The Council Chamber greeted them with its usual somber solemnity. A long table covered with maps and scrolls, heavy curtains on the windows that muted the morning light, and a tension hanging in the air like the calm before a storm.
Tywin sat at the head of the table, his face darker than usual. Beside him were generals, advisors, and several vassals. They all rose as Randel entered, leading Amanda behind him. Roxana brought up the rear, her steps quiet but confident.
“Be seated,” the old duke’s voice was low, lacking its usual authority. There was fatigue in it. And unease.
Randel took his place. Amanda sat beside him—not behind, not to the side, but in the chair that had been specially set for her. Lately, this had become the norm. No one objected.
“I have received a report from the southern borders,” Tywin began, and his words made everyone freeze. “There is a rebellion in the Sardar Khanate.”
Roxana straightened.
“A rebellion?”
“Yes,” Tywin unrolled the map, pointing to the southern territories. “Slaves. Escaped convicts. Those whom the khanate has oppressed for years. They have united under one man. And now they control most of the eastern provinces.”
“Who is this man?” Randel asked.
Tywin paused. His gaze swept across the faces of those present and finally settled on Amanda.
“His name is Kaelan. They say he was a slave in the stone quarries. He escaped. Gathered a band of followers. And now he leads thousands. The Sardar Khan has requested aid from the Empire, but Cassius is hesitating. It is not in his interest to get involved in someone else’s war when he has his own problems.”
Amanda froze.
Everything inside her came crashing down. A name she had not heard in many months. A name she had buried along with that life, that village, that past which had never truly been hers. But her body remembered. The body of Amanda—her hands, her heart—everything trembled at the sound of that name.
Kaelan…
She felt the ground slipping away beneath her feet. The air grew heavy, almost weightless. All the faces in the hall blurred, and only one name pounded in her temples like a death knell.
My brother… Is he alive?
In that massacre, he should never have survived. In that battle in the village, when she fled through the forest on horseback, no one was supposed to make it out alive.
But now… now he was here. Alive. Strong. Leading a rebellion. If it really was him. That still needed to be confirmed.
“The Empire is not intervening,” Tywin continued. “But refugees are heading toward our borders. The Sardar Khan is losing control. If the rebellion spreads, we will find ourselves caught between two fires.”
“What should we do?” one of the generals asked.
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“Wait,” Tywin replied. “And prepare. Fortify the southern borders. Strengthen the patrols.”
The meeting continued. They spoke of troops, borders, and how to defend the southern frontiers if the uprising spilled over into the duchy. Amanda listened, but she didn’t hear. Before her eyes stood a face — the face of her brother as he shouted for her to run from the village. The face of the one who had shielded their home so she could escape. The one who, by all rights, should have died.
She sat motionless, her face behind the mask showing nothing. But inside, a storm raged. She could not speak. She could not confess. Not here. Not in front of everyone.
If it’s him… if he’s truly alive… what do I do? Search for him? Stay silent? Tell Randel?
Her thoughts tangled, her heart pounding somewhere in her throat. She didn’t even notice when the meeting ended. The generals were leaving, their faces grim and focused. Roxana cast her a quick glance but said nothing.
Randel took her hand.
“Come,” he said softly. “You’re exhausted.”
She nodded, unable to speak. They stepped into the corridor, and only when the heavy doors closed behind them did Randel stop.
“You’re trembling,” he said, turning to her.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” he said, squeezing her hand. “From the moment my father spoke that name, you’ve been… different. What’s going on?”
Amanda looked at him. There was worry in his eyes. And love. The same love that had once terrified her, but now had become her only anchor. Yet she could not tell him the truth. Not now. Not like this.
How am I supposed to explain to him that this name belongs to the brother of the girl whose body I inhabit? That I am not Amanda? That I am a stranger in this world?
“Nothing,” she said. “It’s just… I remembered. That name. I’ve heard it before. In my dreams. In my visions. It… it’s connected to my past.”
Randel frowned. He was waiting for more. Waiting for her to open up. But she remained silent.
“You don’t want to tell me,” he said. There was no anger in his voice — only something deeper. Disappointment.
“I can’t,” she whispered. “Not yet.”
He released her hand.
“Very well,” he said. “When you can… I’ll be here.”
He turned and walked down the corridor, leaving her alone.
Amanda watched him go, and everything inside her tightened. She saw how his shoulders tensed, how his steps grew heavier. He was hurt. He didn’t show it openly, but she could feel it.
You don’t understand,
she wanted to shout after him.
You can’t understand! If I tell you the truth, you’ll look at me differently. You’ll see not the Keeper, not the woman you love, but a foreign soul in a borrowed body!
But she stayed silent. And that silence weighed heavier than any words.
She didn’t follow him. She couldn’t. Instead, she went out into the garden, sat down on the bench by the fountain, removed her mask, and simply stared at the water as it flowed endlessly, tireless and ceaseless.
“You hurt him,” Roxana’s voice came from behind.
Amanda didn’t turn around.
“I know.”
“He was waiting for you to speak. To share something. But you shut him out.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t, or won’t?”
Amanda lifted her head. Roxana stood on the path with her arms crossed over her chest, her face serious.
“It’s not my secret to tell,” Amanda said. “This… this isn’t my past. Not entirely.”
Roxana looked at her for a long time. Very long.
“You don’t have to tell everything,” she said at last. “But he deserves to know that you trust him. Even if you can’t tell him all of it.”
“And what if I do tell him, and he… turns away?”
“He won’t,” Roxana said, sitting down beside her. “I know my brother. He can wait. He can get angry. But he will never turn away from those he loves.”
Amanda remained silent. She thought that perhaps Roxana was right. That perhaps she should tell him. Not everything. But enough.
“I’ll think about it,” she said.
“Do that,” Roxana replied, rising to her feet. “But not for too long. He’s waiting.”
She left, leaving Amanda alone with her thoughts. And with the name that had turned her entire world upside down.
Kaelan,
she thought.
If it really is you… if you’re alive… what am I supposed to do? Look for you? Stay silent? Tell the truth?
She didn’t know. But she knew one thing—she could no longer afford to lose the people she cared about. Not her brother. Not Randel. No one.
She stood up and walked toward the heir’s chambers. She needed to talk to him. Before it was too late. While he was still waiting.