Chapter 10
TEN
NOLAN
The library archives are quiet, but Mira left the two of us alone to go back and man the front desk. Tamsin’s boots are propped up on the long table, and she’s humming some off-key rendition of a lullaby that’s definitely more of a curse.
“I know she’s awake, they said I could see her when she woke up,” I say, flipping another page of the old Veil threads tome restlessly. “Professor Marris is with her, but no one’s telling us anything.”
Tamsin kicks the leg of my chair. “Duh. That’s what they do. Classic power move. Keep the actual important people in the dark.”
“I don’t think I qualify as important,” I mutter.
“You’re veiled-tethered soul thread number three.
” She raises three fingers like it's a scout salute. “That makes you Important with a capital I and a silent ‘screw you’ to the Council. Not that they know any of that, if Professor Marris can be believed. Do you think she’s really going to try to help?”
I shoot her a look, but she just grins and leans back farther, tipping precariously in her chair.
“I trust Professor Marris, she’s protected her in the past.” I pause, my mind circling on someone else I thought I trusted. “You think Raiden’s acting weird?” I ask.
Tamsin snorts. “Raiden was born weird. But yeah. Extra-weird lately. Broody. Pacing. Avoiding eye contact like everyone’s contagious.”
“He hasn’t even looked at me since I woke up.” My voice lowers. “I don’t think he’s fighting to save Lindsay either.”
Tamsin’s chair slams forward suddenly, boots hitting the ground. “That’s because they’re going to sever the Veilbond.”
My chest goes tight. “What? And you didn’t think to mention that the second you sat down?” I push my glasses back up my nose so I can glare at her properly. But I probably look more like a golden retriever begging for attention. What can I say, I’m not very good at the broody male role.
She shrugs, unbothered, proving my thoughts right—I’ll never be Kael or Raiden, that’s for sure. “Overheard it. One of the baby professors and their even baby-er assistant were whispering in the corridor like the walls don’t have ears. Dumbasses.”
“They can’t just—” I stand, then immediately sit back down when my vision tilts. “I’m sure she didn’t ask for that. We all know she didn’t cause what happened. Why is the Council treating her like the enemy?”
“They don’t care,” she says. “They just want her boxed and bagged before the full moon. Before she makes more trouble.”
“I hate this.” The words grind out of me. “She saved the school.”
“And now they’re treating her like a glitch in the system,” Tamsin says. “Like she’s some corrupted download that needs patching.”
A voice breaks in from the shadows. Low and cool.
“Then maybe it’s time someone broke the system.”
We both spin toward the entrance of the nearest aisle. Auron. Leaning against a bookshelf as if he’s been listening to our conversation the whole time.
Tamsin blinks. “Okay, you’re not supposed to be here down here, you don’t have clearance."
“It’s a library, and I also have little library girls who will do me favors,” he says dryly, quirking an eyebrow at her. “And I could say the same for you.”
“But you won’t,” she says, crossing her arms. “Because if you wanted us in trouble, you wouldn’t have announced your creepy lurker presence.
You would have just reported us. Which means you either want something from us, or you’ve finally decided to stop brooding in cryptic silence like a rejected Batman villain.
We saw how you ran when the Veil opened, so we know you’re a coward already. ”
Auron doesn’t flinch. “I don’t need to answer to you. But I do need you to shut up long enough to listen.”
I glance at Tamsin, who shrugs like Why not? and kicks her feet up again.
“You have… theories?” I ask, cautiously.
“I have information,” Auron says. “And an interest in keeping Lindsay Blake breathing.”
Tamsin sits up straighter, blinking. “Okay, what? That was almost a full paragraph. Are you dying? Is this, like, your cryptic farewell tour?”
Auron exhales through his nose. “I’m not dying.”
“Shame,” she mutters, “I’d probably like you better as a ghost. You know, someone I’d never have to see again.”
I clear my throat, cutting through the tension before Tamsin can start telling him exactly what kind of ghost Auron would be.
"Why are you really here?" I ask, keeping my voice level. "You said you had information. About Lindsay."
Auron’s gaze flicks to me, cold and unreadable. “The council’s already made their decision. They’re going to bind her magic.”
I freeze. “That’s not— They said it was a possibility. A last resort.”
“It was never a question,” Auron says, like it’s the simplest truth in the world. “They’ve been planning it since the moment she survived the rift opening.”
Tamsin’s mouth opens. Closes. Then, “Okay, no offense, but how do you know this? Did your brooding corner come with a crystal ball subscription?”
“I have access,” he says flatly. “More than either of you.”
“That’s not an answer,” I say carefully. “Why would you even care? You’ve never exactly… involved yourself.”
Auron holds my gaze for a long moment, and something flickers there—something almost human. “Maybe I have feelings for her.”
Tamsin chokes on a laugh. “Oh please. You mean for her power. You probably want to bottle it and bathe in it like some creepy Veil vampire.”
He doesn’t deny it. Which is somehow worse.
The sharp edge of jealousy cuts through me before I can stop it. Auron—tall, terrifying, always five seconds from incinerating someone with a glare—actually could belong in Lindsay’s world. Bloodborn magic and all.
I’m just the nerd who carries two different kinds of enchanted notebooks, knows all of the protection runes, and recharges in the quiet of my dorm room.
But jealousy isn’t going to save her.
So I shove it down, bury it somewhere deep, and ask the only question that matters. “Do you actually care about protecting her? Or is this just about your own agenda?”
His voice is even. “Does it matter? The Council wants her contained. Erased. I don’t.”
Tamsin narrows her eyes. “You still haven’t told us why.”
“I don’t owe you every truth I carry,” Auron says. “But I owe her a chance to fight back.”
“Fine,” I say. “Then let’s talk strategy.”
Tamsin whistles low, dragging a chair toward us. “Look at you, Noles. All serious and alpha-coded. Lindsay would be proud.”
I don’t smile. Because I don’t want her to be proud of me. I just want her safe.
Tamsin flops into the chair, swinging her legs like this is a casual group project and not a let’s-defy-the-magical-council meeting.
“So, o asshole-shaped icy lord, what’s your plan? And why exactly do you need us if you’re so special and powerful at this school?”
Auron’s jaw tightens. “Because I can’t be seen helping her.”
“Uh-huh.” Tamsin taps her temple. “Knew there was a catch.”
I lean forward. “Why not?”
He hesitates. For once, something like discomfort flickers across his expression. “Because of who my father is.”
I glance at Tamsin, but she’s already sitting straighter.
“You’re not just a legacy student,” I say slowly. I don’t know why I didn’t put it together already. Maybe that’s why he’s such an ass. “You’re tied to one of the ruling families.”
“Not just tied,” Auron says. “I’m bound to the Circle of Blood. By birth and by oath. Which means if I openly defy the Council, I will lose more than either of you.”
“That’s… dramatic,” Tamsin mutters.
“It’s also true,” Auron snaps. “If they suspect I’m interfering, they’ll call me back home. And I won’t be able to protect her at all.”
I blink. “So you want us to do the interfering.”
Auron’s expression doesn’t shift. “You’re not bound to legacy oaths. You don’t have eyes watching your every move. I do. You two are nobody’s.”
“That is both insulting and weirdly flattering,” Tamsin says, then frowns. “Wait, you want us to start a riot?”
“Not a riot,” he says. “A movement. One that makes it politically dangerous for the Council to touch her.”
I stare at him. “You want us to sway public opinion?”
“Student opinion,” he clarifies. “You can stir things up without it being traced back to power plays. I can’t. If I make a move, it becomes a political statement. If you do it, it’s just students being students.”
Tamsin snorts. “Wow. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“You said you wanted to protect her,” Auron replies evenly. “This is how you do it. Make noise. Make the Council hesitate. Force them to think twice.”
I glance at Tamsin. Her foot has stopped tapping, her smile gone thoughtful.
“And you think that’ll actually work?” I ask slowly. “If we get enough students to back her—talk about what really happened, make them question the Council’s version…”
“I think it’s the only chance you’ve got,” Auron says.
“And what do you get out of it?” Tamsin asks, arms folded. “Besides staying conveniently unpunished.”
Auron doesn’t blink. “I get to keep breathing. And so does she.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. It's not enough. Not for me. But I can tell we’re not going to get more than that. And honestly… he might not even be lying.
“We’ll need the right people,” I say, already thinking through names. “House reps. Aether and Astral majors. People with influence. If we stir this up wrong, it backfires. They’ll double down.”
Tamsin grins, already energized. “Ohhh, I love a good secret rebellion. Like an underground newsletter but with more fire.”
Auron just gives us both a look like he’s already regretting this.
“Good,” he mutters. “Then get to work. We don’t have long.”
He turns to go.
“Wait,” I say, before I can stop myself. “Does she… does Lindsay know? About this?”
“No,” Auron says without turning around. “And she can’t. Not yet.”
Then he disappears between the shelves, as silent and swift as a shadow.
Tamsin exhales and leans back with a groan. “Well. Guess we’re starting a magical political coup before dinner.”
I sit across from her, heart racing. “We’re going to save her.
” The mark on my palm itches, and when I glance down, it’s glowing.
I curl my fingers around it and put my hand beneath the table.
Tamsin might know I’m tethered to Lindsay because she was there when Professor Marris came to me about it last night, but I’m not ready to share that part of myself with her, even if she is a friend.
Tamsin gives me a look. “You say that like it’s a promise.”
“It is.”