous. He's unstable. He doesn't care about the family; he cares about chaos."
Sareth processed this. He had never heard his sister speak so frankly about her ambitions. He had always assumed she would marry someone and leave.
"You want to rule Stormvale?" he asked.
"I want to protect it," Lyssara corrected. "And to protect it, I have to control it. Rylan would destroy us out of stupidity. Kael would destroy us out of unbridled ambition. I'm the only rational option."
Sareth looked at her. He saw the determination on her face. He saw the strength she had been hiding under layers of etiquette and beautiful dresses. And he realized she was right. Lyssara was the only one who truly cared about maintaining balance.
"Kael will be angry if he finds out we're conspiring behind his back," Sareth said, with a bit of fear.
A movement in the periphery of their vision made both siblings fall abruptly silent. A figure had appeared on the gravel path bordering the garden.
It was one of the young maids, carrying a basket of white laundry toward the servants' quarters. She didn't look directly at them. She probably didn't even know they were there, hidden among the elongated shadows of the oaks.
But her mere presence was enough.
Lyssara and Sareth remained motionless, like stone statues. They didn't look at each other. They didn't speak. They just waited, counting the seconds as the maid crossed the garden with hurried steps, disappearing through the side door that led to the kitchens.
The sound of the door closing echoed in the silence.
Sareth let out the breath he had been holding. His heart was beating faster than normal. He realized, with sudden clarity, how dangerous what they were planning was. It wasn't a game. If they were overheard, if anyone suspected...
Lyssara, however, seemed unaffected. She just waited a few more seconds, making sure the maid wouldn't return, before continuing as if nothing had happened.
"Kael will respect the game if we play it well," Lyssara said, her voice now barely a whisper, more cautious.
"But for now, absolute silence. Not a word. Not to him, not to Aldric if he returns, not to anyone. Understood?"
Sareth looked towards the mansion. The dark windows looked like eyes watching them. He felt small, but for the first time, he didn't feel alone. He had a mission.
But he was also afraid. Afraid of failing. Afraid of disappointing Lyssara. And most of all, afraid of what would happen if Kael discovered they were playing without him.
Kael was not cruel to Sareth. He never had been. But Sareth had seen what Kael did to his enemies. He had heard the stories. And a small, dark part of his mind whispered: 'What if Kael decides I'm an enemy?'
He swallowed.
'No,' he told himself. 'This isn't treason. This is survival. Lyssara is right. Someone has to protect this family. And if Kael is playing his own game... then we can play ours too.'
He looked at Lyssara and nodded.
"Understood. You and I."
Lyssara smiled and patted him on the shoulder.
"Good. I knew I could count on you. You're smarter than you look, little brother."
"I hope so," Sareth murmured. "Because if Father finds out you want his position before he lets go of it, he'll kill us both."
"Father will never let go of the position. We'll have to convince him when the time comes," Lyssara said, standing up and shaking the grass from her tunic. "But that's a long way off. First, the Academy. First, the information."
She held out her hand to help Sareth up.
"Let's go. It's starting to get chilly and I'm hungry. And tomorrow, I want you to formally introduce me to that Carmen. If she's going to be part of our network, I want to see if she has guts or if she just knows how to organize books."
Sareth took her hand and stood up. He picked up his book.
They walked together along the stone path. The afternoon fell over Stormvale, bringing long shadows. To any observer, they were just two siblings returning from a moment of leisure in the garden.
But between them, the air had changed. They were no longer just Lyssara and Sareth, the younger siblings. They were partners. And on the invisible chessboard of House Drayvar, they had just made their first independent move.
"Sareth," Lyssara said before they went inside.
"Yes?"
"Tomorrow at training... don't complain so much. If you're going to be my right hand, you have to look a little tougher."
Sareth sighed, but there was a new lightness in his steps.
"I'll try. But I don't promise anything about the push-ups."
They entered the mansion, leaving the garden and the innocence of the conversation behind, carrying a secret that weighed more than any sword.