Chapter Eighteen #2
Talen’s expression shifts as my next thought lands. He keeps his attention fixed on Lucien but he alters his weight, slipping his hands into his pockets as if he’s adjusting something tight.
Fuck. All the things those beautiful hands could do—
“Are you sending me those emotions to torture me?” Talen’s voice comes out strained, curling at my ear—and my thighs lock together before I can stop them. “Or are you suggesting something?”
Heat floods my cheeks and I snap my head down, fixing my focus on the floor, on my boots, the dirt, anything but him.
I didn’t even mean to, I wasn’t even trying—
The Threadfield, how did I forget that? Oh god, it’s like the Rec Hall all over again, when I snapped that pencil and now he knows, not just about the dream—but that I’m fantasising about it.
This time, the blood doesn’t drain from my face, so for the rest of the briefing I keep my head down, too afraid to even risk looking up, my fingers digging into the chair as, between announcements about patrol assignments and evacuation updates, I mentally catalogue all the ways I’m going to bloody kill Reya.
“That is all,” Merrin claps his hands once.
“We will meet again next month, after the Blood Moon Ceremony. Good luck to all those who are entering. Though the ceremony is short it is also unforgiving, and we are forever in debt to your bravery and courage.” His gaze moves over the room, and beside me Neeve’s fingers twist in her braid, tugging at it without realising. “Now, back to your duties.”
Benches and chairs creak as everyone stands at once, pushing toward the exits while conversation erupts around us, loud and fast.
Merrin turns and leaves the tent with Magda, things between them still appear tense and awkward, but my attention drifts to the front, catching flashes of white uniform between the shifting bodies as Talen starts moving this way.
Sound pulls away at the edges, the whole tent thinning until there’s only him, the space between us, and the decision I have to make before he reaches me.
If I bolt, he’ll know I’m avoiding him, and then he’ll start asking why. But still, if I stay here, I’ll have to face him. Explain why I haven't opened the Letter-threader all month. Explain why I was sending him those feelings.
Through the shuffle of the crowd, Talen continues to move, and with every step closer the space around my lungs shrinks, turning my breathing heavier and harder to steady. Then, to my side, I catch Reya slipping out.
Hell, she started this—she can damn well answer for it.
Shoving myself up, I race out of the tent and hurry after her, clinging to it as a pathetic excuse not to stay and face Talen.
My legs move fast, weaving through the crowd until I catch her arm, yanking her around to face me.
“Why the hell would you do that—tell everyone that?” I demand through clenched teeth, dropping her arm as Shanwyn swoops down, landing on her shoulder and flashing her teeth at me. Meanwhile Ahria is nowhere to be seen.
“Stars, I told you already, I needed some sleep,” she shoots back, planting her hands on her hips. “And you’ve been driving me out of my mind. I thought you’d appreciate it.”
“Appreciate it?” The laugh catches halfway up my throat. “You force your way into my dreams, have me thinking—feeling—those things… and then you go and tell everyone, and somehow I’m meant to appreciate it?”
“Hey, keep it down, alright?” Reya glances around before catching my arm, pulling me off to the side and out of the flow of bodies pushing past.
A flash of green cuts across my vision as Ahria suddenly appears, Shanwyn launching from Reya’s shoulder after her, and the both of them shoot after a recruit stupid enough to walk by with a sausage roll in hand.
“Only the riders know about the Dreamweaving,” she continues, keeping her voice low.
“And now you and Neeve. I’d rather it stays that way until we work out what this actually is, and whether it’s worth anything.
” Her grey eyes lock onto mine, narrowing just enough that it feels like she’s looking straight into the memory of last night.
“Fine, okay.” I bite out. Anything to get her gaze off me.
She exhales and eases her grip on my arm, trailing her hand lightly along my skin as it falls away. “So, anyway...” Her mouth curves at the edges. “How was I? I mean, from the sound of that scream, I’d say pretty fucking good. You know, if you ever want to try it out in person…”
I yank my arm back. “Not happening, Reya.”
“I’m just saying,” she shrugs, easy and unfazed, “don’t write it off before you’ve had the real thing.” I roll my eyes, but she just laughs. “Probably for the best. You’re hot, but not my type. Too feisty.”
“I’m too feisty?” I blurt out, stepping back to put some much-needed space between us before my Threads get the better of me.
She ignores the jab and keeps going. “Anyway, good job you found me. I needed to let you know I’ll be away this week so we can’t train. I’ve got to head to—” Cutting herself off, she shakes her head. “I mean, I’ve got to check on a potential camp location.”
“But Blood Moon’s in less than three weeks!”
“We’ll do extra when I get back.”
“No,” I push back. “I'm not being challenged enough as it is!”
“Look, there’s nothing I can do right now, see if you can find another recruit who wants to try and set you on fire.”
The idea lasts all of two seconds. If I’m not making enough progress with Reya, a skilled Citadel cadet who scares the shit out of me, there’s no way an untrained recruit is going to be enough.
Not quite believing what I'm about to say, I force out a heavy breath. “I want to go back to Dave.”
Reya’s brows rise. “Talen will be pissed...”
“Fuck, come on, Reya.” I stand my ground. “After the shit you put me through in front of everyone this morning... you owe me.”
“Hey, I said he would be pissed. I didn't say I care.” Tapping her chin, she looks upwards. “Hmm, well I could do with the extra coins. Okay, I'll make arrangements for this weekend when I'm back.”
“Thank you.” My shoulders drop with relief, though I've no idea why as I’m about to lock myself in a cage again with a massive red living flamethrower.
“I’ll meet you there. Try not to miss me while I’m gone.” Reya throws me another wink and this time I return it with a middle finger. She drops her head back and laughs, then whistles to Shanwyn, who glides after her as she turns and strolls off.
By the time I make it back to the Briefing Tent, it’s mostly empty. Neeve is at the front arguing with Darren, but there’s no sign of Lucien or Talen.
Shit. Although I was trying to avoid him, an ache still spreads behind my sternum when I realise he’s gone.
For the next five days, Magda has all the new recruits, including me, expanding the camp—hauling stone, bracing canvas, piecing together half-rotten driftwood into structures that look one strong gust away from collapsing.
Which means no teaching, and with Lucien stuck at the Citadel and Reya gone too, for the first time in weeks, I finally get a break.
I should be grateful, I should be able to unwind, but I can’t.
Because Blood Moon is only two weeks away, and I don't feel ready. Not to lead. Not to fly. Not to stand in front of real fire without every instinct in me screaming to run.
I need more time, more training, but instead, I'm stuck waiting.
Waiting to find out whether Ahria chooses me, whether Ezzy will ever speak to me again, or whether Talen will finally stop trying.
And god, I hate waiting.
I need something I can actually do. Something I can control.
Even a stupid scrap of it.
By the end of the week, I’m so desperate, I drag Neeve and Ezzy into the Combat Tent just to feel like I’m doing something, anything. I figure maybe if Ezzy hits me hard enough it might help break the tension between us.
It doesn’t.
“Does that happen often?” I ask Neeve as we make our way back to the tent.
It’s still early, but both girls are exhausted from training, and with Reya returning tomorrow, I’m more than happy to turn in early before I have to visit Dave again.
“After people bond... they get new things like Reya's ability to Dreamweave?”
Beside her, Ezzy’s attention lifts for the briefest moment, not much—but it’s the first sign of anything I’ve seen from her, and hope warms painfully in my chest.
“Sometimes,” Neeve replies, twisting her gold nose ring. “But I think bonding merely amplifies certain talents that you already had, because Darren hasn’t shown anything.” She pauses, focus shifting to Ahria who glides ahead. “Well, at least not that I know of.”
Makes sense, Rowan was a Loomreader but he never bonded.
Neeve lifts the tent flap and a flash of green slips past as Ahria darts inside, the three of us following behind her.
With the shorter autumn days, it’s already dark inside, so she crosses to Ezzy’s bed and strikes a match for the lantern.
The flame catches, throwing a warm golden glow over our faces, but when she shakes the match out her elbow clips the box.
It tips off the crates, sending matches scattering across the ground and skittering under my bed.
“Oh, Stars,” she mutters, already on her hands and knees, trying to scoop them back up. Bending down, I join her, but then Neeve suddenly stops and sits upright, pulling something from under my bed with her. “Hey, I found something...”
My whole body locks up.
Shit. The Letter-threader.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” rushing, I lean across to grab it, but Neeve is already on her feet, unwrapping the cloth I kept around it and revealing the gold contraption inside.
Awe floods her eyes as she stares at it. “What is it?” she breathes, turning it slowly in her hands, the metal catching in the lantern light, sending beautiful rays of gold dancing across the tent.
Standing up beside her, I open my mouth but another voice beats me to it.
“It’s a Letter-threader.” Ezzy murmurs from her bed, her gaze just as wide and fixed on the device.
“A what?” Neeve whispers, unable to take her own focus off it.