Alarion was worried about the wrong Elzmir.

  One moment, Dar was standing next to his wife, glowering up at Alarion from the small dock. The next, the Governor was in front of him, fist raised.

  Instinct kicked in and Alarion raised his hands to ward off the blow, but it didn’t matter. The right cross weaved effortlessly through an opening in his guard and struck him in the jaw with enough force to send him rolling back across the sandy beach, his HP almost halfway depleted. His follow-up blow, a kick judging by the angle of impact, struck Alarion as he lay face down in the sand. The second attack sent him sprawling once again, but to his credit, this time Alarion came up in a crouch, fists raised.

  “You idiot child.” Dar said as he advanced.

  Behind Dar, Alarion could make out the blurry shape of Elena jogging up the beach. She was shouting something, but the ringing in his ears made it difficult to understand as Dar laid into him again.

  The man could have killed Alarion with his first hit, of that the boy was certain. However angry he was, the Governor was pulling his punches as he struck Alarion again and again, each strike chipping away at his HP with the measured proficiency of a man who knew how to keep his victims alive. The few times Alarion dared to make a counterattack, Dar punished him with especially heavy blows, swatting away Alarion’s feeble offense as one might the fists of a toddler.

  The strikes were relentless, focused not on efficiency or damage, but for pain. Whether Dar wanted him alive or dead, Alarion couldn’t tell, but either way, he wanted it to hurt.

  “Solar-” The incantation was strangled to nothing as Dar grabbed Alarion’s throat and lifted him from the ground. When he tried to lash out with a foot, Dar struck him with the back of his hand. There was a crack of thunder and a flash of light as the boy seized, then went limp.

  “No. None of that.” The man snarled as he drew back a fist for another strike. “I punch. You bleed. This is the only way someone like you will ever learn. They coddled you, gave you opportunity and you-”

  The creek of metal fatigue filled the air as Alarion regained consciousness to find ZEKE standing between him and Dar, the Governor’s balled fist barely restrained in a brass palm.

  “Enough.”

  Dar continued to glare at Alarion for a handful of breaths before his ire and his gaze turned toward the Steelborn. “Explain your interruption, Machine. Do it quickly.”

  ZEKE’s hand slowly lost ground against the Governor’s grinding fist as the two glared at one another.

  “He is a Witness.” ZEKE replied.

  Dar’s eyes bulged, and his jaw tightened. “How many curses will this child throw upon my doorstep?”

  “As many stars as there are in the sky, I have no doubt. But we cannot overlook such a treasure.” ZEKE loosened his hand as the muscles in Dar’s arm relaxed. “You’ll learn nothing if you beat him half to death before the Judicator arrives. And they won’t be able to force a Geas if he is unconscious when they take him.”

  The older man took a deep breath through his nose. He glanced back at Alarion, violence stirring behind his eyes, then threw him to the sand with a grunt of frustration. “Girl! Feed him his potions and get him mobile. We have little time.”

  The world spun beneath Alarion as he gasped for each ragged breath. Something had collapsed in his throat, and it took everything he had to draw in air as Sierra rushed to his side.

  “Trying to fight back was a poor decision.” Sierra told him bluntly as she knelt next to him, bottle in hand. Alarion was in no condition to down the potion himself, but Sierra was surprisingly gentle as she propped his head up on her knees, poured the potion into his mouth, and massaged his throat to help him swallow. “The Governor is rank IV. You are lucky he did not kill you.”

  Alarion did not feel lucky.

  An hour and two potions later, he sat stone still in the high-backed chair in Dar’s claustrophobic office. There were only three of them, Dar, Elena and himself, but the space felt too small with the weight of his transgression and Dar’s violence hanging between them. Elena sat to his left, her eyes on her husband. She hadn’t looked at Alarion since they’d made for the Manor Isle, let alone spoken to him. She barely even moved.

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  Dar, meanwhile, was the pinnacle of motion. He moved methodically around the room, his fingers tracing intricate patterns along the stonework as he reinforced his wards. Golden light shimmered briefly along the walls, ceiling, and floor with each completed spell, but even with such visible signs of success, Dar repeated the process three times over before he was finally satisfied.

  “The machine tells me you are a Witness. How did this occur?” Dar asked.

  “The final challenge,” Alarion answered without preamble. This was no time for defiance. “Lal Viren spoke to me once I completed it. I do not really understand what she-”

  “I do not care for your understanding. Do you remember what she said?”

  Alarion nodded. He’d never forget it.

  Thrice Betrayed.

  Blue and Violet and Empty.

  Thrice Fallen.

  Lioric and Seric and Feln.

  Thrice Shackled.

  Ordered and Forgotten and Final.

  Thrice Asked.

  Stone and Sky and Home.

  Thrice Invaded.

  Friend and Stranger and Family.

  Thrice Ended.

  Heart and Soul and Mind and God.

  “She said other things; she called me a bunch of names, or titles, but-”

  Dar waved away the words. “Preamble. If it is True Prophecy, then it is etched into your heart.”

  “Lioric…” Elena said, her voice shaking.

  “I know.” Dar answered, followed by a string of vulgarity the likes of which Alarion had never heard. “The rest of it is gibberish to my ears. But that alone…”

  “I do not understand.” Alarion said, the words earning him a sharp glare from Dar.

  “You will speak of this to no one. Do you understand? Tomorrow, the Judicator will make sure of this.”

  “I-”

  “Lioric is a family name,” Elena interrupted Alarion’s question. When her husband turned his glare in her direction, she sighed, “He will behave if he knows.”

  “He will behave or-”

  “Dar, enough.” She scolded and reached to touch Alarion’s shoulder. When he flinched away, her already gloomy expression grew darker still. “Lioric is a family name, the same as Elzmir, or Feln.”

  “Or Seric,” Alarion guessed.

  “Or Seric.” She agreed. “It also happens to be the family name of Vaal Lioric. One of the Imperators.”

  “One?” Alarion tilted his head slightly. “I thought the Imperator was the king?”

  Dar snorted. “A Vitrian king. I thought your tutors were better than this, wife.”

  “They are, when given time,” Elena scowled at the rebuke. “No, the Imperator is not a king. Vitrians have never had a king. The twin Imperators are the executives, elected to forty-five-year terms. One senior, the other junior. They hold tremendous power but serve at the will and pleasure of the Seventy-Seven.”

  Alarion considered her words, rolling through the implications in his mind. The slightest hint of a smile curve Elena’s lips the moment Alarion’s eyes widened in understanding.

  “You know who the next two Imperators will be.”

  “Which families they will be from, yes. But with that it should be trivial to guess the individual. Such information is enough to play kingmaker, to extract favors and to position the house accordingly. We know exactly who to invest in and who to ignore. It also tells us that none of the three are likely to make it to term.”

  “How?” Alarion asked.

  “Lioric is the junior Imperator. If anyone were to fall before him, it should be Imperator Savase. The same logic applies to both replacements.” Elena explained.

  “Three new Imperators in less than a decade?” Dar frowned as he paced behind his desk. “That upheaval can mean nothing good.”

  “For the Empire… probably not. For the house of Hunger? Uncertainty is opportunity.” Elena replied. “It seems he has given us quite the parting gift.”

  “You credit him for dumb luck.” Dar scoffed.

  “Perhaps. But his stubbornness and disobedience enabled that luck.”

  “Mothers save me from any more of his luck. Boy. Stand.”

  Alarion pushed back his seat and moved a few steps away from the desk as Dar rounded it to stand before him. The man straightened and adopted a more formal tone as he spoke.

  “During your absence, the judiciary reached an alarmingly brisk decision on the legality of your induction. One that I am sure had nothing to do with public outcry at my actions. I will spare you the details but suffice to say they rejected my wife’s novel legal theory and remanded you for induction.”

  There was no more anger in those blue eyes as they glared down. Only indifference.

  “Given your training, I see no reason to delay with further appeals. As such, you are hereby remanded under the authority of Imperator Savase and the Selective Training and Service Act of 276. A Judicator was dispatched to retrieve you for service shortly after the judiciary published their decision, and he has been waiting for word of your return, which I have provided. He will be here by noon. Pack your things, sleep, and make ready for service.”

  Alarion said nothing. He’d known it was coming, but some part of him had thought there would be more time. He’d expected days of recovery and time to train his new class. Alarion had even looked forward to a rematch with ZEKE, to measure his growth, despite the frustrating beating he was sure to endure.

  Another part of him was glad to be rid of the island and of the Governor.

  Of the expectations.

  “What of my class?” Alarion asked.

  “Ah, so now you value what we think, hmm?” Dar asked dismissively. “Do what you will. I can not force you, legally or otherwise. If you survive induction long enough to be adopted into the house, either will have sufficed as a foundation. If you do not, then why should I care about a dead child’s class choice?”

  Alarion gritted his teeth, about to say something more when Elena touched his arm. “Come, Alarion. I will walk you to your room.”

  “I know the way,” Alarion replied.

  and bought an iphone in my spouse's name) and helping the spouse apply for her university.

  Before I forget! I'm doing another round of Ask an Ordinate between the epilogue and the start of book 2. If you have questions, please tag them with "Ask an Ordinate" in the comments so that I can find them when I'm ctrl-f spamming.