Evander lifted his eyes from the scroll on his desk when Calanthe knocked. If he was capable of feeling such a thing, Evander would feel nervous. He and Calanthe had never interacted on a one-on-one basis. Perhaps conversations in the midst of family affairs, but never anything like this. But, there was a first time for everything.

“Enter,” Evander replied, standing. If Calanthe did enter, Evander would take a stab at smiling, though it ended up being nothing more than a small upturn in his lips devoid of warmth. “Please, have a seat.”

The question sat in the air between them a long moment before Evander spoke. During that time, he looked at Calanthe, studying her with a blank-eyed stare. When he did speak, his tone was equally as flat. He had tried to inject as much care into it as he could, but it simply wasn’t his way.

“You do not know me, Calanthe, nor I, you. I must admit, I did not see my being your uncle to be relevant to you or me. But now I know I was wrong.” Evander’s expression was one of clinical detachment as he folded his hands on the desk. “You and I lost Cryus in a way that neither Calliope nor Keion will ever understand. For them, he was a brother. For you and I, he was an anchor. Now, without him, you and I must navigate these uncharted waters.”

Grief. Grief on a stormy sea without a captain.

There was another pause, one of contemplation, before Evander continued. “It is my understanding that you have shown interest in following your aunt's footsteps. I believe that is a waste of your potential. To that end, I’d like to take you on as my apprentice.”

Evander waited, still watching with dark, flat eyes.

Evander considered her question before answering:

“I don’t know.”

I don’t know. Words that Evander seldom thought and uttered less. There were few answers that couldn’t be pulled from the sophisticated machinery of his mind. But in this matter, he found himself quite without bearing. Evander tried once again for softness but to little success. Perhaps his performance would get better with practice.

“You are your father’s daughter,” Evander said matter-of-factly as if that statement alone were enough to answer whatever lingering doubts the girl might have. The second question was a little more complicated, one that Evander took a long moment to turn over before he responded.

Evander didn’t think of his silences as long or uncomfortable - though, in fact, they were. Cyrus has become used to them over the years, and perhaps Calanthe would too.

Without answering, Evander reached into his desk and pulled out a long rolled piece of parchment. He lay it flat on the desk and invited Calanthe to look. What she would see was a meticulously and artfully detailed blueprint for a small metal spider, the size of a tick. The drawing indicated that it would be able to crawl into the ear of any person and allow the possessor of the paired earpiece to eavesdrop on their conversations.

"This is a preliminary design." Evander crossed his arms and sat back in his chair. "What are its shortcomings?"

He had no expectation that Calanthe would answer his question with anything specific, he was simply curious.

Evander’s lip pulled into a smile. It was slight, almost non-existent, but for him, he might as well have been beaming. He was a man of loyalty, not affection. Even his connection to his siblings had never been one of warmth. But with Calanthe, maybe he could try to pick up where Cyrus left off; a last act of service to his lost brother.

“Those were my questions as well. When I showed these plans to your father, I expected the same. But you know what he said?” Evander’s fingers ran across the designs as if the secret to Cyrus’s disappearance lay somewhere between the lines, “He said that words are only a fraction of the picture. Without the other senses, you’re looking at the world through a pinhole.” His fingers lingered for a moment before he folded them together on the desk, looking at Calanthe.

“I need a second set of eyes. I don’t see things the way others do, which can be both a blessing and a curse.” Evander tilted back in his chair. “And in exchange, I’ll teach you what I know. So long as you can keep secret the what and how.”

Evander’s work was not like that of other enchanters. His methods were severe, but the results were impeccable.

The use of the present tense was noted and appreciated. Cyrus wasn’t a lost cause - not yet. Evander believed in his brother enough to give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps this was all part of some plan none of them were clever enough to uncover. Evander didn’t believe it but trying made Cyrus’s loss easier to bear.

“Now,” Evander said, standing. Unceremoniously, he’d lead them to his workshop. When he lay his hand against it, it opened of its own accord. He went inside, beckoning Calanthe to follow. What Calanthe would see was a well-organized but packed workshop, full of inventions and experiments - here, there, and everywhere. Some were instruments with unspeakable uses, ones developed for interrogations of the most gruesome kind. Others were for surveillance, others for war, and others still with purposes Evander had yet to determine.

There was one thing, however, that would draw Calanthe’s attention above all else. A slave lay on the table, draped with a cloth, barely breathing.

“Yes.”

Evander was, so far, hopeful. He followed her to the table, looking down at the slave without feeling, certainly without remorse. The rhythmic rise and fall of the slave’s chest was the only clue that it was still alive; a vessel to be emptied.

“Law and order are what separates Arynn Frey from the chaos of other kingdoms. But as with all things, there are exceptions to be made.” Evander turned to his shelf, taking up an empty crystal and holding it out to Calanthe. “Blackwoods are the exception. So, the sooner you can embrace that you are exceptional, the better.”

He handed the crystal to Calanthe.