(Xyrion POV)

  Xyrion did not sit.

  The roster lay open on the table, already marked, already revised twice. Names shifted less than roles did. Most people stayed where they belonged. A few required constant recalibration.

  Lysara’s name remained where it had been.

  That, in itself, was a decision.

  He had flagged her for rotation removal two days earlier. Not as discipline. Not as censure. Simply as adjustment. Her disappearances—brief, contained, never coinciding with engagement—still altered spacing. Timing depended on predictability. Even controlled variance had cost.

  Vern had struck the note out.

  No comment. Just a clean overwrite and a return mark in the margin.

  Retain.

  Command prerogative.

  Xyrion accepted it. He always did.

  “She’s here,” the aide said.

  Xyrion nodded once.

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  Lysara stepped into the room and stopped exactly where the floor pattern shifted. Not waiting for instruction. Not advancing either.

  “You’re remaining on the team for this rotation.”

  No preface. No framing.

  Her shoulders settled by a fraction.

  “You were flagged for removal,” he continued. “That decision was reviewed.”

  She didn’t look away.

  “Commander Vern overrode it.”

  “You’re being kept,” Xyrion said, “not because you’re irreplaceable, but because you’re already accounted for.”

  He turned the slate so she could see the notations.

  “Your primary role remains academic,” he said. “Alchemy. You answer to Professor Hale for that. That does not change.”

  She nodded once.

  “When deployed,” he continued, “you function as a lifeward. During engagement, that role supersedes all observation work.”

  “Yes.”

  “If you’re pulled again,” Xyrion said, “you return to lab rotation immediately. No delay. No argument. Results will be expected.”

  “I understand.”

  That answer mattered more than compliance.

  “You do not freelance,” he said. “You do not reposition without instruction. And if you leave my sight again without clearance—”

  “I won’t,” she said.

  He studied her for a moment.

  “That’s not what I said,” Xyrion replied. “If you do, you will be rotated out. Vern won’t step in twice.”

  That, finally, registered.

  She inclined her head. “Noted.”

  Xyrion closed the slate.

  “You’re being kept because the team already moves with you in mind,” he said. “Rebuilding costs time. I don’t like recalibrating variables I’ve already measured.”

  No reassurance. No warning beyond that.

  He dismissed her with a nod.

  Lysara left without looking back.

  Xyrion returned his attention to the roster.

  Keeping her meant accepting a variable, a play he had not mapped. Rotating her out would have been simpler, but Vern was running his play.

  That chafed.

  Xyrion adjusted the margins and recalculated accordingly.

  Command was not about preference.

  It was about holding the line that had already been drawn—and accounting for everything that moved near it.