He takes in the scene. Urias, hand outstretched and magic raging around him. Me, prone on the floor with my forehead bleeding, gasping for air and eyes bulging.

Urias drops the spell, going pale. He lowers his head, refusing to meet my father's eyes as Jerimoth walks down the garden path and calmly opens the gate.

"Stand up," he growls at me. "Get your sword."

I do so, gulping down air and trying to stop my knees from shaking. I dab at my injured forehead with the corner of my cloak.

"Leave us.”

"Y-yes sir!" Urias says and scurries away, clearly thinking himself lucky to have got away without so much as a word.

My father watches him go, waiting until he is out of earshot before he turns to me.

"Ready yourself."

There are no words of comfort between us. That is how it is. My father's love has always come in the form of action, sharpening me into the blade that he knows I must be. We don't have time to talk about Urias, only about the potential weakness that I have shown here.

It takes my father less than a minute to disarm me and send me sprawling to the floor with the flat side of his sword thwacking against my ribcage. I struggle to my feet, aching everywhere and lungs protesting. My ankle has twisted, sending shooting pains down into my foot and up my leg, but I focus on my breathing instead.

In. Out. In. Out.

I focus on my Purpose.

My father only does this to prove to me that I must become better. Kasper's departure has meant we are running out of time, and I am still not the warrior that I need to be.

I raise my practice sword again to show that I am ready. My father does not hold back.

We trade blow after blow, as I ignore the sharper and sharper pains from my ankle. Jerimoth is stronger than I am, and each time our swords clash, it sends vibrations down my arm. I can feel fatigue setting in as my arm starts to become numb with exhaustion.

"You are tiring. What if I were an assassin sent after Kasper? You would both be dead by now," my father taunts. He is barely out of breath.

I firm my resolve and change my tactics, moving from defence to offence with a quick change in stance. I release a flurry of attacks, quick and aimed at all my father's weakest spots. I won't be able to maintain the attack, but if I can just get one to land, it will end this practice duel.

I have to take risks that others wouldn't. I leave myself open for the chance to strike a blow. My aim isn't to die, of course, but if it is the difference between fulfilling my goals and staying alive, I will always put my goals first.

I see the opening just as my strength is about to give out. Jerimoth's right side is open. I surge forward, my blade pausing just above my father's throat so it does not cut him.

The blunt edge of my father's practice sword is against my own.

A draw.

"Good, Kit. You did not hesitate," my father says. Pride swells in my chest from the praise and grin at my father, who does not smile back. "But what if there had been more assassins?"

"Laying down my life could buy time for escape. If there was a second attacker waiting in the shadows, though, you would be right. My strategy would have been foolish. I will have to think further about what I would do in that situation," I concede.

"And what can you do to ensure that your own fall in battle is not the end of your brother's life?" Jerimoth prompts. I know what he is asking. The other part of my training, that isn't about swords and pain and endurance.

"Gather allies. Ensure that Kasper is always surrounded by protection," I reply. "Magical or non-magical. Dark mages as well as long as they swear fealty."

My father nods in approval.

"Allies will be important to you. Although our family has always stood by the Light mages, you would do well to draw your allies from as many places as you can. Dark mages who follow your brother could be invaluable. They will do things that Light mages, quite rightly, cannot bear," he says.

I bow, thanking my father for the lesson.

"Clean yourself up and then get the genealogies from the study. I want you to have learned eight generations of the ten most important families by te end of the week."

I bow again and wait for him to return inside.

I'm ravenously hungry, but food will have to wait. I brush off the mud from my cloak, check to see if my forehead is still bleeding, then head inside to study.