Chapter 202: Chapter 202: The Spectator

Zaeryn followed her gaze, squinting against the early morning light. The window was dark, the curtains drawn tight. There was no movement, no silhouette. Just glass reflecting the dawn sky.

"I don’t see anything," he said, looking back at her. "Are you messing with me?"

Mireille glanced up at the window herself, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Well, she must have stopped watching now. But she was there. Standing right behind the glass." She paused, a flicker of genuine confusion crossing her features. "Strange, isn’t it? She’s supposed to hate you, yet she stood there watching you train for the last hour without looking away once."

Zaeryn felt a chill that had nothing to do with the morning air. "She?" he asked, the pieces starting to click together in his mind. "Who?"

Before Mireille could answer, a sharp chime sounded from her wrist. She glanced down at her comms device, her expression instantly shifting back to professional indifference.

"High Commander Lysara," she noted, tapping the screen. She turned away, already moving toward the house for privacy. "I have to take this. I suggest you get yourself ready for college. Let me know when you’re ready to leave for the academy."

She walked away, leaving Zaeryn standing amidst the wreckage of the lounge chairs.

He looked back up at the empty window on the second floor. Who was she talking about? Ravena’s room was on the other side of the house. Aeris slept like the dead until noon if she could help it. And Ysmeine’s room was not on this side of the house. So who was watching him discreetly?

He could only think of one person.

Zaeryn stared at the dark glass, a frown tugging at his lips. He shrugged, turning back to the house. Whatever her reason, it probably didn’t mean anything.

Zaeryn stepped back inside the house, the cool, climate-controlled air drying the light sheen of sweat on his skin. He headed straight for the kitchen, the scent of breakfast pulling him in, but before he reached the archway, Arya burst out, moving with a speed that suggested she was late for something important.

"Morning, Zaeryn!" she said, flashing him a quick, bright smile without breaking her stride.

"Morning," he replied, turning to watch her go.

She hurried toward the stairs where Mireille was already waiting, on the bottom step. The two exchanged a few hushed, rapid-fire words before ascending together, their boots clicking in unison against the steps.

Zaeryn raised an eyebrow, watching them disappear onto the second-floor landing. ’What’s the rush?’ he wondered. Then he remembered the chime on Mireille’s wrist just minutes ago. High Commander Lysara. Whatever that call was about, it clearly required both of them to be somewhere else, likely in their guest suite to take a secure briefing. He shrugged it off; Citadel business was their problem, not his.

He turned back and strolled into the kitchen.

The room was bathed in warm morning sunlight, filled with the comforting sounds of a morning routine. Marceline and Ravena were seated at the round table, heads bent together in low conversation. Ysmeine was over by the stove as she plated something savory.

Kayla was just lowering herself into a chair across from Ravena. She had just arrived a few seconds before him.

As Zaeryn walked in, Kayla’s head snapped up. For a split second, her eyes met his. It looked like an accident, a reflexive glance at movement, but there was a flash of something frantic in her gaze before she immediately looked away, fixing her eyes intently on the empty placemat in front of her.

Zaeryn ignored it, moving toward the table.

"And that’s why I think she’s an accomplice." Marceline was saying. She stopped mid-sentence as Zaeryn approached, her attention shifting entirely to him. A welcoming smile bloomed on her face, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "There he is."

"Morning, Macie," Zaeryn said, sliding into the empty chair right next to her.

Before he could even get comfortable, Ysmeine appeared behind him. She reached over his shoulder, placing a tall glass of freshly pressed juice on the table in front of him.

She didn’t move away. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck, draping herself over his back. She leaned her weight against him, her chin resting on his shoulder, the press of her body warm and soothing against his back.

"So," she murmured, her voice vibrating gently against his ear. "Care to tell me what happened to my patio furniture?"

The room went quiet. Ravena paused with her mug halfway to her mouth, a grin threatening to break out.

Zaeryn froze, glancing sideways at the juice. He tried to keep his face the picture of innocence. "The furniture? What do you mean? It looked fine when I walked past."

"Darling," Ysmeine drawled, squeezing him slightly in a hug that was half-affectionate, half-interrogation. "Those lounge chairs are made of reinforced weather-proof materials. They don’t just explode. And also,." Her voice dropped to a playful whisper. "Someone saw you do it."

Zaeryn blinked, genuinely surprised. He hadn’t even been inside for two minutes and the person who had been watching him from the window had already ratted him out. "Oh. Who was the rat?" He asked.

"That’s a secret," she teased. "So? Was it a fight to the death with a chaise lounge?"

"It was... a miscalculation," Zaeryn admitted, surrendering with a sigh. "I was training with Mireille. Aimed for her but she moved out of the way and I hit the upholstery. Total accident."

Ysmeine laughed, a low, rich sound. She pulled back just enough to press a firm, loving kiss to his cheek.

"Well, lucky for you, I’ve been meaning to redecorate," she said, straightening up. "You’re coming with me to the mall later to pick out replacements."

"Is that my punishment?" Zaeryn asked, grinning.

"Consider it that, yes," she replied, smiling at him before walking over to take her own seat at the table. "Now, you should drink your juice before you go to the academy."