Valens wondered if it would have been more of a chore to take an alumna at the bratty age of six, as was common, or the bratty age of fifteen, as was now his lot.

As Merula Nocticola strode into his sleeping chamber with the brat in question sulking and dragging his feet behind her, he thought he'd prefer to have a six-year-old. At least a child that age wouldn't be prone to mercurial mood swings that threatened to destabilize global weather patterns with every hormonal outburst.

He dreaded to think what his alumna had been doing the past hour to incite the flares, winds, and rains he'd seen outside the skychamber window. In fact, best to avoid thinking about it at all, given the glances he'd caught now and then between Domi and Radix and, just these past few days, the boy and Sidus.

He hoped that he wouldn't have to be the one to discuss the birds and the bees with the kid.

He slid a hopeful glance toward the bathroom door, but the pattering of water against glass signaled Arbita was still busy with her shower and unavailable to deal with this for him.

Sighing, he eyed his surly alumna and the boy's mother. "What is it, Merula?" he asked, feeling exhausted as he watched the woman reach back and tug her foster son in front of her. His mere hour of sleep had been inadequate, a truth echoed by the dark circles under Domi's own eyes.

The Pyrrhaeus rested her hands atop the boy's slender shoulders. "My son has something he wants to discuss with you, Promerenti." She nudged the glowering kid forward. "I'll just leave you two to talk. I'll be right outside, Domi."

Valens watched as the kid's expression darkened in response to that innocuous statement. He hoped that they were not dragging him into the midst of some petty family squabble.

"Well, what is it, Alumna?" he asked as Merula took her leave, closing the door behind her with a significant look at her son. "We need to get ready. We land in a little less than an hour." And Domi certainly could not disembark wearing a wrinkled tunica and paenula. Not if they were going to pull off having him swap places with a kid who had been playing in palaces since birth.

The boy shifted from one foot to the other, peering at the floor. Then, as Valens was about to snap at him to get on with it, Domi blurted, "What's a hypercane?"

Valens blinked. That was not at all what he'd expected. And how did Domi even know a term like that? It was not like the boy was versed in meteorology. "Where did you hear that word?"

"One of the attendants making coffee said it."

Valens's eyes narrowed. The boy was supposed to have gone to visit Sidus, not mingle with the lower class. "Why were you spending time with-- Oh never mind." This gallivanting around would end once Domi came to reside in the palace, so why bother dealing with it now? "A hypercane is a storm, Alumna. A terrible storm, like many hurricanes put together, that cannot be stopped."

"Can't be stopped at all?" The kid's voice was small. Uncharacteristically meek.

Valens shrugged, studying his student's too-pale face and refusal to meet his eyes. He knew that Domi must be exhausted and overwhelmed--who would not be?--but something about this conversation and the boy's demeanor was filling Valens with unease. "Well," he said, frowning at his alumna, "a Princeps Worldholder can stop one. But there should never be a need. The Trellis prevents catastrophic storms from ever forming, let alone growing so massive."

Domi bit his lip, still staring at the skychariot's purple and gold rug like it was beautiful instead of gaudy. Not that the kid would know the difference. He was sure everything looked glamorous to a boy deprived of so much for so long. "How long does it take for a big hurricane to become a hypercane?"

That was a rather odd and specific question. What was the boy going on about? Valens lifted a brow. "How big are we talking about and why are you asking this?"

He paused then, sudden suspicion and concern welling. Eyes narrowing, he reached for promenia and the Caeles. As the low thrum poured into the skychamber, knowledge poured into Valens's head, the question on his mind drawing answers out of the Caeles like a magnet drew iron grains from sand.

A hurricane had destroyed Saxum Exalbidum. Tens of thousands of people on the island were dead or injured after a section of the cliffside capital city had suffered a structural failure and slid into the sea. Millions more would have to relocate from the now-uninhabitable isle to other parts of Provincia Nautae.

The carnage had not stopped in the elegant island city. The hurricane had steamrolled the whole archipelago in Erythros Bay, devastating several smaller cities and villages. Now it was barreling back out to sea after a wild pivot, already larger and more powerful than any hurricane in a thousand years and still growing. It was no longer a question of whether it would become a hypercane, but when.

"Eternal Radiance, Domi..." Valens breathed, dismissing the promenia and sagging down on the edge of the bed.

"Is...is it a hypercane yet?" The young Princeps's voice was little more than a whisper. His face was clivia white, and rain cascaded beneath the skychariot judging by the rolling thunder.

"Not yet," Valens said, unable to get his own voice much louder or steadier than his student's. "But you have to stop it, Alumna, and soon." He swallowed, trying to think of how to explain to a child he doubted had ever heard of a hurricane before today, let alone a hypercane. His ancestors had almost always kept them suppressed. "The hurricane is wandering back out to deep sea, but it's strengthening. When it makes landfall again, it'll make the destruction of the last few hours look like a babe knocking over a stack of blocks."

Domi looked near to tears. No wonder it was pouring outside. "I don't know what to do."

"I know," Valens said, heart hurting for the kid. There could be no Eternal Radiance. What loving, life-giving god would place this kind of horror atop a child's shoulders? He tried to swallow his anger. This situation needed practical solutions, not useless fist-waving at the divine. "That's why it's your duty to learn. As much as you can, as soon as you can."

"Not run away." The words were under Domi's breath, but the kid had not yet learned to pitch his voice to hide it from Lightholder hearing.

"An interesting comment, Alumna," Valens pointed out, scrutinizing the kid with care. Had his student been contemplating fleeing? Eyes devour, where did the boy even imagine he would go?

Domi studied the ground, refusing to meet his gaze.

Valens drew a deep breath. This would need to be addressed with great delicacy, a skill that was far from his forte. The last thing anyone wanted was for him to push the scared kid to flee and have to try to hunt down and subdue a terrified, uncontrolled Princeps Worldholder.

He'd already hunted him down once. Nausea churned at the thought that he might need to do it again.

"I understand the desire to avoid responsibility, Alumna," he said, keeping his voice mild. He suspected it sounded bored to Domi, but any intensity might trigger that desire to flee. His lip quirked. "And I support avoiding unwanted responsibilities as long as you can get away with it."

He'd made the decision eight years ago to prioritize his duties to the Rex and the world over his duties to his curia, and avoided allowing a wife, child, alumna, or anything else to interfere with his responsibility to deal with the Blightlands. He didn't blame Domi for balking at unwanted duty.

The kid looked up at him, eyes hopeful. As a fellow duty-shirker, Valens hated to shatter that hope.

"But when you do find yourself responsible for something, running is no longer an option, Alumna. Not because you can't run but because it's no longer right." He tried to sound firm without sounding stern but had a bad feeling he just sounded disinterested. Where was Arbita when he needed her? Pep talks were not his thing. But his new wife was taking her dear sweet time with her shower. "That's when it's time to take your duty seriously and do as you must to the best of your ability even if you don't like it." His eyes narrowed at his student. "Even if it's inconvenient."

"Even if it's scary?" The poor kid sounded ashamed.

"If it's frightening to you," Valens said, "remember how terrifying it is for those without your power."

At last, the boy looked up at him, glaring. "But I don't have any power. I'm a Pullatus and--"

"You are not a Pullatus and never were." The boy jerked as if he'd been slapped. Too much. Valens gentled his tone, backtracking. "But you learned things among them. Things no other Princeps Worldholder ever has," he added.

That caught the kid's attention. Domi stared at him, wide-eyed and waiting.

Eyes devour. Valens had no idea what the hell that might be, but the words had felt true, somehow. But the boy needed reassurance now, not later, so he struggled to put voice to the dawning thoughts. "You walk in a new world now as a Lightholder. Soon you will enter another yet when you put on the onyx crown. But you bring knowledge with you from your time with the Pullati. Most Trueborns never had to struggle to survive. You have. You know the danger ordinary people face in times like this better than the most Promethidae. I know that will drive you further than others to protect them."

"Daedalus tried to protect them," Domi pointed out.

"Yes, and his ancestors tried as well. Some even did a decent job. But they all had to do so without your expert knowledge of the way ordinary people are affected. And Pyrrhaei and Pullati aren't some statistic to you. They're your Ma. Radix. You've seen them sick and hurt. You know how fragile their lives are and value their lives more because of it."

It still shamed him how long it had taken him to send Arbita to heal the boy's mother of her consumptive disease. Her impending death had meant little more to him at first than a sad sort of convenience--an unfortunate but also useful removal of a distraction from the boy's new life as a Trueborn.  Even when he'd changed his mind and sent his betrothed to help her, the primary reason driving him had been the realization that if he didn't, the kid would not only fret nonstop but do something stupid.

"You also," he went on, recalling Domi's scheme to house a bunch of Pullati kids over Germinating, "have a strong awareness of things that aren't right in the lives of the lower classes, and ideas about how to fix them. But unlike when you were among the Pullati, you now have vast wealth and political power at your disposal. You have the Trellis. You're already beginning to learn how to control it. And you're surrounded by capable people who are on hand to use their substantial skills to help you. All of this is power that those depending on you don't have. It's your responsibility to use that power to protect them, because if you don't, who will?"

"Yeah."

He was stunned by the simple word. Small, quiet, but the kid was looking up at him with something like relief.

"Were you planning to run away?" He tried his utmost to keep his tone casual. Non-judgmental.

"Yeah." Domi rubbed the back of his neck. "What would you have done?"

Valens shrugged. "Probably thumped you over your head and had Arbita force-feed you sedatives to keep you out until we reached the palace." He eyed the kid assessingly. He didn't look glum and avoidant, just nervous. "I trust that I don't have to do that anymore?"

"Yeah, you can trust me." Quiet still, but sincere. Good. Thank the Eternal Radiance the kid was a terrible liar.

"Great," Valens said dryly, but relief coursed through him like lightning. "Good talk. Now let's get you dressed like a proper Princeps Sewer Rat, shall we?"