"Stop." Warmth in Amberdrake's voice. "Misery is not what I wish you practice. You find it hard be still? I will think on what instead. For now, do what you need, feel comfortable in your body." The smile spreads to a grin as he gestures around the room. "Jump, do somersaults, roll around on rug by fire – I recommend, very good bearskin. Whatever helps relax." 

—he laughs. "Is it? Maybe I will. But no, if the sitting still doesn't matter and all I need to do is not be thinking—"

—then he should dance. He gets up and does just that. As soon as he's in motion, everything feels better. There's no music but he can keep a rhythm without it, and he does, whirling through complex patterns of movement with a focus and serenity he was totally unable to achieve while sitting still.

Amberdrake watches silently, still smiling and occasionally chuckling under his breath, until the hourglass runs dry. He claps his hands. "Good. Stop – but need not sit. We work up to that, I think." His expression is amused and thoughtful at the same time. "Fascinating. I will need remember this if I meet other children who cannot sit still. How do you feel, now, in your body and in your mind?" 

"—better," he says, a little surprised by how much better. He remembers dance lessons as something he wanted more of than his father was willing to allow, remembers how good it felt to move and not have to worry about anything but movement, but it's never occurred to him to try dancing when he was upset and see if it calmed him down.

"Good. Very, very good." Amberdrake rises as well. "I think this be your practice now. A candlemark each day, to start – it need not be all at once. I wish that this become a state familiar to you, first, before we begin other exercises. May I?" He reaches to touch Sakshemar's shoulder again, and closes his eyes for a long thirty seconds. 

"Ah," he says, opening them. "Before I return you to Lionstar, I think we need work on shielding. You have some self-teaching? You shield at all, but clumsily. It will help your control of emotions greatly if you are not taking in those of others also. Now that you are calmed, I will show you." 

And he'll lead Sakshemar through centering and grounding, observing and offering gentle prompts and corrections, and then through weaving a properly grounded shield. Which he can test by projecting with his own Gift and observing the results. (If Sakshemar gets frustrated, Amberdrake can tell him to dance for a minute or two until he's calm again.) 

"How do you feel?" he says finally, standing back. It's probably been a candlemark by now. "Tired?" 

He follows along with the lesson, but he's a little hesitant at first, thinking about something.

"Yes," he admits, when Amberdrake asks. Then he pauses, with a thoughtful frown. "...Is it really true, that feeling other people's feelings makes it harder to keep hold of mine? I can see how it would, I guess, but... I think there's ways it makes it easier, too."

Amberdrake looks thoughtful again, frowning a little. 

"Curious to hear how you think it easier," he says finally, "though I have guesses. In any case, best to have a choice. Enough control that YOU decide. Can shield lightly, feel emotions but not be overwhelmed by them, or shield fully if you need no distraction. That is my opinion." 

He nods slowly. "Yes, that's reasonable."

...he doesn't even have the excuse of needing to say it in a foreign language and yet somehow it's still really difficult to put this concept into words.

"It's—easier to see someone else's perspective when it's right there in my head. And easier not to get caught up in my own feelings when I can think about someone else's. And—I don't think I'd have calmed down so quickly, when your friend Skandranon did his stupid thing, if I hadn't been able to feel that there was no serious threat there."

Amberdrake's brows lift. "And easier to shift priorities, if you feel your friend is afraid and needing comfort, and to calm him you need be calm yourself? I have seen you make that motion often, not only when Skan was being a–" he frowns for a moment and switches to Kaled'a'in, "a complete ass." 

He giggles, and helpfully provides a translation. "But yes. That too."

"Hmm. You make a point." Amberdrake glances at the window. "Time to return to Lionstar, I think. Practice, and come to me if you have difficulty. Otherwise, I will teach you again in some days, next steps." 

Sakshemar will find Lionstar asleep, with Kechara curled up beside his pillow, preening his hair with her beak. "Sakshemar!" she whispers. "Friend, good to see!" 

"Same you!" he whispers back, sitting down by the side of the bed. What a good cute cuddlesome friend.

A while later, Lionstar wakes. His face lights up when he sees Sakshemar, then grows serious.

”I need some time by myself,” he tells Kechara, gently shooing her out. “Come back tonight?” He waits until she’s gone and switches languages. “What Amberdrake want? Is trouble?”

"He made a guess. I told him to unmake the guess and never speak of it again. Didn't say either way if he was right, but he came to his own conclusions. He does actually want me to train as a kestra'chern—says it might help me control my temper."

Lionstar spends a moment parsing that, and then frowns, and chews on it for a while.

”Not like,” he says finally, keeping his voice low. “Maybe not trouble, but, too close.” And he can think now but not quickly or clearly; the possible ramifications are too many and complicated for him to keep track in his head. And it seems like the worst idea to commit this topic to paper, even vaguely and in cipher.

He shrugs. ”Is this way. He teach you? It help?”

He nods. "Yeah. It helps a surprising amount, actually."

"I glad." He switches back to Kaled'a'in; his head is still foggy enough that it's draining speaking in Haighlei for long. "The Healer who came today said I ought try a longer walk today. Would you come in case I need help again?" His physical stamina is improving faster than his mental stamina, and much faster than his ability to use his Gift at all – the last attempt at a tiny mage-light had him curled up in a ball in agony for hours, and now he's wary to try again – but he's still tiring quickly and occasionally has dizzy spells for no reason. 

"Of course."

The walk goes fine; when Lionstar feels faint at one point, he can call out right away, Sakshemar is there to catch and steady him, and they make it back to his bed. (Lionstar immediately falls asleep for the next several hours). 

The next few days pass uneventfully. Amberdrake checks in on Sakshemar's progress a few times, and suggests a couple of exercises: that he try just walking while entirely focused on his body the way he is with dance, or with tapping his fingers or toes. Things he can do in public, less obviously. Lionstar isn't well but he's doing better; he can read for ten minutes at a stretch and write without the letters wandering all over the page. He's less irritable and easily startled, more like his usual self.

This is the point at which Amberdrake comes by, this type accompanied again by General Judeth, and looking very serious. 

Oh boy, what is it now.

"Not an emergency," Amberdrake quickly clarifies. "Judeth?" She takes a scroll from her tunic and passes it to him. "We received a return message from your people in Khimbata – signed by the King, though I do not know that it was written by him. It is mostly not concerning, though it seems they wish to quibble with the request for reparations. I simply wanted your help in interpreting it – I am fluent enough, but not in the formal phrasings, and I wish to avoid misinterpretation." 

He unrolls the parchment and passes it over for Sakshemar to read. 

He squints at the page, reads it over, then reads it over again.

"Oh, Shalaman does like you," he says, raising his eyebrows slightly. "This is—more friendly than I expected. Let me think how to translate..."

He frowns at the note, lost in thought, for a few seconds.

Then: "Most of this I think means what you'd expect it to. This, though, here," he indicates a particularly elaborate sentence, "this is regal speech. He is saying... ugh, there's so much context to this... when he reminds you that the one who did the crime is dead, the implication is that by most standards his kingdom's obligation to yours ends there, and if you want anything from him you'll have no justification in seeking it by force. But then he says he grieves with you for the harm done—and he uses the personal and not the regal form of 'grieve', which could be that he feels very friendly toward you or could just be that he didn't think you'd recognize the regal form, it's almost never used outside state funerals—and that means he is open to being convinced about the reparations, as long as you spend a good long while coaxing them out of him so nobody thinks he's weak for giving in too soon. He's right to worry, everyone knows he's softhearted for a king. Anyway, then he says he's glad justice was done, which is the closest he can get to apologizing at this point, and he formally acknowledges your ruling that I did no crime, which I bet my father pressured him into because even Shalaman shouldn't be so eager to set the precedent of letting a foreign people haul his subjects into their own courts without consulting him first. Yeah, the very next sentence more or less says that this is a very special circumstance and normally if a Haighlei kills another Haighlei on your land you should let the Haighlei deal with it."

Amberdrake relaxes visibly. (Judeth doesn’t; she still looks tense and unhappy.)

”I hoped so,” he says in Haighlei. “Good to hear you confirm my hopes.” And back to his own tongue, glancing at Judeth again. “It is not over yet, of course, but perhaps this business will come to a peaceful end after all.”

Judeth scowls. “There’s an unexplained boat full of dead bodies. Which Shalaman doesn’t know about, and we still don’t have a good way to tell him since we don’t know what happened. He could change tack rather quickly.”