"Reason is, and ought only to be the slave of the passions."
***
The next evening arrived like a dentist appointment you'd been dreading for weeks.
I stood in front of my wardrobe, fingers brushing across fabric options while I picked out tonight's costume. Method acting required attention to detail. Every piece mattered.
Not the silk tunics with their subtle embroidery. Those might suggest I had taste. Instead, I grabbed a grey doublet that hung loose on my frame. Cheap fabric that wrinkled if you looked at it wrong. The kind of outfit that screamed "I've given up" without saying a word.
I picked trousers with a loose thread dangling from the hem. A detail that said "can't be bothered to present himself properly." I ran my fingers through my hair in the wrong direction until it achieved that perfect "stopped trying" look.
Welcome to the Kaelen Leone School of Self-Humiliation. Tonight's lesson: Advanced Groveling.
The walk to the dining hall felt longer than usual. Portraits of distinguished Leone ancestors lined the corridors, their painted eyes judging my every step. I could almost hear them whispering.
Look at this one. What a disappointment.
Yeah, yeah. Get in line, great-great-grandpa.
The dining hall atmosphere hit me like a wall when I entered. Lord Aldric sat at the head of the long table like a king on his throne. Silver hair caught the candlelight. His weathered face could have been carved from stone by a sculptor who really hated smiling. Deep lines around his mouth suggested decades of frowning. His shoulders stayed rigid even at dinner. This was a man who had never slouched in his entire life.
Lady Vivienne occupied her usual seat to his right. Beautiful. Cold. Ornamental. Her hair was styled in whatever was fashionable in the capital this season. Her emerald dress had a high collar and fitted bodice. She wore rubies at her throat that cost more than most families earned in a lifetime. Red as blood against pale skin.
She barely registered my presence as I shuffled into the room. To her, I was furniture that occasionally made noise.
Lucius lounged across from my seat. The golden child. The favorite. The one who actually mattered.
The perfect family portrait. Patriarch playing judge. Trophy wife playing audience. Golden child playing executioner. And me playing... what exactly? Court jester? Sacrificial goat? The "before" picture in a motivational poster?
I made my footsteps hesitant. Let my shoes scuff against the imported carpet. Every movement had to sell the image. Uncertain. Intimidated. Already defeated before the conversation started.
"Father," I began. My voice came out pitched slightly higher than natural, with just enough tremor to suggest genuine nervousness. I fidgeted with my sleeve, tugging at a loose thread. The original Kaelen had done this when anxious. I'd turned it into an art form.
"Might I have a word? About the academy? If you have a moment, of course. I don't want to interrupt anything important."
Lord Aldric's grey eyes fixed on me like a scientist pinning an insect to a board. He set down his wine glass with deliberate care. Crystal clinked against mahogany. His jaw tightened.
"Speak."
Not "what is it, son?" with even a hint of warmth. Not "of course" with any indication that my concerns mattered.
Just speak. Like I was a servant requesting leave instead of his own flesh and blood.
I wrung my hands. Fingers twisted together in a gesture I'd perfected over weeks of mirror practice.
"The invitation came yesterday. The Royal Awakening Ceremony is in two days, and I..." I let my voice trail off. Swallowed hard. Let my gaze drop to the tablecloth pattern. Golden lions. Silver swords. I counted them like they might give me courage.
"And?" Lady Vivienne's fan snapped open with a sound like a whip. I flinched. Not entirely theatrical. The woman had impeccable timing.
"Do speak up, Kaelen. We haven't all evening. Some of us have actual obligations. The Marchioness is expecting me within the hour."
Perfect. The more impatient they got, the more pathetic I could appear by contrast.
"I'm frightened," I admitted.
The words tasted like ash. Like swallowing broken glass. Making myself say them, making myself embody this weakness, required everything I had.
"The academy is so large, and there will be so many people, and I don't think I can manage. Not alone. What if I get lost? What if I forget something important? What if—"
Lucius leaned forward. His chair creaked. A predatory smile spread across his handsome features like oil on water. The candlelight cast shadows that made his expression almost demonic.
"Frightened? Of what, exactly? Books with too many words? Lessons that require staying awake? Other students who might look at you sideways?" His smile widened. "Or perhaps you're afraid they'll discover what we already know. What everyone in this house has known for years. That you're utterly, completely worthless. The weakest Leone to ever bear the name."
I let the words hit me. Let them show on my face. A flinch here. A tightening around the eyes there. The original Kaelen would have crumbled under this assault. I just had to let some of that inherited shame bleed through.
"Everything," I whispered. My voice was barely audible.
The shame wasn't entirely fake. Part of me, the Alex part, recoiled at this display. My fingers curled into my trousers under the table. Nails dug into my palms hard enough to leave marks.
"I can't even remember to eat meals without being reminded by servants. How am I supposed to navigate academy politics? What if I embarrass our family name further? What if I fail again, in front of everyone who matters?"
"You've managed that quite well without leaving the estate," Lucius observed. He reached for his wine, taking a slow sip before continuing. Making me wait for the killing blow.
"Remember the Thornfield incident? When you tripped over your own feet and knocked over Lady Thornfield's prize roses? Or your failure at the entrance examinations when you blanked on basic questions? Or that time you fainted during swordplay training before you'd even picked up the practice blade?" He swirled his wine. "The list of your embarrassments is extensive, brother. I could recite it, but we'd be here until dawn."
Lady Vivienne's fan fluttered with increased agitation. Her lips pursed like she'd tasted something sour.
"Really, Kaelen. This dramatic display is beneath even your usual standards. Academy admission is merely a formality for noble sons. Even ones as... challenged... as yourself. They cannot refuse a Leone, no matter how disappointing the specimen. What you're requesting is absurd."