After Sonder left, the door eased shut behind her, and the study fell quiet again.
The general didn't speak for a while. He sat in his chair, one hand curled against the armrest.
He was thinking about what punishment would be fitting for Cadre. And if he was being honest with himself, he already believed the accusations.
Sonder struck him as honest. Not the kind to embellish or invent a slight.
And this wasn't the first time Cadre had gone too far. She had always been fiery—quick to speak, quick to strike, slower to understand.
She was an excellent fighter, better than most adults. But excellence wasn't everything. It didn't make her right. And seeing Sonder must've hit something in Cadre's pride. The general knew the feeling too well.
"Vellichor's daughter outshining my granddaughter," he thought.
It wasn't an impossibility. And as much as he hated to admit it, there was a flicker of jealousy in him too.
"It's because she's never endured any hardship," the general said, breaking the silence.
"She's had peace," Vell answered softly. "That's not weakness. That's a gift."
The general scoffed. "It spoils them. Makes them careless. Entitled."
"It makes them unprepared," Vell corrected. "There's a difference."
"She's never been cold. Never starved. Never bled for a command she didn't understand. Never had to watch someone she cared about fall in the dirt. And now, a single bruise to her pride, and she throws dirt in another girl's face."
"She's young," Vell said. "Still figuring herself out."
"And how do you suggest I help her 'figure it out'? Sit her down for tea? Talk her through her feelings?"
"Why not?"
The general turned. "You can't be serious." His gaze hardened. "Where is the man I knew at the ridge? The one who carved through enemy mages like they were wheat? Who turned a fortress to ash when they took our men captive?"
Vell turned from the window he had been staring out of, his face calm—but his eyes harder than before. "That man is still here. But I try not to use him to raise a child."
The general stood. "So what then? She cheats, and we what? Ask her why? Hope she cries and learns something?"
"She doesn't need pain to learn. She needs truth. She needs to understand why what she did was wrong—not just be punished for it."
"She needs discipline," the general snapped. "A week with no sword. No training, no going out. And if she raises her voice, I'll raise my hand."
"You'd strike her?"
"I was struck. And I learned. And I think you've had your fair share of beatings in your day."
"I'm far older than you, general. My life has left me with scars. And I'm not going to raise Sonder like that."
The general looked into the fire. "You told me I haven't changed. But I look at you, and I barely recognize the man you were."
"I've changed," Vell said. "I've healed. Or tried to."
The general was quiet.
"And if your way doesn't work?" Vell asked after a moment.
The general answered, without doubt. "It will."