Chapter 8
Rynlee’s POV
I couldn’t sleep. My thoughts kept circling back to my outburst with Aiden, replaying it on a relentless loop.
His words echoed in my mind. Use that fucking head of yours and get up that tier.
As much as I hated to admit it, he was right.
My strategy wasn’t working. No jump was high enough. No run fast enough.
I couldn’t brute force my climb up that incline.
I needed another way. What I disliked most was that he’d gotten to me.
Pushed me hard enough to make me snap. But then again, Aiden had always been like that, relentless, sharp, always pushing as if he aimed to see where I’d finally break.
And the fact he thought I chose this path? That still burned.
Sometimes I felt like strangling him.
With a frustrated groan, I rolled onto my side.
Gia lay sprawled across her bed, snoring softly, her braid half undone and tangled in her pillow.
Lucky. She could sleep anywhere, anytime.
For me, sleep hadn’t come easily since mom died.
Night after night, I laid awake while the image of her lifeless body flashed behind my eyes.
It didn’t hit as sharply as it once had.
The edges had dulled over time, but it was still there, waiting for the moment I drifted off to sleep.
My chest tightened, restless and aching. Finally, I gave up. Slipping out of bed well past midnight, I moved carefully across the dorm, mindful not to wake Gia. The space was cloaked in shadows; the only sound was the faint hoot of a night bird outside our window.
I draped my dark green cloak over my shoulders, the hem brushing my calves as I padded over the cold stone floor.
The hall beyond was still, sconces long extinguished.
My breath fogged in the cool air as I cupped my hands and whispered the magelight incantation we’d learned in basic spell casting.
A pale blue orb shimmered to life between my palms, casting soft light against the walls.
The magic buzzed faintly against my skin, soothing, warm, familiar.
I pressed on, weaving through the empty corridors until I slipped outside into the night air.
The world smelled of damp earth and herbs as I passed the garden that curled around the side of the alchemy wing.
The Trifecta was only a few days away, and between the bruises, cracked ribs, and throbbing joints, I needed more pain relief.
I’d already raided the medical ward quite often.
Tonight, I would make my own. Quieter. Cleaner.
Kneeling beside a row of spearmint, I clipped a few sprigs and tucked them into my pouch.
The greenhouse was warm; the glass panes fogged from the heat of the braziers that kept the air comfortable for the plants.
The scents of earth and herbs wrapped around me: fresh mint, sharp rosemary, the faint sweetness of dittany blooming on the far wall.
I drifted between the rows, my magelight hovering above me in a pale glow. My hands moved on instinct, clipping, sorting, storing. It felt good to work. To create something useful in a place where destruction was the rule. I set my pouch on a mossy bench and exhaled, letting the quiet sink in.
For a rare moment, the academy didn’t feel like it was choking me.
Then, footsteps. I froze. The magelight vanished at my whispered command, plunging the greenhouse into shadow.
My pulse spiked as voices drifted through the garden just beyond the glass.
I ducked low, slipping behind a trellis heavy with vines, straining to hear.
“…patrol’s clear on the east wall,” Jasmine’s voice drifted closer, casual but clipped.
“And the greenhouse?” Aiden’s tone reached through the pane.
Low and sharp, commanding, all business.
My stomach knotted. Of course it would be him.
Third years rotated night patrols, keeping watch over the grounds while the rest of us slept.
The door creaked open, shadows stretching long across the stone path as Aiden stepped aside for Jasmine to enter first. My pulse thundered as I pressed deeper into the vines, holding my breath.
Her boots clicked softly against the flagstone, echoing in the hush.
She scanned the rows of herbs, shoulders taut, then finally exhaled.
“Clear,” she murmured, her hand dropping from the hilt of her dagger.
For a moment, silence hung between them, broken only by the distant croak of a night frog.
Then Jasmine’s voice dropped, threaded with unease.
“…I don’t know, Aiden. It doesn’t make sense.
” She stepped closer to him, lingering near the doorway.
“The wards at the Eastern Encampment are failing. I sent word myself—the commander down there says they can’t patch them fast enough, and the Blood Assassins are pressing harder every week.
” My breath caught in my throat. Wards failing? Why hadn’t we been told?
Aiden’s voice answered, tight with frustration.
“You’re right, it doesn’t. When my father got back from Celestaris, I asked him what was discussed.
He told me it was nothing dangerous. Said the High King would deal with it.
” I could picture him raking a hand through his hair, his jaw locking the way it always did when he was trying not to explode.
“But you and I both know that’s bullshit,” he continued.
“Especially if you got word straight from Varek.”
“Exactly,” Jasmine hissed. “If the encampment really falls, it won’t just be a border problem. It’ll bleed across the entire eastern province. And we’ll be sitting ducks here.”
Aiden let out a sharp breath. “I sent word to my informant there too. I’m hoping he can get more details.”
“And?” Jasmine pressed.
“I haven’t heard anything yet.” The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable. “Which I can’t tell if it’s a good thing or a bad thing.” My heart thudded so hard I swore they’d hear it. Informant?
Jasmine’s tone softened, though disbelief still edged her words. “No response? Can we even trust this guy?”
“Believe me, we can,” Aiden replied, voice steady. “I’ve known Derek for a long time. He’s probably trying to figure out what’s happening, that’s why he hasn’t written back.” Derek. The name almost sounded familiar, though I couldn’t quite place it. Jasmine sighed.
“Alright. I trust you. In the meantime, I’ll send word to my mother,” she murmured after a moment. “She still holds a seat on the High Court. Maybe she can cut through the deception.”
“Do it,” Aiden said. “Because if we wait too long…we could lose that position entirely.” Their footsteps shifted, moving toward the garden gate.
I stayed crouched in the dark, heart hammering against my ribs.
None of this had been mentioned in Strategic Decisions. Wards failing. Lies from the High King.
If the Eastern Encampment collapsed, what would stop the Blood Assassins from sweeping through everything in their path?
I waited in silence, counting my breaths, my heartbeat a frantic rhythm in my ears.
When I was sure they were gone, I came out from the vines and summoned the magelight again, the soft blue glow blooming between my hands.
I exhaled slowly and turned back to my ingredients on the workbench, reaching for the jar of clove, when something shifted in the corner of my vision.
A figure emerged from the shadows. Aiden.
His eyes were pitch black, inky and endless, traces of divine power curling in the air around him. My breath caught.
“Well,” I said dryly, trying to slow my heartbeat. “That was creepy.”
His gaze bled back to jade, sharp and unreadable. “What are you doing out of bed, Ruin?” His arms crossed, leather stretching tight over his shoulders. Shadows still clung to him, shifting restlessly as if they didn’t want to let go.
I forced a shrug, though my pulse was skittering under my skin. “Nothing. What are you doing?”
His gaze narrowed, flat as a blade. My sarcasm never amused him; it only cut deeper. “That’s not your concern. I’m your unit leader. You answer to me.”
“Okay, true.” I tilted my chin, refusing to shrink back. “But you’re definitely dodging the question.”
“Really?” He stepped forward, insignia catching the moonlight. The heat of his presence pressed down on me. “Last I checked, I get to dodge. What I want to know is why you are in the greenhouse at one in the morning. Lurking.”
“I wasn’t lurking. You were lurking,” I shot back, folding my arms tight across my chest like that might shield me from the weight of his stare.
His eyes flicked down to the ingredients spread on the stone counter. “What’s that for?”
“A balm,” I replied simply. “For pain relief. My ribs are still wrecked.” For a moment his gaze held mine, cool, unreadable, but I swore I saw something flicker there.
Concern. Annoyance. Both. It steadied me enough to push.
“What were you and Jasmine talking about?” My voice dropped. “Are the wards really failing?”
His jaw ticked. “That’s none of your business, Ruin.”
“So, it’s true,” I whispered before I could stop myself. The tension between us snapped taut. His shoulders squared, his tone a low growl.
“Finish what you came here for. If someone else finds you, it won’t be me dragging you out, and the punishment will be severe.”
My throat went dry, but I managed a muttered, “Alright, alright,” too soft for him to hear.
By the time I looked up, he was gone, swallowed by the shadows as if he’d never been there at all.
And all I was left with was silence, a half-made salve, and the persistent sense that Aiden Dagon was hiding far more than orders or military reports.
He was hiding truths. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to know them.