Chapter 12
TWELVE
NOLAN
The walls of the lower archives don’t echo, but I can still hear the old magic buzzing inside the old books down here. I’ve always been able to hear magic. Probably one of the talents that got me my scholarship in the first place.
Tamsin lounges upside down on a velvet reading chair, legs dangling over the backrest like a question mark, while I pace the small room we are waiting in. I think I’ve carved a visible path in the floor.
It’s been three hours since Auron dropped his little political grenade and left us to figure out how to start a movement without setting the whole school on fire. And the worst part? He’s right.
We can get away with more than he can. Because no one’s watching us.
No one expects us to matter. Not when we’re treated like token students. We are just expected to fall in line and do everything we can to stay in their good graces.
“I’m just saying,” Tamsin muses, twirling a quill between her fingers, “if we do start a riot—sorry, ‘movement’—can I be in charge of the rallying chants? I have slogans. Some of them rhyme. It would be fire.”
“We’re not setting things on fire,” I mutter.
“Not yet,” she sings.
I rub the heel of my hand against my temple. There’s too much static in my head and not enough information.
Lindsay’s locked away in a warded chamber because they think she’s dangerous. No—because they need her to be dangerous to justify what they’ve already decided to do. Professor Marris is the only one even attempting to help her, and even she’s walking a blade-thin line.
And Raiden…I know he has visited her, and the last time, there are whispers that he stayed with her.
The thought should sting. It doesn’t. Not really. He’s part of her bond. I get it. I’ve seen what that connection does to people. But that doesn’t mean I trust him to hold the line if the Council pushes.
Which means I need a strategy. Because if I can’t get inside that chamber, then I’ll damn well make enough noise out here to shake the walls.
A flicker of movement at the end of the row makes both of us look up. Auron.
He moves out of the shadows and into our ring of light. He doesn’t sit. Doesn’t offer a greeting. Just studies us like we’re pieces on a board he’s still deciding whether to use or sacrifice.
“You’re late,” I say. He’s not really, his presence just makes me bristle.
He quirks a brow. “I wasn’t aware this was a formal meeting.”
“Everything’s formal when the Council might decide to bind someone’s magic,” Tamsin says brightly. “Or maybe trying to erase someone completely.”
Auron’s gaze flicks to her. “They wouldn’t waste the energy erasing anyone, that takes old blood magic. It’s clear your intelligence isn’t what brought you to this school.”
“Aw. Flattery.”
I step between them before the sarcasm spirals. “What information do you have?”
He reaches into his coat, pulls out a thin sheet of parchment, and sets it on the table between us. “Tomorrow’s Council schedule. Your friend isn’t on it.”
My stomach sinks.
“But two hours have been blocked out under a coded event,” he adds. “Location: Chamber of Compliance. You do the math.”
Tamsin swears under her breath.
“Then we’re almost out of time,” I say.
Auron nods once. “I can’t delay them. And I can’t be seen defending her again. My father already suspects I’ve gone soft.”
“Right,” Tamsin says. “Because having a personality or a heart is a punishable offense in your family.”
Auron ignores her. “But if a student movement—completely unrelated to me, of course—were to spark enough attention and unrest, the Council might delay. They won’t act under scrutiny.”
I study him. “Why do you even care?”
Something flickers behind his eyes. Not warmth, not remorse. But maybe something closer to regret.
“She’s been treated like a threat since the day she arrived,” he says, low. “I know what that’s like.”
Tamsin falters, just for a second. And I almost do too—because I want to believe that this is about more than political advantage or inherited loyalty. But then I remember who he is.
“You’ve seen her?” I ask quietly.
There’s the smallest pause. Too small for most to notice. But I do.
“I’ve seen enough,” Auron says smoothly. “More than either of you.”
Tamsin’s hand curls against the tabletop. My stomach tightens.
Because I haven’t seen her. The Council rejected every request I’ve made. And Tamsin? Half-witch, half-fae, entirely unwanted in their world.
He doesn’t say he’s spoken to Lindsay. He doesn’t say when or where or how. And that pause was just long enough to be a lie wrapped in a truth.
“Didn’t think so,” he adds dryly, before either of us can respond. “So if we’re done getting sentimental, maybe we focus on the part where we stop them from destroying her.”
I grit my teeth and press my palms to the table, grounding myself in what matters. I can be suspicious later. Right now, we need momentum.
“We’ve already started,” I say, lifting my gaze to meet his. “The Council just doesn’t know it yet.”
Auron arches a brow. “Do tell.”
“Tell your library girl to check the spell-thread counts on public message boards. The numbers are spiking. Every time someone asks about Lindsay, there’s five more who remember what she did—how she protected the school.
There’s already whispers about unfair imprisonment, rumors about the Council binding students without consent.
” I let that hang. “All seeded and intentional.”
Tamsin kicks her boots up on the table and grins. “You’d be amazed what bored students with a sense of injustice and zero sleep can accomplish.”
“Especially when one of them is a fae-witch with charm magic and a chronic need to prove everyone wrong,” I add dryly.
She salutes me with two fingers. “Guilty.”
Auron nods, slowly. “Good. The more pressure, the better. We need this to look spontaneous. Organic. If the Council thinks it's orchestrated, they’ll crack down hard.”
“I know,” I say. “That’s why we’ve been using magical proxies. Letting other voices carry it. Upper-years with connections. The four houses. I’m staying in the background.”
“You’re the one who got them to care, Nolan.” Tamsin’s voice softens a fraction. “Don’t forget that.”
I glance away, uneasy with the praise, but I feel it all the same—lodging somewhere under my ribs and making my heart squeeze.
Auron’s gaze lingers on me for a beat too long, unreadable.
“What?” I ask.
He blinks once, slow. “Just surprised.”
“Why?” I fold my arms. “Because I’m not wearing a House ring or a Bloodborn Warlock?”
“Because most people in your position would’ve chosen survival over defiance.” His voice is flat, but something like curiosity cuts beneath it. “You’re putting a target on your back. For a girl.”
“I’ll protect her until my last breath,” I mutter.
“Careful,” Auron says, looking between us. “If this works, and you’re found out, the balance of power shifts. That will make you a threat. Not just to the Council—but to the ones watching behind them.”
I narrow my eyes. “You mean your father.”
Auron’s face hardens. “I mean the Circle of Blood.”
Tamsin snorts. “And what’s keeping you from telling them everything once she’s safe?”
He shrugs. “Nothing. But that’s a chance you’ll have to take.”
He’s right. We could be walking straight into a trap he’s set to get rid of us both. But Lindsay is worth it.
I press my lips together and inhale through my nose. “If you betray us, we will make you pay.” The words come out calm and clearly a threat. Apparently I am really brave or really stupid. I will choose to believe I’m the first until proven wrong.
Auron meets my gaze head on, his icy blue eyes drilling into mine, but I don’t blink away or back down. The corner of his mouth lifts, and he gives me a brief nod.
“Well,” he drawls, voice full of wry amusement, “looks like the scholarship boy finally grew a spine. Try not to lose it the second things get hard.”
Tamsin rolls her eyes. “Do you ever not sound like you’re about to curse someone?”
“I wouldn’t need to speak to curse you, since you are already cursed…isn’t that right half-blood?”
Tamsin mutters something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like Bite me, but Auron’s already moving toward the door.
Before he opens it, he glances back. “The first spark is set. You’ll know it’s working when the Council starts denying things no one’s asked about yet.”
That sends a jolt through me. He’s right. We already saw it this morning—two announcements about “routine containment procedures” and “unfounded rumors” on the student network. No one believed them. Which was the point.
Auron continues, voice dryly, “They’re watching for someone to blame. Don’t make it easy.”
And then he’s gone.
This time, we don’t waste a second standing there. Because if the storm is coming, we’re not running from it. We’re going to direct it.