Every potential Heir learned this from the moment they could walk. They all had tests to determine their flaws; Discordia’s was deemed excessive empathy. She’d been given an Evoli nurse as a toddler. A majority of Evoli minds were incompatible with programming, but Livia had suffered a minor brain injury that rendered her mental empath defenses useless. As a result, the Oracle’s programming was threaded through Livia’s mind even deeper than the average Tholosian. She was compliant. She was docile. She was kind. Discordia was purposely allowed to bond with Livia for years, had come to love the nurse.

Do you think she’ll still love you if I lift the programming? Mistress Heraia had asked mockingly.

Yes, Discordia had said. She was still a child. So stupid. So foolish. Yes.

As soon as she was free of the Oracle, Livia had tried to smother Discordia in her sleep.

And Discordia had killed the woman who had raised her to save her own neck.

She blinked hard, bringing herself back to the present. “I need you to be better than this. Do you understand me?”

Damocles’s lip curled. “You’re not my damn prefect.” He sounded so young, so petulant. Almost a man, still behaving like a boy.

“No, I’m not, and your prefect should have done his job.” When Damocles didn’t respond, Eris said, “You’ll never make it if you keep letting emotion get in the way. It’s why you’re losing this game, over and over. You want to make it to the final two? Stop. Caring.”

She wondered if he’d hit her again. If he did, she would walk away. One of her other brothers would ally with her. Maybe Xander; he was still unpaired.

“Fine. Let’s start the moment the ban is lifted.” His lips curved into an unexpected smile. “Lucky for us, Adrian is back from field training.”

Startled, Discordia lifted her blade from his throat. “You’re eager, aren’t you?”

“Eagerness has nothing to do with it. Father is leaving on the night craft tomorrow.”

There it was. During their training, they had so rarely seen their father; they had been raised in the academy since birth. He came only for special ceremonies, Tholosian military grand tours after their victories, and the occasional progress assessment. Once, Discordia had glanced up from her sparring to the window of the observation deck to find him watching her. She’d thought she had caught his nod of approval.

“You want him to see,” she said.

Damocles raised an eyebrow, as if the answer were obvious. “Don’t you?” He shoved her off and stood. “Meet me at Adrian’s gymnasium tomorrow at sundown.” As he started for the door, he said over his shoulder. “I can’t wait to see the look on Father’s face.”