The Tymorean Trust Book 1 - Power Rising

by Margaret Gregory

  Chapter 7 - First Lessons

  Tymos woke and stretched, enjoying the sensation of lying in a soft bed. His enjoyment lasted only a moment because his attendant came into view as he pulled back the privacy curtain.

  “Prince Tymos, it is time for you to be dressed. His Excellency is expecting you directly after breakfast.”

  “What for?” Tymos asked suddenly aware that he had no idea of where he was or why he was there. “I thought I would be out in the garden again today.”

  The attendant was a young man who was only recently out of schooling. He tried, unsuccessfully, to hide a smile.

  “Since you have been given this apartment in your father’s palace, I conclude that you have now recovered sufficiently to begin lessons.”

  “Lessons in what?”

  “All the Royal Children are educated, Prince Tymos. However, since it is His Excellency the President who is expecting you – I believe it will be to organize your Physical Skills Program.”

  “O…K,” Tymos said thinking furiously. He recalled many disjointed images and snippets of conversation. He remembered the tall red haired man who was their foster father – His Majesty Tymoros. He remembered that they had made him and his sister citizens of this world and they had been presented to a crowd of people. That’s right - they had come from somewhere else – Earth, that was where. He remembered some children his age and being in a garden …

  “Prince Tymos I have your garments ready to change into,” Morov reminded his charge.

  “I think I have a lot to learn,” Tymos suggested, hoping his attendant would comment.

  “You do indeed, Prince Tymos. The other Royal Children your age have had a good six years of education already. Do you require help getting dressed?”

  “No,” was the instinctive answer and Tymos was not surprised that the garment he was given was purple and gold but he could not remember ever having put it on himself. “I think I can manage. I don’t mean to insult you but I can’t remember your name.”

  “I’m Morov, Prince Tymos. You have been under sedation until this morning so I am quite pleased that you are better. It is my duty to assist you in any way I can.”

  “Where is my sister, Morov?” Tymos asked climbing out of the bed and finding that he was wearing a pale blue one-piece garment.

  “She went to her own apartment, Prince Tymos.”

  “Why do I feel like I don’t know what I am doing?” Tymos finally asked.

  “It is because you were raised on some distant world. If they had allowed you to come sooner it would have been easier for you to adapt to being here. I do not know why they kept you there until you were this old but it is not my place to ask. I was told that His Excellency Professor Governor Xyron has suppressed your memories so that is why you feel bewildered. It is better that you have no alien notions to distract you from your learning.”

  “Can you please show me how to put this thing on?” Tymos felt embarrassed by having to ask how to dress himself because he felt he should know. Morov helped him in such a matter of fact way that Tymos felt less stupid.

  “You aren’t the first Royal Child to come here as an adolescent, I knew one – a child of two missionaries and she had a very hard time. She wanted to tell the teachers how to do things. However, you are the first I have heard about of such high rank. That is probably why His Excellency the President is taking a personal interest in you.”

  “I’d rather he didn’t,” Tymos muttered. “He scares me.”

  “He’s strict and fair,” Morov admitted. “He is somewhat overpowering, but that is because he is the bearer of the Sword of Judgment. Just do exactly as he tells you and you won’t get into trouble.”

  Tymos passed the advice to Kryslie as she joined him in a small room on the ground floor of the palace prior to their appointment with the President. She was dressed in the same type of one-piece outfit as he but hers was red with gold trim. Their attendants transmitted them from the High King’s palace to the President’s palace and now waited with them outside a door while Morov announced them. Yeven, the President’s attendant ushered them into the room and took Tymos and Kryslie to a small office off what looked like a gymnasium. Morov, and Kryslie’s attendant Delia, waited by the first door.

  Jono Reslic, seated behind a small desk sat back in his chair but did not rise as Tymos and Kryslie entered. Nor did he invite them to sit. The room was empty except for the table and Reslic’s seat. Yeven quietly withdrew.

  “I have prepared a training schedule for you,” he announced without preamble. “You will be expected to adhere to it faithfully. It is initially designed to help you build up muscle and muscle tone and to strengthen you. You will progress to a formal study of gymnastics, which will teach you balance and physical control as well as improve your coordination. I will personally be supervising this part of your education because you are both Heir Designates and totally untrained, a situation that we must rectify as soon as possible. As you progress, I will modify your schedule. We will begin right away.”

  He stood up then and led the way out to his private gymnasium.

  In the centre of the floor were padded mats. All the other equipment was pushed back near the walls.

  “Let’s see what you can do.”

  Jono Reslic called the attendants over, asked them to demonstrate some basic warm up exercises, and then told Tymos and Kryslie to try them. Some were easy; others such as standing on one leg and holding the other up were harder than expected. Reslic made no comment, aware that even though the two children had learnt to walk around in the higher gravity of Tymorea, they still had to adjust their internal balance. Time after time, they tried and always fell over. When they seemed on the verge of anger at their failure, he had the attendants provide a prop to hold them up.

  After an hour, of doing various exercises, he permitted them to rest for five minutes before he began to test them on some of his equipment. Tymos found that he was good at doing a range of movements on the wooden horse and at rope climbing while Kryslie did better at tumbling and the parallel bars. Neither did well at walking along the wooden balance beam.

  Reslic kept them busy all morning and praised their efforts.

  With an injunction to arrive there every morning after breakfast, he dismissed them.

  An exhausted Tymos and Kryslie needed the encouragement of their attendants to eat the lunch that the kitchen staff sent to their apartments. When all they wanted was to sleep until dinnertime, a servant summoned them for more lessons.

  Firstly, they were introduced to Madame Wynn, an elderly woman who was to teach them how to read and write the formal Tymorean script.

  Then, Madame Vera, a middle-aged woman with fading red hair, took them to a medium sized chamber. The room was empty of furniture, had soft floor mats and shelves on the walls bearing a variety of statues, vases, pictures and other odd objects. She began to explain the basics of personal meditation but did not comment when their meditative trance became a power nap.

  Late in the afternoon, they met Stenn, Denlic and Lexina who taught them a new game, one designed to increase their hand and eye coordination. It had been a very long day.

  Tymos and Kryslie knew the other children had lessons, but they only saw their three friends briefly each afternoon and only for long enough to learn a new exercise. For the rest of the day, from early breakfast to evening meal, they were busy learning essential skills.

  In addition to physical skills, there was the Tymorean language to learn to read and write, and a vocabulary to expand. They had to learn the Tymorean numerical notations and to learn the symbols for a multitude of places, actions, warnings and other concepts. Even the subtly different everyday routines, for although they had no memories of their past, their bodies were used to doing things a certain way – instinctively – and they needed to learn the Tymorean way.

  Through all the lessons, they were still becoming used to the higher gravity, still working to find their internal balance
and to build their strength.

  By the end of the evening meal each day, they were exhausted. They had no energy left to object to the enforced early bedtime.

  However, in the morning when they were fresher, when they had their session with Reslic, it was different.

  Their human instincts surfaced; the reactions that had started to become a pattern before they had been taken from school. Though they couldn’t remember that life, both Tymos and Kryslie began to resent the feeling of being forced to keep doing exercises at Reslic’s direction. When they tired and wanted to rest, he forced them to continue. His terse and cutting comments angered them, even though he only spoke the truth. His comparisons of their level of skill, when compared to the skills of much younger Tymorean children, made them flush with humiliation.

  Early on, they learnt that walking out of Reslic’s gymnasium wasn’t possible. They tried several times and failed. There was a door, but when they wanted to find it, they couldn’t. If servants left it open when they came in with refreshments, they still couldn’t go through it.

  Seeing Reslic simply watching their attempts without reacting, angered them. He waited for them to return in frustration, or if they didn’t, he merely walked over to them and set them the next exercise.

  After a time, both Tymos and Kryslie began to get the idea that Reslic’s calm reaction to their rebellion was because they were insignificant in power compared to him and all their attempts to fight were useless. They began to realise they were acting like caged birds, fluttering madly to get out and only succeeding in tiring themselves further.

  However, even though they were beginning to realise that he could easily swat them for their behaviour, they didn’t yet accept his right to order them around.

  At no time did either Tymos or Kryslie start to question their own reactions. Reslic’s calm comment on needing to master the quick temper characteristic of red heads was not accepted with the same calmness. It served to inflame their resentments further.

  In turn, their ability to perform the required exercises became less and less, usually ending up with a fit of temper from either Tymos or Kryslie – whoever was performing at the time.

  Reslic ignored the tantrums and the sulking, until Tymos went one-step further and shouted, “Well if you are so damn clever, you do it!”

  Kryslie, taking a few minutes break before her turn, saw the stern look on Reslic’s face tighten, and then watched him do exactly what he had asked of her brother. To her, and to Tymos, the exercise had seemed complicated and meaningless, yet the President performed the movements so smoothly that it looked like a baby exercise.

  Although still angry, the deceptive ease with which Reslic had performed it fuelled Tymos’s determination and belief that he could do it too. He still failed, only this time his determination was more stubborn than his anger. With only mild prompting, he kept at the exercise until he had achieved praise from Reslic.

  This time, Tymos could not refute the advice that anger was counter productive to success. He kept it in mind for the rest of the day.

  Kryslie tried to remember the advice too, for she could sense faint annoyance from Reslic despite his calm façade. She tried to master her own resentment, not wishing to make him angry but her resolution was soon tested.

  “Kryslie!” she heard her name spoken sharply, and realised that she must have dozed off while Tymos was climbing the ropes and swinging from one to the next.

  She caught herself before she toppled sideways from her position propped against the wall. She felt her face getting hot as Reslic stared at her.

  “Well?” he prompted.

  She had no idea what he had just asked her to do. Tymos approached and muttered, “He told you to climb the rope.”

  Still with his eyes on her, she moved to the nearest rope. When she glanced at Reslic for confirmation, his face remained impassive.

  Trying to find the strength, she began to climb. Half way up, her arms lost all strength, and she dropped to the padded mat.

  “You will not be allowed to leave until you make it to the top,” Reslic told her implacably.

  Realising that the lesson was almost over, enabled Kryslie to try again. This time she made it to the top, but hardly had the strength to stay there or do a controlled descent.

  “Move across to the far rope and climb down,” Reslic told her.

  When Kryslie didn’t move, he added, “You will miss your midday meal if you stay there.”

  Once again, she made an effort, and managed to swing across two of the five ropes, before her arms and legs stopped gripping the rope. She slid down, the rope burning her hands and inner thighs.

  “You have fallen into a pit of slavering, starving, canines. I suggest that you climb out quickly,” Reslic said in a perfectly serious tone.

  Kryslie swore under her breath, not realising she used English words in lieu of Tymorean curses.

  “This isn’t a play group,” Reslic now sounded impatient.

  “It isn’t a pit of dogs either,” Kryslie snapped back.

  “Perhaps there are no canines,” Reslic agreed, walking closer. “But I am here and I am waiting.”

  One more glance at Reslic and she was moving again, only she took up the fourth rope, and not the one she had dropped from. She took heart when Reslic didn’t comment. As she forced herself up, inch by inch, she glanced at her twin. He looked almost asleep against the balance beam. She thought to herself that he had better watch it too, Reslic had been at him enough already that day.

  Kryslie kept Reslic’s attention on herself, by inching up the rope, and when at the top transferring slowly to the next. Feeling sure he was waiting for her to fail, and would make harsh remarks if she did, she found the stubbornness to inch down the rope until she was less that her own height from the ground. They she deliberately dropped. As she had intended, the noise roused her brother. He jerked straight and came over.

  “I hope you carefully consider the day’s lesson,” Reslic told them both. “I do not set exercises that are beyond your capability. They should be easy, but not if you are angry. Anger and resentment waste energy you could be using for the exercise.”

  Neither acknowledged the advice, because both emotions were still simmering in their minds, and as soon as they were dismissed, they were glad to be taken back to their apartments.

  After a refreshing sonic shower and a high-energy lunch, they went to their afternoon meditation session. Only then did they realise that they were not as tired as they used to be, that their stamina was increasing. They approached the mental exercises in logic, calculating, and data recall quite refreshing. Madam Vera’s praise carried them through Madam Wynn’s language and writing class. They memorised fifty new words, with their meanings and learnt the written form and the correct pronunciation with only three repetitions.

  The afternoon’s session in the garden with their friends was more like a game. Stenn led them to where a pole was set up with a ring attached. Next to it was a similar structure that had a square board behind the ring.

  “My father had this made up, but I have never tried this exercise myself,” Stenn admitted. “It must be another of my father’s weird ideas. He says we have to get a ball through the ring from the top. I’ll have a try first.”

  The set up meant nothing to Tymos and Kryslie either, until they watched their friend’s inept attempts. Then some buried instincts roused and Tymos found a forgotten skill returning. Kryslie found the same thing happening – her body recalled how to play basketball and netball, even though her mind had forgotten the games. She and Tymos found themselves teaching skills to their friends.

  When the session finished, they were elated and mentally calm when they returned to their apartments for their evening meal.

  Neither tried to protest about bedtime, but neither were they yet ready to sleep. They pondered the day’s lessons and began to feel they were at last achieving something.

  On a morning four weeks after they began le
ssons, Jono Reslic was accompanied by Xyron when he took Tymos and Kryslie out into the garden for the morning’s physical skills session. The normal cadre of attendants, posted themselves around the chosen clearing, supplemented by some of the palace guards.

  Reslic had not implied that the day’s session was anything out of the ordinary, but the change in venue was distracting the students from noticing the security guards. Having them there was routine, but he did not want them to think it was a lack of trust. All groups of students, when out in the gardens, had security present.

  “Stretching exercises,” Reslic called, attracting the attention of the twins. He was pleased by their immediate attention to his direction. They had stopped resisting his lessons and were now a pleasure to teach. He could not fault their memory, for they worked through each exercise, in the correct order, missing none.

  “Two laps around a circle inside the ring of attendants,” he directed next. He saw Morov, Tymos’s attendant give his master a grin as he went past.

  After that, he had his students perform all the different exercises that he had taught them. Each one was designed to help master some aspect of Royal power. He also tested their memory for he gave them several exercises at once. Each time, he noted that both Tymos and Kryslie paused a moment, as if repeating his directions mentally. He did not need to repeat the instructions.

  Reslic saw Xyron nod briefly and he called for a break and told his students to have a drink. Both were flushed from the exercise but only breathing a little faster than normal. He stayed back when Xyron went over to speak to them, and use the pretext of checking their pulse rate to release his control of their power.

  “Excellent,” Reslic heard Xyron praise them. “Your fitness level has improved greatly. Keep doing as well as you are.”

  Xyron returned to stand next to Reslic. “They seem stable. I felt no change in pulse rate when I removed my controls.”

  “We will see,” Reslic replied quietly. He called for Tymos and Kryslie to repeat the previous exercise.

  He watched closely, and saw Tymos almost stumble, and seem uncoordinated for a few moments. Kryslie paused between exercises, and finished the next few with greater deliberation. He caught the look that passed between Tymos and Kryslie and knew they were aware of the change in themselves.

  Before they had a chance to think about it, he calmly called for them to repeat the exercise yet again. They obeyed him, and again performed flawlessly. He called them over.

  “How do you feel?” he asked them, seeing them almost glance at each other again.

  “Fine now, Sir,” Kryslie admitted first. She knew better than to try making excuses for doing the exercises poorly. Yet she had messed up because she had felt most odd. “I felt clumsy for a while. I don’t know why.”

  “I did too,” Tymos confirmed. “Sort of weak and light headed. I felt really off balance.”

  “And now?” Xyron asked neutrally. He waited for Tymos to find the words he wanted.

  “Still a bit strange – sort of lighter, but sort of more solid too.”

  “Excellent,” Xyron told him.

  “That we were feeling awkward, Sir?” Kryslie asked. “I didn’t like feeling like that.”

  “Do you still feel that way?” Xyron asked her.

  “No…Actually, now I feel better than I can remember.”

  “The awkward feeling should not occur again,” Xyron reassured them. “Though if it does, you should tell me or your teacher at the time. This time, when you felt strange, it was because your body was adjusting to your power waking up. You needed time to assimilate the change in your balance point. You both did that very quickly. I am satisfied that you are ready to start having lessons in the small lyceum. Have your attendants bring you there in the morning.”

  Reslic saw the looks of pleasure on the faces of both Tymos and Kryslie. They deserved the praise. They had improved a very great deal in a short time. However, there was still half an hour of their lesson to go.

  “Run three times around the circle, moving in and out of the attendants.” He hid a smile at the grins of mischief that appeared on his student’s faces.

  Tymos and Kryslie entered the High King’s suite in time for the evening meal. Tanya greeted them as usual with a warm smile, and put down her sewing to come and greet them.

  “I have heard you will be joining your cousins in the small lyceum tomorrow,” she remarked, giving Kryslie a hug and allowing Tymos to kiss her cheek.

  “Yes,” Tymos agreed. “So we were told. I had not realised that Governor Xyron had been controlling our power until then. Do you know why they did that?”

  “I am sure there was an excellent reason,” Tanya reassured them. “It is possibly because you came into it so late. It is not something I know much about, being a commoner by birth. You could ask your father.”

  “Is he here?” Kryslie asked, glancing around the room that displayed more of Tanya’s influence than that of their foster father. With the door to his ‘sanctum’ shut, she didn’t know if he was there.

  “Not yet. Today he has been hearing criminal cases – something to do with a riot in Basiq,” Tanya explained. “He may be late.”

  Kryslie sighed. “I am looking forward to tomorrow. I’d like to see Stenn Reslic again. We’ve been so busy with our private lessons, we never see our friends any more.”

  “Well, don’t let him distract you from your work. Stenn is quite a prankster,” Tanya warned. “All harmless fun, but I have heard he is not applying himself.”

  Tymos grimaced, and Tanya caught the expression. “He should have his father for a teacher. The President does not let us ‘not apply’ ourselves.”

  “All our teachers are like that,” Kryslie commented. “It’s always push, push, push, like we are five years behind everyone else. Surely we were educated before we came here.”

  “We probably were,” Tymos agreed. “But you would think we were dirt scratching savages back then.

  Neither of them was aware that Tymoros had transmitted into the suite, and they jumped when he spoke behind them.

  “I haven’t heard anyone say that,” he admonished gently.

  Tymos blushed faintly. “So why do they keep trying to teach us stuff we know?”

  “Perhaps you could propose a reason,” Tymoros suggested. He turned away slightly and let Aldiv take off the formal brocade over robe he had worn as judge in the law court.

  Tymos stared at his back, but Kryslie proposed, “Well, we have never learnt any of the history, and geography of this planet. Or the language…”

  “Yes, alright,” Tymos agreed. “But the maths and science stuff is so basic.”

  “Should I suggest to Larros that he start each topic with the test and teach you what you don’t get right?” Tymoros proposed. He looked less imposing in the loose fitting long sleeved white shirt.

  “That would work,” Tymos said after a moment of thought. “I mean I don’t mind having a brief revision, but it’s wasting time to go over pages of examples. He could save himself time and get onto what we don’t know, faster.”

  “Indeed,” Tymoros agreed. “Come through to my sanctum and tell me how your day went.”

  He took a data pad from Aldiv and glanced at it as he passed through the door that his attendant held open.

  “When will you want your evening meal, your Majesty?” Aldiv asked.

  “Have the kitchen servers send it up in an hour, will you?” Tymoros decided.

  Aldiv nodded and closed the door after Tymos and Kryslie.

  “I had an excellent report from Jono on your test this morning,” Tymoros commented as he sat in his favourite leather armchair, and gestured for Tymos and Kryslie to sit in the other two chairs.

  Kryslie took the invitation but stayed on the front edge of the seat. Tymos chose to sit cross-legged on the floor. He blurted the question that was on his mind.

  “Why did we have our power controlled? I mean, most of our teachers so far have reiterated th
e ‘don’t take your power for granted’ theme. Larros said it when I tried to tell him I knew how to get the areas of geometric shapes. He said just because we had the power to intuit the answer, didn’t mean we shouldn’t learn how get there step by step. It made no sense. I don’t understand how I was supposed to be doing it differently.”

  “And now?” Tymoros asked without challenge.

  “Now? I still think the same.”

  “What about your physical training?” Tymoros prompted.

  “I know I felt odd this morning and messed up a drill, but I did it again, well enough. So what was the point?”

  “Tymos, you and your sister came into your power late without the benefit of the early lessons given to all Royal Children. We needed time to give you special teaching and for you both to prove you had mastered the basic skills before you could safely join the other children.”

  “What do you mean – safely?” Tymos asked, with faint resentment.

  “Your power began to manifest before you came here. Neither of you were handling it well then, now that you have the necessary techniques, you are doing better,” Tymoros explained. “The matter is no longer important, so long as you keep heeding your trainers. I have had good reports from your other teachers too. They all say you are learning very quickly, and that was without your power to help – just using your natural aptitude.”

  “But why ‘safely’,” Kryslie persisted with the question.

  “It was really a matter of ensuring you were in control of the level of power you have, which is a requirement to be allowed to study in the small lyceum.”

  The answer really didn’t satisfy Kryslie, but she decided to let it pass. Instead, she thought on the new lesson of the afternoon. “You know, Tym, there is one thing that made me feel I had something I didn’t have before.”

  “What?”

  “You know how we started to be taught to use a transmitter?”

  “All that memorising of beam in points and so on?” Tymos commented.

  “That, and the implication we would be able to use one, and Rowan’s comment that the humans we grew up with couldn’t.” Kryslie saw her brother thinking on that.

  “That’s a point,” Tymos agreed. “So what will we be learning in the small lyceum, that we can’t learn with our private tutors?”

  Tymoros smiled wryly. “I expect the most important lesson will be patience. You will be in with the younger students, but still following your personalised learning programs. Though I will suggest that the science and maths be dropped for a time.”

  Tymos felt vindicated. Tymoros smiled faintly in amusement before continuing his explanation.

  “The older students in the small lyceum are taught various mental and physical skills to prepare them for the onset of second stage, and you will learn these with them. You will also be tested to determine your educational level in the various physical, social and cognitive sciences. The results of that testing will determine your placement when you graduate to the large lyceum.”

  Tymos gave a resigned shrug. “So we have to reach this second stage thing before we stop being taught with the babies. Oh, well, at least it will be a change from full on exercise all morning.”

  Kryslie saw Tymoros’s faint smile and guessed, “I don’t think we will be having a complete break from exercise.”

  Tymos glanced at her and then at Tymoros.

  “No, indeed. Perrin Reslic will be taking over your physical skills program for a time. He teaches the preparatory skills I mentioned.”

  “So what is this second stage stuff?” Tymos demanded. “I’ve never heard mention of it.”

  Tymoros understood his foster-son’s impatience; he and Kryslie had a great deal to learn and so far had only touched the basics.

  “I am not sure how much you know or understand,” he began, knowing he needed to be clear. “The power you and Kryslie have received comes to us from the Guardians of Peace. It is inherited by each generation of the three Governors – those that are referred to as Royalty.

  Kryslie nodded, recalling what Tanya had said earlier. “And it usually starts showing when a child is ten or so.”

  “Yes and the early training we give our children is to prepare them so that they recognise the signs and can compensate for the physical changes. Each child is different, but we can generally determine from the power level at this first stage, what their adult potential will be. When the child is older, their power blossoms to their full adult potential. This is what we refer to as ‘second stage’.”

  “So, how long will we have to wait? We are sixteen already,” Tymos asked.

  “While it is generally true that those of us with the strongest power reach second stage at an earlier age, it seldom occurs before a child is thirteen, and rarely later than fifteen,” Tymoros explained. “However, the children of our missionaries that were raised on other worlds often come late into their power, so I really cannot predict when you will reach second stage.”

  “Perhaps we won’t,” Tymos suggested, but he suddenly turned to look at Kryslie. “What?”

  She seemed a trifle pale. “No, I think we will. Do you remember, soon after we got here – the reason why we have the rank we do?”

  “We haven’t really even mastered the first stage,” Tymos said turning equally pale.

  “What if we aren’t ready?” Kryslie said in a frightened voice. “We are not even really aware of what we have.”

  Tymoros leant forward. “Your teachers know that, and will be training you to be ready. Listen to them, obey them, and don’t resent the strict discipline and restrictions we impose on you. You will not control your power unless you can first control yourself both physically and mentally. It is to this end that Jono and Xyron aim with your training. Remember too, that I will always be ready to help you.”

  “But what if we aren’t ready?” Kryslie persisted. “It might happen tomorrow.” She moved from her chair to sit by Tymoros’s feet. He leant down to place a hand on her shoulder.

  Tymos crept to Tymoros’s other side. He gave them both a hug.

  “You must be ready. The Elders have foreseen that you will be as powerful as I am, one day. So don’t waste a moment. Learn as fast as you can.”

  “We will,” Kryslie promised, sensing the concern of her foster father, and still feeling a little afraid. “But I don’t think we can learn any faster – they keep us so busy, we never see our friends and seldom have time to spend with you, since your duties often keep you out late, and we are not allowed up past our bed time.”

  Tymoros brushed his hand over her hair, and noted the glints of red amongst the brown. “There are reasons for keeping you busy, beyond simply teaching you what you need to know. However, now that you are ready for the small lyceum, your evenings will be less hectic. Perhaps Tanya and I can teach you the things that you do not know about living in a royal palace.”

  He aimed to distract them from their fears of the future, and he seemed to succeed.

  Kryslie looked up and said, “Tanya has promised to teach me to dance and to play the harp.”

  “Dancing?” Tymos echoed in disgust. “Must I?”

  “It is an important part of social life at court,” Tymoros stressed in mild rebuke. “In fact, you are both overdue for some lessons in court etiquette. You will have to learn how to behave on formal occasions and how to comport yourselves in the presence of commoners. Not to mention the correct greetings for those of rank in the palace and amongst the commoners.”

  Tymos decided to change the subject. “I would rather learn to play that strategy board game, Father.”

  Tymoros chuckled. “Then perhaps, after we have eaten, I will teach you.