Dalton had wanted to stay in the winter room. It felt like he belonged there, beneath his shirt his sigil felt warm, although it might have been his imagination. He wanted to sit on one of the blue rocks and stare at the frozen waterfall with the strange woman carved into it. It felt familiar somehow. Maybe it should not have been surprising. He was technically a member of the Winter Court, or maybe temporarily was a better word. He was still an exile until his father died, and his current place in the Academy was more of a courtesy than anything else. Still, he enjoyed walking through the four rooms and seeing the reaction of the students. It looked like almost all of them were younger than him by a couple years and it showed in their enthusiasm. One of them, a young black woman with a friend in a wheelchair, had given him a lingering look that he could not interpret. She was probably wondering why he was older than everyone else. 

Ash was surprised when he called and told her he was finished. She met him in the silver car about twenty minutes later. 

“”Sorry, I didn’t realize you would be done so soon so I went to the mall.”

“No problem.” Dalton said. 

He did not say anything else for the rest of the drive, and Ash must have picked up on his mood because she kept from asking him any questions, even though he was sure she had many. Like him she was exiled with the rest of the Lochlan household. She had been on the verge of attending the Academy when the punishment was announced. It must have been heartbreaking for her, Dalton realized, to come so close and then miss out. Like every member of the Lochlan Household she had been taught how to use a sigil, the exile allowed for that, but she would never be permitted to learn about the Courts themselves. The terms of the exile were very clear. Roman and any other members of the household could not say anything about the Courts inner workings. Dalton wondered how it would be possible for the Courts to enforce that particular rule, but his father took it seriously and had always refused to give Dalton any details. 

“When you go to the Academy it must be clear to everyone that you know nothing or else you will be kicked out and the exile will be extended.”

The exile, always the exile. 

Dalton was not sure when the last time he had a conversation with his father where he did not mention the exile. His entire existence, and hence the existence of the household, seemed to revolve around it. Having never been an active member of the Winter Court Dalton could not understand the obsession. Maybe his father’s reasons would make more sense after Dalton had a better understanding of the Courts. 

There was also a potential opportunity while he was at the Academy. To this day Roman had not told him why the Lochlan Household had been exiled. From what he gathered his father had managed to enrage the Courts with his actions, so much that apparently there was some debate about dissolving the Lochlan Household altogether. As Dalton got older and came to understand the complexities of life a little more fully, he had asked his father if he deserved to get exiled. Dalton wondered if Roman had been forced out by some kind of faction in the Court that disliked him for some reason. 

“I understand why they did it.” Roman said, and that was all the explanation Dalton ever got. 

He wondered if Cassandra knew the reason, but she had not been forthcoming when he asked. Dalton should have known his sister would never take his side over their father’s. 

They drove past a soccer field and Dalton felt a stab of longing when he saw the players running and dodging around. He turned away and looked out the other window. He did not want to think about his past anymore. 

It did not seem to take very long to arrive back at the Lochlan Estate. Dalton stretched his leg and massaged his knee before he stepped out and climbed the steps out of the garage. He walked past his sister’s office on his way towards the elevator. 

“Dalton.” She spoke loud enough to be heard and no louder. 

He stopped and leaned on the doorframe. She was wearing the same clothes as this morning and a stack of paper waited on the desk in front of her beside a computer monitor. 

“How was it?” Cassandra said. 

“It was interesting, but we didn’t really do that much yet.”

“Did you see the four rooms?”

Dalton met her eyes. “Yeah, I did.”

“What did you think?”

“They were,” he searched for the right word, “strange. Except the winter room, that one felt familiar. 

Cassandra tapped on the desk for a couple seconds. “I’m glad you’re going to the Academy, soon we will be able to talk about many of the things we couldn’t before.”

It surprised Dalton to hear her say that. The two had not been close in many years, mostly because Cassandra was almost ten years older than him and had always been busy with their dad’s errands, at least that was how he saw it. It was like she had been given a choice between her brother and her father and had chosen the latter. Although he had old memories, ones locked behind the fog of youth, of Cassandra reading to him, playing soccer with him and buying him action figures for his birthday, all of which indicated that they had once been close. That had all changed after she was kidnapped. 

“I guess so.” He said.

Cassandra nodded her blond head and returned to her task, whatever it was. She had been near the end of her second year in the Academy when they were exiled, a privilege reserved for skilled sigil wielders and children of a scion, both of which applied to Cassandra. Dalton was not sure if he was jealous or not. Either way she was right that as Dalton grew in understanding of the Court their relationship would change. Dalton hoped it would be for the better, that when he crossed that threshold she would welcome the change and they could be friends again.