Returning into the house feels strange. My brother is no longer here to watch over. I stand in the hallway for a moment, taking in the stillness of the air, before my parents return. Their movement disturbs the melancholy enough to break the spell.

"Prepare for sparring," my father grunts at me as he heads into the parlour where Kasper's friends are still waiting.

"Yes, sir," I say, heading upstairs to collect my practice sword.

The room Kasper and I share is half-emptied. All Kasper's personal effects have been taken with him. His books, trinkets he has collected through birthdays and midwinters, his clothes. All that remains is an unmade bed.

I plump up the pillows and carefully fold up the blankets before I turn to my own cot, getting to my knees and reaching beneath it for my sword. My own space in this room is smaller, but I have far fewer things than my brother. I mostly own books, and they are all kept in my father's study.

My hand closes around the practice blade hilt. It is heavy and simple. There need be no frills for a blunted sword after all. I carry it down the stairs and through the kitchen, stopping to pull on my cloak and pull my hood up against the drizzle outside.

I ignore my mother's herb garden, passing through it and hopping over the drystone wall until I reach the patch of grass next to the duck pond that my father and I use for battle training. I close my eyes and begin to warm up, moving through the basic movements of the various styles of swordplay my father has taught me.

The tension in my shoulders loosens as I move. It was a good idea to do this. It will stop me worrying so much about how my brother will fare on the road.

A spark of awareness runs through me and without thinking, I turn the broadside of the sword outwards and spin around. There is a clang as a rock that was aimed at my head is deflected onto the grass.

"Did you sneak back to get a peek at Lord Ifan, Urias?"

Urias sneers. He has a rock in his other hand. "So, your brother's gone now. That must be a relief for you. No more having to compete with the golden child anymore."

"That's a lot of projection on your part," I reply, stabbing the tip of the sword into the ground and leaning on it.

Urias rolls his eyes, throwing the rock in his hand up into the air and snatching it back again. I can feel the faint whisper of magic around him, guiding the rock so that it can't fail to land back in his palm. That's just like Urias, never attempting anything without a safety net.

"I'm surprised you didn't go with him. But then, I guess your father wouldn't want you out of his sight, telling all the family secrets," Urias continues, hand gripping the rock tightly before throwing it again.

I stay silent. Bullies like Urias don't need my participation to continue, I've found.

"Your mother was at our House the other day, you know," he says, eyes narrowing. "My father asked after you. You know what happened? Your mother looked confused. Like she couldn't understand why my father would even bother to ask after the other son."

I keep my eye on the rock, waiting for the inevitable moment when Urias gets bored with words and turns to sticks and stones instead.

"But your father... Well, he's the real monster isn't he?"

I grind my teeth. My mother and I are not close, and for the most part we keep out of each other's way. She's well-meaning, but she doesn't understand what my father and I do. She doesn't understand how much danger Kasper is in, or how important it is that I am there to defend him.

My father, however, is my rock. Without him and his strict training of me, I would not be half the soldier I am today.

"Yesterday my father heard him talking in the pub. Saying how much he hates that he had two sons and wishes he'd just stopped after Kasper," Urias has stopped throwing the rock now. It's cupped in his palm, ready to be thrown at any moment.

In the stillness and disquiet without Kasper, the first queasy sensation of ill-ease works down my throat to my stomach. Even if what Urias is saying is true, it changes nothing. I do not live for my father.

I live for Kasper.

"And your brother too!" Urias continues. "Doesn't even look beyond the end of his own stupid nose to see how his family are abusing his little brother-"

The unease crystallises into a guttural tugging sensation. I don't think before I lunge for Urias, discarding the sword and intending to use my fist to make him be quiet.

The rock hits me on the side of the head first though, magically propelled through the air at high speed. I shake off the dizziness and pain. It is in my mind, and any pain can be overcome and managed.

I lunge forward again, but this time Urias' magic surges up and bears me to the ground. He's far from a weak mage, his family going back generations and with all the magical secrets and heritage that comes with it.

I can feel it like hands around my throat. I can't breathe. The air rushes from my lungs in one painful, steady stream.

My anger leaves me, panic taking its place. If I die, who will protect Kasper? Was it worth it to have taken on Urias here? I should have kept my cool. He can say what he wants, but it will change nothing.

I go limp, knowing that there is no way to fight against this and that I can only surrender.

It is in that moment that the door to cottage opens and my father comes out.