CHAPTER 15: THE STRANGE VISITOR

House Valerius received them with curiosity. The walkway lit with torches along the avenue as they arrived late that night. The gardens manicured like chess boards. Servants bowed low in perfect rhythm, eyes sliding away from Kaelen as if refusing to commit treason by looking.

The steward intoned, "Welcome home, my lord."

Kaelen stopped beneath the arch of black stone. "Am I really welcomed, steward?"

The man’s gaze flickered to Valerius and back to the floor. "Your quarters are prepared."

"West wing," Valerius said. " Make sure to place Wards in every corridor. No one is allowed in without my seal."

Serenya peeled away, already giving orders to the sentries. Echo’s claws ticked on the marble as they crossed into shadowed halls. The mansion was decorated in tapestries that told the family’s favorite story, crowns of fire, enemies stamped flat, old victories lacquered until they gleamed.

Lyren was waiting at the stair’s first landing, red-gold hair catching torchlight like a banner. He did not bow. His smile was quiet and sharp.

"Brother! You returned" he said dryly.

Kaelen took in the stance, the heel braced, the hands loose, the chin lifted just a fraction. "Lyren."

"You look... improved," Lyren said. "Exile feeds you, apparently."

"Assassins tried to feed on me tonight," Kaelen replied. "You missed it."

"Oh, I heard." Lyren’s eyes flicked to Echo with a little curl of the lip. "Your beast looked hungry."

Echo showed an inch of tooth. Kaelen put a hand to his neck. "He knows the difference between family and a threat."

Lyren’s gaze quickly moved to Valerius, then back. "Do you?"

"Enough," Valerius said. "Kaelen, your mother is expecting us."

"She’s not my mother," Kaelen said.

Lyren’s smile didn’t move. "No. But she is Lady of this House. Try not to embarrass us."

They crossed to the grand hall. The doors opened on a dining table long enough to lay out a war. At its head sat Lady Valerius, spine unbent, gown the deep red of old wine. No jewels; she didn’t need them. Power made a better ornament.

"Lord," she said to Valerius. Her eyes slid to Kaelen, weighed, dismissed nothing. "You live."

"I seem to," Kaelen said.

"We will see that continues," she said. "Sit."

They did. Servants moved with soundless efficiency; silver covers lifted; steam rose and dispersed. Lady Valerius’s gaze never wandered. It surveyed. It found.

"I trust the Council managed to end the screaming," she said.

"They started it," Serenya murmured, taking a place along the wall. "We only set it to play."

Lady Valerius sipped once from a dark glass. "Two attacks in two days. A city that prides itself on spotless floors bleeding under its own table. Someone wants chaos to feel cheap."

"Chaos is never cheap," Tiara said. She had not taken a chair. She never did. "It gets paid for at the end."

Lady Valerius’s eyes turned to her, coolly curious. "And you are the woman who teaches my husband’s son to take apart the laws that keep our roofs from falling."

"I teach him to feel the threads that keep your roof from floating over a grave," Tiara replied.

Lyren set down his knife. "She speaks like a hedge-witch."

"She thinks like a survivor," Kaelen said.

Lady Valerius folded her hands, the gesture precise enough to be a blade. "We will discuss teaching and roofs later. Tonight, it’s best to breathe peace. You will keep to the west wing, Kaelen. You will not leave the estate without an escort. You will submit to warding..."

"No," Kaelen said.

A single eyebrow lifted. "No?"

"I’ll accept wards that keep knives out," he said. "Not leashes."

Lady Valerius’s gaze slid to Valerius. "Your son speaks like a man who thinks the House needs him more than he needs the House."

Valerius’s voice was flat. "He speaks like a man who lived because he learned to disobey."

A thin smile touched her mouth. "Then we are all in agreement. You’ll be placed with the best Wards, no leashes at least." She set her glass down. "And since we are being honest...your name is absent from our Ledger. It has consequences. Servants will not address you with my-lord. Contracts will not honor your signature. The city will not treat you as House Valerius."

Lyren watched Kaelen’s face closely. "It suits him," he said softly. "He never liked the weight of titles."

Kaelen met Lady Valerius’s gaze. "Who asked you to remind me?"

"No one," she said. "But I do like everyone at my table to know where they are sitting."

Tiara’s eyes cut to Kaelen. He kept his voice even. "Then you also like knowing where others are standing either behind you or against you."

Lady Valerius’s smile didn’t sharpen. "It is my business to listen."

Serenya shifted. "Good. Listen to this: the assassin in the Council carried a sigil that wasn’t a sigil. A hollow coin, polished thin as breath. The guild marks in the Low Warrens are seeing more of them. Someone’s emptying coffers to keep killing in fashion."

"We need to find who’s buying," Valerius said.

"I’ll start where they wash the knives," Tiara answered. "And where the Sanctum washes its hands."

Lady Valerius inclined her head slightly. "You will share what you find."

"I’ll share what keeps him alive," Tiara said.

The first course ended with the clatter of covers returning to plates. Lady Valerius rose; the room rose with her.

"Rooms are prepared," she said. "Guards posted. If you intend to prowl, at least be efficient." She offered Lyren her arm. He took it with the snap of a soldier accepting a standard.

As they reached the doors, she looked back over her shoulder at Kaelen. "You may believe you are the storm that makes this House bend. Do remember: storms pass. Houses remain."

When they were gone, Serenya let out a low whistle. "She likes you."

Kaelen huffed a breath. "Don’t be deceived?"

"She didn’t try to sell you to a glassmaker," Serenya said. "By our standards, it’s practically fonding."

Tiara stepped into the quiet that followed. "We’re not sleeping," she told Kaelen. "You’ll train until you can hold your threads under a stampede."

"Here?" he said.

"Here," she answered. "If they want you penned, make the pen your field."

They used the training court behind the west wing. The training Hall was opened that night. The walls are made of cypress. The ground torches guttered in the wind. Echo sat at the edge, ears twitching with each shifting ward.

Tiara stood opposite Kaelen, bare feet planted, breath steady. "Again," she said. "Take the air."

He raised his hands, palms open. His power threads rose to his sight: the faint nets of life along the hedges, the small, bright flares of insects, the vast slow tide of the house’s sleeping bones. He drew gently until warmth gathered in his fingers.

"Don’t drink," Tiara said. "Sip."

He adjusted; the current steadied. "They watched every breath in that chamber," he said. "They want me inside to count them."

"They want you inside to control the counting," she said. "Again."

He anchored. He wove. He released.

She moved in without warning. A flick of her wrist sent a slice of pressure at his chest as air honed thin. He met it, not by building a shield, but by pulling the song out of it. It fell flat against his skin, like cloth dropped from a height.

"Better," she said. "Now threads to movement. Feel the guard on the roof, second pylon."

He closed his eyes. The threads widened. A pulse above the cypress, a heart, steady, watching. He nodded.

"Good," Tiara said. "Remember it. Now..."

Footsteps scuffed behind them. Serenya leaned on the outer railing, a silhouette against torchlight. "I hate to interrupt your training, but you have a visitor."

"At this hour?" Tiara asked.

"At this hour," Serenya said. "Water at the door."

Kaelen frowned. "Who?"

"She won’t give House or crest," Serenya said. "But the floor is still wet where she walked."

Tiara’s eyes narrowed. "Let her in. If she draws on us, drown her with her own tide."

A woman in travel blue entered with a guard at her shoulder. She lowered her hood. Black hair braided back. Her eyes were so calm, clear gray that belonged to deep water and cool judgment. She took in the court, the torches, the cypress, the wolf, and Kaelen, in a glance that missed nothing.

"I asked to see Kaelen Valerius," she said. "Not because I answer to this House, but because he nearly died in the Council I was asked to observe."

"And you are?" Tiara asked.

"Joanna," she said. She didn’t offer more.

Serenya’s mouth twitched. "Water, as advertised."

Joanna stepped closer, hands visible, no rings, no sigils. "I don’t come with a banner. Consider me... an observer for a family that prefers to remain unnamed until it knows where the knives are."

"We know where some of them are," Kaelen said. "Usually near me."

"I noticed," Joanna said. "I also noticed the way the air around you changed before the second blade was thrown. The wards rippled. And then something... smoothed them. Like a hand pressing down on a troubled pool." Her gaze flicked to Tiara, then back. "You. Or the house?"

Tiara didn’t answer.