"Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth."
***
I ducked my head in grateful submission. Let my hair fall forward to hide the cold calculation sharpening in my eyes.
"I promise I'll try my absolute best not to disappoint you."
"See that you try considerably harder than you have thus far." The discussion was clearly over in his mind. "You are dismissed."
I rose with deliberately clumsy movements. Knocked my knee against the table leg hard enough to produce an audible thump. Winced dramatically. Shuffled toward the door like a beaten dog, shoulders hunched and head bowed.
Behind me, Lucius's voice rang out.
"Magnificent performance, little brother. Truly inspired work. You almost had me convinced you were genuinely pathetic instead of merely pretending."
I paused at the doorway. My hand rested on the cool brass handle.
Slowly, I turned back to look at him over my shoulder. For just a moment, a single heartbeat, I let my mask slip. Not enough for Father or Lady Vivienne to notice. But just enough for Lucius alone to catch a glimpse of something cold and dangerous behind my dull grey eyes.
"Who says I'm pretending?" I asked softly.
Then I was through the door and into the corridor beyond, leaving the sound of Lucius's uncertain laughter echoing behind me.
Perfect.
Lyra is secured. My reputation is in ruins, exactly where it should be. And Lucius is now watching a different game entirely, which means he's no longer watching the one I'm actually playing.
Sometimes the most effective weapon isn't a blade or a spell. It's uncertainty itself.
I straightened my posture slightly. Allowed myself a single moment of satisfaction before immediately resuming my defeated slouch as servant footsteps echoed from around the corner.
The price I paid was my dignity. The prize I claimed was my queen and first true ally.
Tomorrow, we both start playing the real game.
===
The corridors back to my chambers felt different now.
Same portraits. Same carpets. Same flickering torchlight casting long shadows on stone walls. But something had shifted. The air tasted like victory, even if it was victory bought with humiliation.
My mind was already composing the detailed debrief I'd share with Lyra when she arrived for her evening report. The meeting still burned in my chest. No amount of strategic thinking could completely numb the sting of my family's contempt.
But beneath the wounded pride, something harder and colder had taken root.
They think they're managing their disappointment of a son. Containing the damage before it spreads. They have no idea they just handed me the keys to their destruction.
The thought should have troubled me more than it did.
Three months ago, Alex Chen would have been horrified at the idea of plotting against his own family. Manipulating people who shared his blood.
But three months ago, Alex Chen had never faced his own scripted execution at the hands of a golden-haired protagonist drunk on righteousness. Never felt the casual cruelty of noble privilege turned against him like a weapon. Never watched an innocent servant girl come within hours of dying for crimes she didn't commit.
Perspective is a hell of a thing. So is survival instinct when your life has an expiration date.
I reached my chamber door and paused. Pressed my ear against the wood. Listened for movement or nearby footsteps. The muted sounds of the estate at evening filled the air. Distant voices from the kitchen. Soft tread of servants on carpet. Creak of old wood settling.
No one close enough to observe.
I slipped inside and began preparing for Lyra's arrival.
The Royal Academy awaited us. Full of dangers and opportunities in roughly equal measure. But now, at least, I wouldn't be facing that gauntlet alone.
The beggar has claimed his shadow throne.
Now to see what kingdoms can be conquered from the darkness.
===
Lyra arrived through the window twenty minutes later.
She landed without a sound, her feet barely disturbing the carpet. Three weeks of training had turned her into something else entirely. The girl who used to flinch at shadows now moved like one.
"Master." She knelt in her usual position. Head bowed. Hands clasped. But I could see the tension in her shoulders. The barely contained question in her posture.
She'd been waiting to hear how it went. Probably counting the minutes.
"It's done," I said. I leaned back in my chair and let myself smile. A real smile, not the nervous grimace I wore in public. "You're coming to the academy with me. Father signed off on the arrangement. Lady Vivienne complained about losing a competent servant, which is probably the nicest thing anyone in that family has ever said about you."
Lyra's composure cracked.
Her head snapped up. Red eyes wide. For a moment she looked young again. Vulnerable. The girl she might have been if the world had treated her better.
"Truly, Master?"
"Truly. You're my official personal attendant now. Keeper of my schedule. Manager of my incompetence. Professional hand-holder for the disappointing third son of House Leone."
I expected her to be pleased. Maybe even relieved.
I didn't expect her to cry.
The tears came silently, sliding down her cheeks without warning. She didn't sob. Didn't make a sound. Just knelt there as moisture tracked paths through the dust on her face.
Oh no.
I was not equipped to handle crying women. I'd barely been equipped to handle them in my previous life, and at least back then I could offer tissues and suggest ice cream. What was I supposed to do here? Pat her head? Tell her it would be okay? I'd been treating her like an asset, not a person. This felt dangerously like a Person Moment.
"Lyra?" I kept my voice careful. Neutral. "Are you... alright?"
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. A rough, practical gesture that somehow made the whole thing worse.
"I'm sorry, Master. I didn't mean to— I just—" She took a shaky breath. "I was afraid. When you told me about the academy. I was afraid you would leave and I would go back to being nothing. Just another servant. Just another body waiting to be discarded."
Her hands were shaking.
"But you're taking me with you. You could have asked for anyone. Someone prettier. Someone smarter. Someone who doesn't have nightmares about gallows and gutters. But you asked for me."
Guilt twisted in my stomach like a knife.
Because I hadn't asked for her out of kindness. I'd asked for her because she was useful. Because she was loyal. Because having her at the academy served my strategic interests.
I was using her. We both knew it on some level. But hearing her talk like this, like I'd given her some precious gift instead of a more elaborate chain...
"You've earned it," I heard myself say. The words came out before I could stop them. "Everything you've done these past three weeks. The intelligence network you've built. The skills you've developed. You're not nothing, Lyra. You're the most valuable piece on my board."
She looked up at me. Those red eyes were still wet, but something else had crept into them. Something that made me want to take a step back.
Devotion. Absolute and terrifying.
"I will prove worthy of your faith, Master. Whatever the academy demands. Whatever enemies appear. I will be your shadow and your shield. I will—"
"Okay." I held up a hand. "I appreciate the enthusiasm. Really. But we should probably focus on practical matters before we get too deep into the dramatic declarations."
She blinked. Wiped her eyes again. Something like embarrassment flickered across her face.
"Of course, Master. Forgive me."
"Get some sleep," I told her. "Tomorrow we pack. The day after, we face the ceremony. Whatever comes after that..."
"We face it together," she finished.
"Together." I nodded. "Now go. Before someone notices you're missing from your quarters."
She rose from her kneeling position. Moved to the window. Paused with one hand on the frame.
"Master?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you. For everything."
Before I could respond, she was gone. A shadow disappearing into shadows.
I sat alone in my chamber and stared at the dying candle flame.
My plans, so carefully constructed, suddenly seemed like a child's fortress of sand against a rising tide. I set out to create a spy, but I have unleashed something far more elemental. The greatest threat to my survival isn't some scripted villain.
It's her.
A cold laugh tried to escape my throat.
My god, I think I've fallen in love with my own monster.
But monsters won't save me from the Awakening Stone.
Only pain will do that.