“Mostly Layla and I trained,” he says. “Our days and evenings were filled with tutors, and when we weren’t training we were shadowing our parents and meeting our foreign contacts. There wasn’t time for much else. An occasional shopping trip to pick up supplies or Strategia social functions, sure, but we didn’t do what you would probably think of as typical. There were no visits to toy stores or theme parks, and there were definitely no playgrounds. If we exhibited our agility skills in the open, people would have instantly realized there was something different about us.”

“Oh,” I say, studying him. “That…”

He smiles at me. “Don’t hold back on my account.”

“That sounds like it sucks?” I say, adjusting my tone so the inflection is like a question, not an insult.

But he just laughs. “Sometimes it really did,” he says. “Although I don’t think Layla ever felt that way. She was the same as a three-year-old as she is now. Before she could even read she was carrying around books in a little satchel she got in London, like a tiny lawyer.” He pauses and I realize this is the first time he’s actively shared what his life was like, not just a single memory or an explanation, but more casually, like he trusts me with it.

I lean back in my seat. “So that’s what my life would have been like if I’d been raised a Strategia, huh?”

He changes the hand he’s driving with. “Yes and no. Not all Strategia have the perfectionist parents that Layla and I do, but there’s always some version of training, especially for the kids who are expected to go to the Academy.”

“And what would you do if you needed a break? What would you do for fun?” I say, not accepting that it’s possible to have a childhood completely devoid of anything silly.

“Set traps for Layla,” he says with a mischievous grin. “I once rigged a cake to drop on her head when she entered the dining room. I got in loads of trouble, but it was totally worth it.” He sips his coffee. “And if I really needed some quiet time, I would climb up to the roof. There were parts of it that were just decorative, domes with cutout stonework and so on. I would tuck myself up in one nook or another. I’m certain my parents knew where I was, but no one ever bothered me up there. What about you? What was it like being with non-Strategia so often?”