Time: Morning
Age: Elira – 6 years, Kael – 3 years
The tutor arrived before sunrise.
Elira knew something was wrong the moment the palace bells rang earlier than usual. Servants moved quickly through the corridors, their faces serious. No one spoke to her unless necessary.
When the door opened, the man who entered did not look like a scholar.
He wore simple robes, but his posture was straight, his eyes sharp and observant. He bowed with perfect precision.
"I am Master Ruen," he said. "By order of the Empress Dowager, I will oversee your instruction."
Oversee.
Not teach.
Elira nodded politely. "I will listen well."
Master Ruen studied her for a long moment, as if measuring the space she occupied. Then his gaze shifted—briefly, but clearly—to Kael.
"And the boy?" he asked.
Kael stepped forward calmly. "I am Kael."
"You will remain," Master Ruen said. "Today."
Elira's heart skipped. This had not been mentioned.
They were led not to a study hall, but to a quiet pavilion near the Inner Court. Guards stood at a distance, close enough to hear, far enough to pretend privacy.
Master Ruen did not begin with books.
Instead, he placed a sheet of paper on the table.
"Write your name," he said to Elira.
She did so carefully, her strokes neat but unadorned.
"Again," he said.
She wrote it once more.
Then he slid the paper toward Kael. "You too."
Kael hesitated—just a breath—then wrote. His characters were smaller, simpler.
Master Ruen compared the two.
"You both learned early," he said. It was not a compliment.
He looked at Elira. "Who taught you to read?"
"A maid," Elira answered truthfully. "Long ago."
"And who taught you discipline?"
Elira glanced at Kael for the smallest moment before lowering her eyes. "I taught myself."
Master Ruen smiled faintly.
"Interesting," he murmured.
Then he asked questions—not about history, but about choices.
"What would you do," he asked Elira, "if you were given something you did not ask for, but could not refuse?"
Elira thought carefully. "I would learn how to keep it without harming others."
"And if others were harmed simply by you keeping it?"
Elira's fingers tightened. "Then I would try to become harmless."
Kael's head lifted slightly at that.
Master Ruen turned to him. "And you, boy? What would you do?"
Kael met his gaze. "I would learn why it was given."
Silence followed.
One of the guards shifted.
Master Ruen exhaled slowly. "That answer," he said, "is dangerous."
He stood. "Today's lesson ends here."
Before leaving, he paused beside Elira. "You are careful. That will protect you—for now."
Then, quieter, "But careful children grow into complicated adults."
After he left, Elira finally breathed out.
"That wasn't a lesson," she whispered.
"No," Kael replied. "It was an evaluation."
Later that day, the palace buzzed with restrained movement.
New instructions were issued. Elira's schedule was revised again. Kael was assigned an attendant who watched too closely and spoke too little.
By evening, a rumor reached Elira through a trembling maid.
"They say the Empress Dowager is deciding whether you should be… formally acknowledged," the maid whispered. "Or formally limited."
That night, Elira sat beside Kael, the moonlight pale on the floor.
"Kael," she said softly, "are we in danger?"
Kael was quiet for a long time.
"Yes," he said at last. "But not the kind that strikes suddenly."
He looked at her seriously. "This is the kind that waits for you to grow."
Elira hugged her knees, feeling the weight of the day settle deep in her chest.
The empire had begun testing them—not with force, but with questions.
And Elira understood something frightening and clear:
Passing the test would not mean freedom.
It would only mean surviving long enough to face the next one.