Chapter 40
Forty
“Literally no one, nor their mother, asked for your opinions,” I growl at Riven, my patience wearing dangerously thin as I slump face down on the desk. He chuckles darkly, gently grabbing my chin and lifting my head back up, our faces inches apart.
“Stop getting so pissed off.”
“I’m not pissed off, this is just my face,” I grumble, waving his hand away.
All I want to do is start searching for the Codex, but Riven is deliberately withholding vital information on its apparent whereabouts until I practice my magic with him first. Given that our time is rapidly running out, ‘pissed off’ doesn’t come close to describing how I’m feeling, but I have to admit he may have a point about me running into danger unprepared.
It’s the sole reason why I’m currently sitting in his office, listening to him prattle on about the nuances of Echofae magic.
We were going to stay in my apartment, until Stryx gave me a horrified look, muttering about ‘explosions’.
I literally lost control one time.
I glare sideways at Quill, currently rapidly scrawling notes on everything Riven says.
“Teacher’s pet,” I mutter, and he bristles indignantly. Though his usual sassiness doesn’t hit me the same way now I know what, or rather who, he actually is.
Riven stands in front of the desk with his arms folded, expression flat and immovable. “You’re not going anywhere until I’m certain you have at least some control of your magic,” he reminds me.
I throw my hands up, rising from my seat. “Riven, we don’t have time for this. They could be using the Codex right now–”
“And you,” he cuts in sharply, “barely understand the magic running through your veins. If you walk into danger like this, you will die. Or worse.”
I glare at him, ready to fight, but he lifts a hand—two fingers raised—and the air around us hums, faint blue light rippling through the air like reflections on water. My breath catches. The pull I always feel between us goes taut, and my magic inside me stirs in response to his.
“Sit,” he orders.
I sit, mostly out of shock and partly because my legs suddenly feel unsteady.
Riven moves behind me, lowering to one knee so we’re level. He takes my hands in his and guides them into the proper shape for me. “You’re pushing too hard,” he murmurs. “Our magic responds to intent, not brute force like the Veyne.”
“I’m not forcing anything,” I snap, residual panic threatening to rise at the mention of the awful magic I’ve been inadvertently channeling. Though to my surprise, Riven’s reaction when I admitted it to him an hour ago hadn’t been one of horror like everyone else, more anger…and a little pity.
He exhales in a long-suffering sigh. “Intent is not the same as flailing blindly and hoping the universe does you a favour.”
I whip my head round to glare at him. “Are you teaching me or insulting me?”
“Both,” he says. “You seem to learn faster that way.”
My mouth drops open in outrage. “Do you get off on seeing me suffer or something?”
He spins my chair roughly until my back is against the desk, and he leans in close, his hands gripping the desk either side of me, caging me in.
He runs his nose along the shell of my ear, his breath hot on my neck.
“I thought I’d enjoy watching you squirm, but then I realised I liked seeing you smile more.
So do as you're told. Or there’ll be consequences. ”
He pulls back slightly so we are at eye level, his gaze heated.
I consider asking whether that’s a threat or a promise, but before I can, he pulls me to my feet and presses one palm lightly against my back, right between my shoulder blades, the other resting gently on my chest. Heat rushes up my spine, unexpected and entirely intoxicating.
“Focus,” he says, his voice lower. “Your magic sits here. Dormant. You have to draw from it, not wrestle it.”
His breath brushes my neck as he leans closer to adjust my posture. I go tense for a whole different reason.
“Lift your chin,” he murmurs.
I do.
“Relax your shoulders.”
I try. He’s so distracting–
“And stop thinking so loudly. I can practically hear your panic.”
“My panic?” I hiss. “Maybe if you taught like a normal person–”
But he circles me, coming to stand directly in front of me until there’s barely an inch separating us. His eyes spark with something both amused and…distracted.
Glad I’m not the only one.
“What?” I demand.
“You’re frustrated,” he says.
“No, really? I wonder why.”
His eyes drink me in slowly, lingering for just a breath too long before returning his gaze to mine. “That’s not the frustration I meant.”
“Oh,” I manage, my magic sputtering inside me like a struck match.
Riven clears his throat, suddenly looking less composed than usual. “Right. Well. We should…continue.”
“Yes,” I say too quickly. “Continue.”
He extends his hand and I take it. The air hums again, charged, electric, dangerously easy to confuse with something else entirely…
“Try again,” he instructs softly.
I lift my hand from his, channeling my magic the way he’s been showing me, a slightly different technique than Amari and Stryx taught me in our brief time in Lunoreth.
This time, it answers immediately, smooth and powerful, rising to my call like a tide responding to the moon.
A flicker of pride warms Riven’s features.
“There,” he murmurs. “See? You’re getting it quicker now.”
I try to hide my smirk, my words coming out breathless. “Maybe your teaching isn’t entirely terrible.”
He leans in, his voice a velvet threat. “Careful. Any more compliments and I might think you enjoy this.”
I swallow. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Silence hangs between us, fragile, thrumming with want.
He’s the one to break it, snapping the moment clean in half as he turns away abruptly. “That’s enough, err…touching, for now,” he says, voice rougher than before. “We shouldn’t get distracted.”
I stare at his back, cheeks flaming, pulse wild.
Too late.
Riven doesn’t give me long to recover. As soon as he turns away, he summons a pulse of silvery blue light to his palm and motions me forward.
“Again,” he says. “You need to understand how your magic moves before you try to shape it.”
I swallow my nerves—and whatever that moment was—and follow him. He circles me again, this time keeping a careful distance, though I can sense the effort it takes him. He lifts his hand and a shimmering barrier forms around me like a dome of frost-kissed glass.
“Break it.”
I blink. “I—what?”
“Break it,” he repeats, sharper. “If you can’t force your way out of an enemy’s hold, you die.”
I scowl and slam my magic forward the way I used to, precise, but with force. The barrier doesn’t so much as flicker. Riven cocks a brow.
“You’re hitting it like a mortal,” he says dryly. “Try again.”
“Maybe if you stopped with the condescending commentary–”
“Then you’d be dead twice over,” he interrupts. “Focus.”
I grit my teeth and try again. And again. By the seventh attempt, sweat beads at my temple, my frustration simmering dangerously close to fury, so I take a deep breath, and that’s when I feel it: the thread of his magic pulling at me, coiling around my own, waiting to be joined—or crushed.
I gather my power carefully this time, and release it with a controlled push, allowing it to merge with the current of Riven’s magic for a second before I wash it away like a tidal wave. The barrier shatters with a sound like cracking ice.
Riven’s expression flickers with surprise, then he beams at me. “Good,” he murmurs. But he doesn’t let me bask in the victory. Not for a second.
He snaps his fingers and a spear of shimmering magic, dark as ink this time, shoots towards me. I yelp and instinctively throw my hands up, expecting pain.
Instead, my own magic bursts outward, forming a shield, a rippling crescent of light that deflects the attack. My heart slams against my ribs as I stare at my hands in shock. Riven lowers his hands, expression unreadable for a breath before he speaks softly.
“Very good.”
I breathe hard, stunned, and more than a little dazed. “I didn’t even think. It just sort of…happened.”
“Exactly,” Riven says. He steps closer, close enough that I feel his presence like gravity. “Magic is instinct. But instinct must be honed. You have the potential to be…extraordinarily dangerous.” His eyes flick to mine, his expression heated. “If you stop fighting yourself, that is.”
I swallow. There’s no arrogance in his tone or smug challenge, only knowledge, certainty, and something strangely gentle beneath it. I never imagined he could teach like this, with patience and genuine investment. I assumed someone like him wouldn’t have the capacity for it.
He shows me how to anchor myself using the pulse of the earth beneath the stone floor, how to gently pull magic instead of wrenching it, how to strike without letting fear drive my hand.
His explanations aren’t flowery or philosophical, instead they’re methodical and frighteningly intelligent.
Every question I ask he answers with clarity, which is a rarity for him.
Every mistake, he corrects with a calm hand at my shoulder or a murmured reminder.
My earlier frustration at him has now completely dissipated, and I begrudgingly admit to myself that maybe he was right to insist we take the time to do this. I watch him as he moves with sheer mastery through each demonstration, and I start to see more of the man beneath the fearsome reputation.
Not just the governor who terrifies half the city.
Not just the killer I originally thought he was.
A strategist, a scholar. A complex, capable mind honed like a blade. Dangerous, yes—but not completely monstrous. There is far more to Riven than the fear he commands. And it’s getting harder to pretend otherwise.
When we finally take a break, my breath ragged and my limbs trembling, I find myself studying him differently. Curiosity tangled with something warm and willing coils low in my stomach, and I find my thoughts repeatedly returning to our kiss in the morgue.
I run a hand through my hair, trying to refocus my wayward thoughts. “We don’t have time to keep circling this. We need to find the Codex; where is it?”
Riven exhales, slow and controlled, like he’s been expecting it. “Alright. It’s likely with a member of the Memonic Council, which means infiltrating the Memosyne.”
I straighten. He wasn’t wrong earlier when he said I wouldn’t like the answer. “Do you know which member stole it from you?”
His jaw ticks once. “No.” His eyes flick away in frustration. “Whoever it was caught me off guard, used dark magic I’ve not seen before. Likely the Veyne.”
I release a deep breath before I step forward and reach for his chin, slowly bringing his gaze back to mine. “Then how many of them are corrupt? How many are involved in this cult?”
Riven’s stare hardens, something glacial drawing over his expression.
“I’m not certain. Could be two. Could be all of them.
The council is rotten at its roots, Octavia.
But unfortunately, I don’t know where the rot starts.
I know the majority of the cult’s members, but those who reside in the council have managed to keep their identities hidden. It’s…frustrating, to say the least.”
I drum my fingers against my arm, thinking fast. “I think I know a way to figure it out.”
His gaze snaps to me instantly. “How?”
I hesitate, anticipating his reaction. “An audience. We request a formal audience with the Council. All of them, together.”
“No.” The word is sharp, almost a snarl. “You will not walk into that den of vipers.”
I cross my arms. “Why not? Isn’t that the whole point–”
“Because they will kill you.” He paces once, jaw clenched.
“They will kill you because you’re close to the answers and because you’re unpredictable, regardless of what the prophecy says.
” He turns to me, voice low and heated. “And because I can’t follow you into that chamber.
You’re not the only one who’s made an enemy of them.
They are clearly on to me. If I set foot in that hall again, they won’t hesitate to kill me too.
I’ll end up putting a bigger target on your back. ”
I glare at him, fists clenched. “I don’t need you to protect me.”
He steps closer, voice dropping into something rougher. “This is not about ego, Octavia. I am telling you what they are capable of.”
“And I’m telling you I don’t need protecting,” I repeat, softer but unyielding. “Not anymore.”
Riven holds my gaze for a long, tense moment.
Then his expression shifts, not anger or dismissal like I expected, but something darker. Something like fear.
“Octavia…”
My name leaves his lips as a warning. Or a plea. But I set my jaw, my decision unwavering. “If the Codex is with one of them, then facing them is unavoidable. You know that.”
He turns away from me, hands braced on the desk, shoulders rigid. “You’re learning fast about your magic, but you still have so much practice to do. We need to think of another way,” he says, voice strained. “If you go in there alone, you won’t walk out alive.”
I step behind him, running my hand along his strained bicep. “I can handle it.”
He doesn’t turn, so I continue, gentler. “I can use my magic now, enough for me to be able to defend myself. And I have you guiding me, even if you can’t be in the room.”
He breathes out, sharp and quiet. “You think that makes it less dangerous?”
“No,” I admit. “But like I said before, we don’t exactly have a choice. Time has run out. We need to end this, before more people die.”
At that, Riven finally turns to look at me, and there’s something resigned and aching in the set of his mouth.
“And I won’t let you be one of them,” he says firmly. “If you face the Council, they’ll know what you’re up to and everything will be set in motion…there would be no turning back. We find another way.”