The following night, Mira appeared at his room after dinner.
She knocked gently, almost fearfully, and when Kael opened the door, she stood there with a kerchief wrapping three honey cakes and two pieces of dark chocolate.
"Young Kael," she said in a trembling voice, not meeting his eyes.
"I... Ser Aldric said you wanted..."
"Thank you, Mira," Kael said, taking the kerchief.
"You may go."
She hesitated, as if she wanted to say something more, but finally only nodded and hurried back down the corridor.
Kael closed the door and sat on his bed, unwrapping the sweets carefully. The chocolate was melting slightly on his fingers, and the first bite was disappointing.
It didn't taste as good as he had expected. In fact, it tasted quite ordinary.
But it wasn't really about the sweets, was it?
It was about knowing he could get them. That he had seen an opportunity and taken it. That he had made two adults, a trained knight and a maidservant, do exactly what he wanted.
'First lesson,' he thought as he mechanically chewed the chocolate. 'Information is power. But only if you're willing to use it.'
'Second lesson: People will do almost anything to protect their secrets.'
'Third lesson...'
He paused, considering.
'Third lesson: This doesn't feel as good as I thought it would.'
He had expected euphoria. Triumph. The intoxicating sense of victory.
And there was some of that, yes. But there was also something else. Something cold and empty that settled in his stomach alongside the chocolate.
Mira was not a bad person. She was a victim. And he had used her. Perhaps not as cruelly as Aldric, but he had used her nonetheless.
'Does that make me bad?' he wondered.
And then, more unsettlingly: 'Do I care if I am?'
He found no answer that night. He just finished his sweets, washed his hands, and lay down staring at the ceiling as the storm roared outside.
But as he drifted off to sleep, a small smile touched his lips.
Because bad or good didn't really matter.
What mattered was that he was no longer invisible.
At least not to Mira and Aldric.
And that was a start.
The sweets kept coming for the next three days. Every night, after dinner, Mira would appear with her small wrapped package. She never spoke more than necessary, never met his eyes, simply handed over the sweets and left.
Kael ate them without much pleasure. The taste had become secondary to what they represented: tangible proof that he had learned something important.
But on the fourth day, something changed.
Kael was in the secondary library—because Sareth had a private music lesson that Elyn had insisted he take, 'he only needs at least one refined skill if he cannot be a warrior'—when he heard familiar footsteps approaching.
He looked up from his book just as Lyssara walked in.
She closed the door behind her. And locked it.
Kael felt his pulse accelerate, but he kept his face perfectly neutral.
"Cousin," he said in a polite tone, using the correct technical term. They shared a father but not a mother, which made them half-siblings, but in the complexities of nobility, "cousin" was sometimes more appropriate.
"Kael," Lyssara replied, and her voice was cold as scraped ice.
"We need to talk."
She approached with measured steps, her dark blue dress rustling against the stone floor. At thirteen, she already moved with the kind of deliberate control that most people took decades to learn.
She sat in the chair opposite him, crossing her hands on her lap, and studied him with those calculating grey eyes that saw too much.
"I noticed something interesting," she said.
"Mira, the kitchen maid, has been visiting your room every night after dinner."
Kael didn't react. Not visibly. But his mind raced.
'How did she know? Has she been watching me? Why?'
"I didn't know you paid attention to the movements of the maidservants," he said carefully.
"I pay attention to everything," Lyssara corrected.
"It's a useful habit. And when I see unusual patterns, I investigate."
"It's nothing important. She just brings me..."
"Sweets. I know," Lyssara leaned slightly forward.
"What I wonder is: why? Mira has never shown particular affection for you. In fact, she works mainly in the kitchens and rarely interacts with the family outside the dining hall. Yet, suddenly, she's making personal deliveries. Every night. Without fail."
Kael realized he had seriously underestimated Lyssara.
'She didn't just notice the pattern,' he understood. 'She's looking for the explanation. And she probably already has theories.'
"Perhaps she just likes me," he tried.
Lyssara laughed. It was not a cheerful laugh. It was the sound of someone who had just heard something absurdly naive.
"Please. No one in this mansion does anything without a reason. Especially not the maidservants, who understand better than anyone that every action has consequences."
She stood up, walking toward the window, deliberately turning her back on him. It was a show of confidence, or perhaps disdain. She was saying she didn't consider him a physical threat.
"So I investigated further," she continued.
"And I found out that Ser Aldric has been, shall we say, unusually interested in Mira for the last few weeks. And that four nights ago, they were both seen near the stables at midnight."
'Shit.'
"And then I remembered something," Lyssara turned around, her eyes locking onto Kael's.
"Four nights ago, I couldn't sleep. I was strolling the corridors when I saw a small figure, too small to be an adult, slipping toward the stables."
Kael kept his face impassive, but his mind screamed.
'She saw me. She saw me and didn't say anything. She's been waiting. Watching. Building the whole puzzle before confronting me.'
'Just like I would do.'
"Impressive investigative work," he finally said, deciding that denial was useless.
"What do you want?"
Lyssara smiled. It was a small smile, sharp as a dagger.
"There it is. No attempts at denial. No excuses. Straight to business," she sat down again, this time closer.
"You're smarter than I thought, Kael. Which makes me wonder what else you've been hiding."
"I'm only eight years old," he pointed out.
"I haven't had much time to hide things."
"And yet, you've already learned basic blackmail. Fascinating," Lyssara tilted her head, studying him like a hawk studying prey.
"So here is my question: what was your Resonance Ceremony really like?"
Kael felt his blood run cold.
'There it is. The real reason for this conversation.'
"You already know the result," he said carefully.
"Moderate, with decent potential."
"Yes, that's what the priest declared," Lyssara leaned in even closer, dropping her voice to a whisper.
"But I was there, Kael. And I saw something no one else saw. Or that they saw but chose to ignore."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"The crystal glowed normally. Drayvar blue. That was expected," her eyes narrowed.
"But for a fraction of a second, I saw a greater flash."
The silence that followed was so heavy Kael could feel it crushing him.
"That's impossible," he finally said.
"The crystal cannot give two glows. It doesn't work..."
"I know. That's why I didn't say anything. Because it shouldn't be possible," Lyssara leaned back, but her eyes never left his.
"But I saw it. And I've been waiting to see if you knew what it meant."
"I don't know," Kael admitted, and it was true.
"I never knew. I thought I'd imagined it."
"You didn't. And neither did I," Lyssara tapped her fingers against the arm of the chair, thinking.
"Which means you're something different. I don't know what. But different."
"And what do you plan to do with that information?"
It was the same question he had used with Aldric. Information as currency. Secrets as power.
Lyssara realized and smiled with appreciation.
"For now, nothing," she stood up, smoothing her dress.
"But I want you to know that I know. And that I'm watching. Because if you're smart enough to blackmail a knight at eight years old, and if you have something strange in your blood that even the priests can't explain..."
She walked toward the door, unlocking the bolt.
"Then maybe you are the most interesting person in this boring mansion. And that, dear cousin, makes you someone worth knowing."
She opened the door, but stopped in the threshold.
"Oh, and Kael. A suggestion. If you're going to keep extorting people, make sure no one else is watching. Because next time, the person who discovers you might not be as understanding as I am."
And she left, leaving Kael alone in the library with a forgotten book on his lap and a million thoughts racing through his head.
'Lyssara knows. About the sweets. About the blackmail. About the confusing flash in my ceremony.'
'And she didn't use it against me.'
'Why?'
The answer came slowly, like clearing fog.
'Because she wants to see what I do. She's testing me. Evaluating whether I'm useful or just curious.'
'Just like I would do.'
Kael closed his book and looked toward the door where Lyssara had disappeared.
'Very well,' he thought. 'If she wants to watch, let her watch. But she's not the only one who can play this game.'
For the first time since he had taken those sweets from Mira, Kael felt something more than that cold emptiness.
He felt excitement.
Because Lyssara had just shown him something important—he wasn't alone in seeing the world as a chessboard.
And that meant he had finally found someone worth playing with.
Even if she didn't know yet that the game had begun.