Adrián woke up at seven in the morning with his left hand still clenched in the air, in the exact position he had used to generate the little violet bird of light the night before.
He stared at his hand.
"..."
He moved his fingers.
Opened them.
Closed them.
It felt exactly like he had spent the entire night sleeping with a muscle tensed.
He dragged a hand down his face, got up, took a shower, and changed into comfortable training clothes—black sweatpants, a white sleeveless shirt, and sneakers that one of the lesser familiars had apparently left in his closet at some point without him noticing.
Then he went downstairs to the dining room.
Ishtar was already there.
Wearing her school uniform.
Adrián immediately registered that as unusual, considering classes didn’t start for another two hours.
"Ishtar."
"Brother-in-law."
"Uniform."
"I’m not going to class today."
"...Why not?"
"Because today they’re forcing me to participate in your training. Rhea told me last night. And I, brother-in-law, do not participate in other people’s training sessions wearing casual clothes."
She adjusted her tie.
"It’s a matter of style."
"A school uniform isn’t training clothes."
"It’s my uniform. I decide what it is. Sit."
Adrián sat.
The same lesser familiar as always served him coffee.
This time Adrián managed to stop himself from saying thank you.
"Ishtar."
"What?"
"Why do you have to participate?"
"Because last night, after we left the training room, I made a comment."
She took a bite of toast.
"About how you’d probably need three weeks before you could create a second illusion."
"Okay."
"Silvano heard me. Lira heard me. Rhea heard me."
She chewed.
"And all three of them decided that if I was going to make fun of you that much, I could personally demonstrate how things are supposed to be done."
"..."
"Yes."
She pointed her toast at him.
"This is your fault for existing."
"Ishtar, I didn’t say anything."
"I know. Guilt by association. Ancient legal principle. Very respected."
She pointed at his plate.
"Eat."
Adrián ate.
More than yesterday.
He was genuinely hungry.
It was a kind of hunger he hadn’t felt in days—the physical hunger of a body that had learned to demand fuel after the Copy exercise.
Ishtar watched him eat with that intense focus Adrián was already beginning to recognize.
"Brother-in-law."
"Yeah?"
"How do you feel today?"
"Tired."
"Just tired?"
"A little..."
Adrián thought about it.
"Different."
"Where?"
"My hand."
He flexed his fingers.
"Like there’s something settled inside it that wasn’t there before."
"That’s the Copy. Totally normal. It’ll last a few days. Then it integrates completely and you stop noticing it."
"Okay."
"Today you’re doing Copy again."
She took another bite.
"And you’re also fighting."
Adrián stopped.
"Fighting?"
"Combat against Lira. You’re going to try using the Mask and your copied ability at the same time against a real opponent who’s actually trying to attack you."
She gestured lazily with one hand.
"Silvano and I will be watching."
Adrián set down his fork.
"...Against Lira."
"Correct."
"The fifth strongest person in the retinue."
"Correct."
"The woman who basically told me last night that she already knows how humans with Relics are hunted."
"Oh, brother-in-law, you’re exaggerating. Lira didn’t say that."
"Almost."
"Almost isn’t said. Eat."
"Ishtar."
"Brother-in-law."
"Is fighting her on my first day of actual practice a good idea?"
"No."
Adrián stared at her.
"But Rhea thinks it is. And Rhea is in charge."
Ishtar shrugged.
"So today you fight Lira."
Another bite of toast.
"You’ll probably lose."
She smiled.
"And you’ll probably learn something."
"Okay."
"And before your fight with Lira, I’m fighting Silvano."
Adrián stopped chewing.
"We’re going to show you what real combat looks like."
"...You against Silvano."
"Correct."
"The third strongest member of the retinue."
"Correct."
"And you’re the tenth strongest..."
He paused.
"Wait. Of the House? No. Hold on. What was your ranking again?"
Ishtar smiled around a piece of toast.
Then shoved the entire thing into her mouth.
She spoke while chewing with the perfect elegance of a girl who had spent eighteen years mastering the technique.
"Brother-in-law, I don’t have an official ranking in the retinue."
Adrián frowned.
"I’m family."
She swallowed.
"Mistress’s blood siblings don’t participate in the rankings because those rankings are for converted subordinates."
She pointed at herself.
"I’m outside the system."
"...Okay."
Adrián leaned forward.
"And if you were in the system?"
Ishtar smiled.
"I’d be second."
Adrián stared at her.
"After my sister."
Another pause.
"Before Kael."
"..."
"Yeah."
"Ishtar."
"What?"
"You’ve known this since the first day. Why didn’t you tell me?"
"Brother-in-law, if I told you everything on your first day, what would you have left to discover?"
She tilted her head.
"That would be boring for you."
A smile.
"And boring for me."
She pointed at his breakfast.
"Eat your juice."
Adrián stared at her.
Ishtar Alastor.
The girl with red pigtails and lollipops.
The assigned seatmate who destroyed her own clothes during practice.
The annoying sister-in-law.
The second strongest member of one of the most important demonic noble Houses in the city.
"..."
"Eat, brother-in-law."
Adrián ate his juice.
In silence.
With the very specific feeling of a man who had spent the last nine days systematically underestimating absolutely everything around him.
---
They went down to the training room at nine.
Silvano was already inside.
No vest this time.
No glasses.
No book.
Just a white long-sleeved shirt rolled up to the elbows, dark slacks, and polished leather shoes.
He stood in the center of the room with his hands clasped behind his back, carrying the exact calm of a man who had done this countless times and no longer needed to warm up.
Lira was already sprawled across her usual violet rug in one corner.
Tea.
Fan.
The expression of someone who had come to watch a show.
"Brother-in-law. Mistress. Good morning," Silvano said.
"Silvano," Adrián replied.
"Silvano," Ishtar replied.
Her tone was very different from Adrián’s.
They looked at each other.
Adrián noticed it immediately.
Silvano and Ishtar held each other’s gaze for several long seconds with a kind of professional courtesy that was almost affectionate, but also completely formal.
Like two relatives who cared about each other and had known each other for decades.
"Ishtar," Silvano said. "The comment I heard yesterday was not one you were in a position to make."
"You heard correctly."
"Are you going to defend the comment, or withdraw it?"
"I’m defending it."
Ishtar smiled.
"Adrián is going to need three weeks to generate a second illusion."
She folded her arms.
"I stand by it."
"Good."
Silvano lowered his hands from behind his back.
"Then we fight."
"We fight."
Ishtar walked into the center of the room.
She stopped in front of Silvano.
Removed her school shoes in two quick movements.
Kicked them toward the wall.
Adjusted both red pigtails with her hands.
Rolled her neck to the left.
Then to the right.
And dropped into a fighting stance.
Low.
Feet shoulder-width apart.
Hands open at her sides.
Fingers slightly curled.
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