Lysander. My family name is Thorne, and my given name Lysander, yet everyone in these gilded halls knows me as Thorne Lysander. It flows more smoothly, they say, a proper courtly address. Lord Kaelen, Prince Regent’s favored son, first coined it when our studies converged in the Imperial Academy’s earliest years. Since then, ‘Thorne Lysander’ has been my shadow, my identity. A handful still whisper ‘Lysander,’ but those are tales for another twilight. Lord Kaelen, a student in my class for the first time then, was a stark counterpoint to my own quiet composition. From his towering stature to his sun-kissed skin, his very presence radiated an opposing force. Even in scholarship, we stood at distant poles; he idled near the bottom of every academic roster. Does this suggest I scorned him upon sight? My nature, honed by courtly custom, teaches hierarchy is absolute. So, yes, such disdain would be customary. Yet, I found myself strangely unable to dismiss Lord Kaelen. Upon our first meeting, his vibrant, challenging eyes had fixed upon me with an undeniable, arresting power. Lord Kaelen possessed an singular essence. I could not precisely name it, yet his faint, almost formless aura captivated me. Like a moth drawn to a moonbeam, I found myself unwittingly initiating discourse. I often sought parallels between Lord Kaelen and myself. Mere surface concordances: our shared position within the court’s inner circle, our noble lineages – such superficialities. Consider our academy, nestled between the opulent Spire District and the more… utilitarian Merchant Quarter. Young scions from both strata mingled in our halls. Fortunately, my family’s estate lay within the very heart of the Spire, its oldest, most hallowed quadrant. An only child to doting, albeit distant, parents, I inherited every conceivable privilege. More profoundly, my family’s influence at court was a golden scepter placed in my infant hand. Small wonder I learned early the subtle arts of cunning. Thus, our academy was a curious crucible of privilege and ambition. Lord Kaelen, too, hailed from the Spire, from a House whose antiquity rivaled my own. Once I verified this, my excitement was poorly contained. With such justification, I approached him without hesitation. We became, in the peculiar lexicon of court, companions. While I excelled in the meticulous studies of courtly lore and decree, Lord Kaelen shone in the arena of influence. He swiftly gathered the most formidable young nobles, and within a mere lunar cycle, he stood atop the Academy’s informal hierarchy. So it was that Lord Kaelen became the most celebrated young lord of the Spire District. --- An ornate cedar door, tightly shut before me, remained closed for a protracted period. Only when my gut knotted in an ache of anticipation did it finally yield. Through the narrow gap, I glimpsed Lord Kaelen’s flushed countenance. His crimson-tipped fingers released the handle, and the door swung inward again, revealing him. Before it could settle back into its frame, I slipped inside, a desperate, almost unthinking movement. Within the salon, Lord Kaelen already reclined upon a velvet divan. He wore naught but a silken tunic, its laces undone, and had an unlit, fragrant tobacco stick caught between his teeth, which he gnawed upon abstractedly. “Damn it all. My Sire hounds me again. Should he send a missive to my amulet, tell him we were poring over ancient texts together.” He flicked open and shut a silver clasp-lighter as he spoke. He did not ignite the tobacco, yet his face held the languid exhaustion of one who had just concluded a vigorous assignation. My stomach felt raw, tight, and I pressed a hand to it as I approached. Snatching the abused tobacco stick from his mouth, I uttered an irritated, low retort. “Why should I?” “Because we are companions.” Ah. Companions. The way he drew out that word always struck me as profoundly melancholic. It felt as if my very chest tore. Yet, I maintained an expression of shameless calm. “Know only I shall repay this debt to you, in some manner, at some opportune moment.” “My thanks.” The air within the room was thick with the cloying perfume of moonpetal and the subtle, clean scent peculiar to certain court ladies. In truth, my discernment of such delicate fragrances had sharpened solely due to Lord Kaelen’s escapades. I had gleaned from his elder cousins that he had begun his nocturnal liaisons even before entering the Academy. Whispers claimed he’d lost his virtue within the very scriptorium archives, with a Lady-in-waiting. Such rumors spoke volumes. Even then, he supposedly possessed the bearing of a man in his third decade. Lord Kaelen’s mature visage was hardly typical of a youth. Most who encountered him mistook him for a seasoned nobleman. His bold, chiseled features lent him a brooding, sophisticated aura. Once within the Academy, he openly frequented clandestine salons whenever boredom gripped him. He commanded ample coin, and through means unknown, procured travel permits bearing an adult’s birth-year. He flashed them with casual confidence, enticed fetching young women, and made one-night dalliances his favored pastime. His striking appearance was a potent veil for his hedonistic pursuits. His eyes, nose, and mouth, considered individually, were not extraordinary. Yet, combined, they formed an inexplicably captivating face. His bearing was so refined no one believed him a mere youth; most assumed him to be at least five-and-twenty. I surveyed the room, as if searching for something, though my quest was futile. The heavy atmosphere, lingering in the wake of his indiscretion, unsettled my gut. “Where is Lord Valerius?” “He departed.” “…” “That craven wretch is utterly mad, no matter how I observe him. A true mockery of decorum.” Lord Kaelen rested his chin upon his hand and chuckled, a dry, mirthless sound. I frowned. Lord Valerius ranked as the second person I found most odious. He had only drawn close to Lord Kaelen in our second year within the Academy. As much as I loathed admitting it, they spent such a measure of time together it was fitting to deem them companions. When Lord Kaelen commanded the Spire District’s renown, Lord Valerius held his own formidable reputation in the Sapphire District. Still, our paths rarely intersected. My only glimpses of him occurred within the grand mess hall, a shared space for students from both districts. Once, amidst the mess, a shoulder nudged mine. A whispered voice reached me: “That is Lord Valerius.” Curiosity pricking, I rose on my toes to catch a view. Among the sea of dark-robed students, a tall, sharp-featured boy stood out. I knew instantly it was he. “He carries a noxious air, does he not?” When I voiced this, one of Lord Kaelen’s loyal retainers replied, “Indeed, a touch. They claim he is utterly self-serving.” I smirked at the commentary but offered only a perfunctory nod. However much I detested acknowledging it, I understood the reasons for his rivalry with Lord Kaelen. This only intensified my aversion, yet for some arcane reason, I could not avert my gaze. Dazzling gloom – such was my initial impression of Lord Valerius. By chance, our eyes met. It was peculiar he noticed my scrutiny, considering the multitude of gazes upon him in the crowded hall. His long, narrowed eyes and thin pupils left a striking impression. Reflexively, I flinched, as if struck by a stone. ‘What impudence do you observe?’ He must have read my silent query, for he narrowed one eye at me. Frankly, I felt a flicker of intimidation, so I feigned indifference and turned away. Then, loud enough for the retainer beside me to hear, I remarked: “He resembles a serpent.” Thereafter, Lord Valerius and I often exchanged glances, yet we invariably ignored one another. Whenever our gazes crossed, he would lower his head to avoid my eyes, only to raise it again and lock stares. Nine times out of ten, he broke contact first, but I found myself following his lead on occasion. I ceased counting after the eighteenth such encounter. --- As if by some twist of cruel fate, Lord Kaelen and I found ourselves in the same advanced studies circle again for our second year. While a secret thrill stirred at this continued proximity, I then encountered a painfully familiar face. It was truly astonishing — and utterly infuriating. For the first time, I gained a proper, sustained view of the man behind the infamous reputation: Lord Valerius. It was Lord Valerius who first addressed me. “Thorne Lysander. Shall we break bread together?” Confound it. Just as every courtly observer had anticipated, the two became inseparable. Lord Kaelen was a man who reveled in his own brilliance, and Lord Valerius, subtly regarded as his peer, met Lord Kaelen’s exacting standards. He was commanding, successful among his peers, and held in high regard. Their bond was inevitable. In our discussions, the query often arose: if Lord Kaelen and Lord Valerius clashed, who would emerge victorious? From my perspective, they would never truly contend. While Lord Kaelen and I were outwardly dissimilar, Lord Kaelen and Lord Valerius were remarkably akin. Yet, one stark divergence marked them. Lord Valerius possessed a strange, almost puritanical streak. Despite his ears being adorned with countless, almost ragged, piercings – a definite breach of formal court etiquette – he sometimes acted with an archaic, stiff propriety. For instance, when Lord Kaelen found himself consumed by desire, he would simply select a lady he fancied and spend the night in her chambers. When questioned about his dawn escapades, he proudly recounted his steamy morning adventures. In contrast, Lord Valerius merely scoffed at crude jests about longing to touch a woman’s décolletage. Sometimes, he’d mock them outright by seizing the chest of a portly young lord beside him, squeezing hard enough to elicit a shriek. “This corpulent pig possesses a larger bosom than most ladies. Simply fondle him instead. And truly, you look appalling. Seek proper corsetry, would you? Cease parading those grotesque mounds — it offends the eye.” Even his vulgar remarks were steeped in biting sarcasm. Yet, given the occasion, Lord Valerius would utter something baffling, like, “My purity is reserved solely for the Grand Architect of my future.” That was the undeniable difference. Lord Kaelen once offered to procure him forged courtly passes for restricted districts — an offer he had never extended to me — but Lord Valerius dismissed it as a useless contrivance and refused. Lord Kaelen’s close companions found Lord Valerius’s eccentricities amusing, but I did not. The reason was simple: he was too near Lord Kaelen. And they traversed the court like dearest confidantes. That alone fueled my animosity. It was a simmering jealousy, potent and bitter. Still, I managed to feign amiability with Lord Valerius. One of my enduring strengths lay in concealing my true sentiments, regardless of the circumstance. Besides, he remained close to Lord Kaelen. Indeed, every facet of my courtly existence revolved around Lord Kaelen. To be frank, there were more days when I felt profound frustration with myself for this persistent fixation than there were days I solely pondered Lord Kaelen. Often, I considered myself a complete fool. Yet, even so, I remained unchanged. While Lord Kaelen tossed a few perfunctory words my way before retreating to his bathing chamber to cleanse himself, I sat lost in thought. A few minutes later, his comm-amulet began to chime softly. Fresh from his ablutions, Lord Kaelen retrieved it from the divan and tossed it to me. I caught the warm metal. From the other end, I recognized his Sire’s resonant voice. Clearing my throat, I answered. Why did I even strive for such composure? “Yes, this is Thorne Lysander speaking.” “Thorne Lysander? Are you with Kaelen at this very moment?” “Indeed, Sire, I am.” “Ah, I see. My worries were misplaced, then. I feared Kaelen might be out indulging in some folly again. You possess such a pleasant voice, Thorne Lysander.” “My gratitude, Sire.” “No, truly. How fares your well-being?” “I fare well, thank you, Sire. And your esteemed self?” “Likewise. You speak with such elegance. If only Kaelen possessed such decorum. That boy lacks proper manners. So, you were poring over your texts together?” “Yes, Sire. Kaelen must have neglected to send word. He has been quite immersed in preparations for the quarterly appraisals.” “So, you have been engaged in study this entire period?” “Yes, Sire. He has remained in my presence without interruption.” “Well, that is a great relief. If he is with you, I can rest assured.” “It is naught, truly.” “No, it is significant. If he is with you, he cannot embroil himself in mischief.” “Truly, it is nothing. I shall ensure he arrives at his lessons safely tomorrow morn.” “Good. Watch over him. Maintain your friendship, and avoid any discord.” “Yes, of course, Sire. Farewell.” Deception flowed effortlessly from my lips. After ending the communication, I tossed the amulet back to Lord Kaelen, who murmured a brief “My thanks” while fastening the laces of his tunic. Without another utterance, I turned to depart. Lord Kaelen made no effort to detain me. “Until a later hour, Thorne Lysander.” That was his only parting phrase. It was to be expected. This was the sum total of our bond. The vast chasm between us stood painfully evident. Perhaps that is why I quickened my stride, eager to escape the suffocating air of Kaelen’s salon, the court’s heavy judgment, the weight of my own quiet, aching obsession.

A Serpent's Embrace, A Scholar's Shroud