Chapter 25
Talia
The others knew.
The Fifth Wing made certain of it.
I woke with Torren’s arm around my waist and four colors still moving through the crystal bedframe. The curtains had become transparent during the night. Nothing separated us from the shared sleeping chamber except a blanket and the fact that the other three men were pretending not to look.
Rafe pretended badly.
“Good morning,” he said from his bed.
I pulled the blanket higher.
Torren opened one eye. “Don’t.”
“I was greeting Talia.”
“You were waiting for her to wake.”
“That too.”
Sebastian sat on the edge of his bed with an open book in his hands. He had not turned a page since I opened my eyes.
Leander’s blue curtains remained closed.
I disentangled myself from Torren and reached for my robe.
He caught my hand. “Shoulder?”
“Fine.”
“Scale?”
I checked my wrist.
The transparent scale remained visible, but no light moved beneath my skin.
“Fine.”
“Regret?”
Rafe sat up.
I looked directly at Torren.
“No.”
His hand released mine.
The bedframe brightened.
Rafe watched the colors move through it. “That answered several questions.”
“None of yours,” I said.
“Most of mine.”
Sebastian finally turned a page.
I looked at him. “Bastian.”
His gaze lifted.
“Has the headmaster responded to the evidence?”
“He ordered us to bring the originals to his office after breakfast. He will examine them with Malcolm present before deciding whether to open a formal inquiry.”
“Did he name any suspects?”
“The delivery signature remains unreadable.”
“And Malcolm?”
“Still overseeing the Trials.”
Torren sat up behind me. “Why?”
“Because the Keeper can be removed only by the crown or by unanimous vote of the seven territorial councils.”
Rafe dropped back onto his pillow. “Convenient.”
“Until the meeting, Malcolm retains his authority,” Sebastian continued. “The headmaster can restrict access to specific chambers while evidence is reviewed, but he cannot remove a Keeper unilaterally.”
“He can still control the Trials,” Torren said.
“By law.”
The blue curtains opened.
Leander stepped out fully dressed.
Of course he did.
He glanced at the crystal bed, then at Torren’s bare chest. His expression gave away nothing.
“The law also prevents him from delaying the final Trial indefinitely,” he said.
I tied my robe. “Final?”
“The council review concluded while you slept. Since the First Trial produced no winner and the demonstration was not sanctioned as a Trial, the academy intends to proceed to a determining challenge.”
“Already?”
“The current king’s strength is declining faster than expected.”
That information had not appeared in any public report.
“When?” I asked.
“The date will be announced after the Trial site passes inspection.”
Torren left the bed. “And Talia’s status?”
“Still subject to challenge.”
“Your family again?” Rafe asked.
Leander looked at him. “All seven territories possess the right to challenge an heir.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“The North has not withdrawn its petition.”
I stood.
Leander’s attention moved to me.
“I need to speak with you privately.”
The wall runes turned white.
Rafe laughed. “They really do dislike your conversations.”
“About what?” I asked.
“The legal challenge.”
“I think we’ve established your position.”
“My position is why you remain an heir.”
“Your family’s position is why I was on that platform.”
Torren came to stand beside me.
Leander looked at him, then at the rumpled blankets behind us.
Something cold entered his expression.
It disappeared too quickly for me to name.
“Knowing what the council can ask and what you are required to answer may determine whether their challenge succeeds,” he said.
I wanted to refuse.
I also knew nothing about succession law beyond the records kept in the Hall. Those accounts described results, not procedures. Leander had studied crown law since childhood.
Being angry with him did not make ignorance safer.
Listening to him for one morning would not erase what he had done. It would keep his family from using my ignorance against me a second time.
“After breakfast,” I said.
The wall runes softened.
Rafe looked disappointed.
Leander waited for me in the study.
By the time I entered, he had arranged five legal volumes, three council petitions, and a blank sheet of paper across one desk. A pot of tea stood beside them.
“You prepared.”
“Yes.”
“Did you prepare enough for both of us?”
“I assumed you would bring your own notebook.”
I held it up.
His gaze moved over my gray uniform. I had changed after eating, though the crystal-threaded cuffs still reflected colors from the bedframe.
“Sit,” he said.
“You could ask.”
“Please sit.”
I took the opposite chair.
Leander opened the first volume.
“The Prism’s selection cannot be reversed by council decree.”
“Then what are they challenging?”
“Your qualification to enter the remaining Trials.”
“That sounds like reversing the selection with additional words.”
“It is legally distinct.”
“Of course it is.”
“If the challenge succeeds, you retain the title of heir but cannot compete for the crown.”
“So they recognize me as long as it means nothing.”
His mouth tightened. “Essentially.”
“What evidence do they need?”
“Proof that your participation creates an unreasonable danger to the other heirs, the academy, or the succession.”
“The demonstration endangered me.”
“They may argue your power caused the failed channels to overload.”
“We proved the channels were reversed.”
“We proved someone deliberately substituted them. We haven’t established whether your power would have destabilized a correct system.”
“Because no one tested it.”
“That is their argument.”
I closed my notebook.
“So they can construct a test that tries to kill me, then use the result to claim I’m unsafe.”
“Yes.”
I waited for him to qualify the answer.
He did not.
“At least you’re honest now.”
“I intend to remain so.”
“Even when it damages your own claim?”
“If the truth damages my claim, I shouldn’t hold the crown.”
The answer sounded noble.
I no longer accepted noble answers without examining what supported them.
Leander had already proved that duty could sound honorable while carrying information straight into his family’s hands.
“You’ve wanted the crown your entire life.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Leander leaned back.
“It is not relevant to the challenge.”
“It’s relevant to whether I trust your help.”
He looked toward the sealed cabinets.
“My grand-uncle’s reign prevented three territorial wars.”
“I know the official history.”
“You believe there is another version.”
“Sebastian found altered records. Your father mentioned an unapproved account.”
His attention returned sharply to me. “How do you know that?”
“The walls carry sound.”
“They do not carry conversations from the North Council Chamber.”
“Bastian reads expressions. Rafe learns things people don’t tell him. I ask questions.”
“And which of them told you?”
“None. I guessed.”
The study runes turned gold.
Leander looked annoyed.
“I see why Rafe enjoys that.”
“I don’t.”
“You almost smiled.”
“I did not.”
The gold deepened.
I waited.
Leander gave up pretending the room would support him.
“My grand-uncle did stop three wars,” he said. “One before I was born, two when I was a child. The northern borders remained secure because every territory believed he would answer an attack decisively.”
“And you want to maintain that stability.”
“I was trained to.”
“That isn’t the same as wanting it.”
“It is when training begins before you understand the difference.”
The statement revealed more than he intended.
“What would you want if the Prism hadn’t chosen you?”
“The question is irrelevant.”
“No. It’s inconvenient.”
“I have no answer.”
“Because you never considered it?”
“Because I had no reason to.”
“You built your entire identity around winning a crown the Prism might never offer.”
“My family did.”
“And you let them.”
Ice formed along the rim of his untouched teacup.
“You are not here to examine me,” he said.
“You brought five legal books to examine whether I deserve to remain an heir.”
“I brought them to help you defeat the challenge.”
“Why?”
“Because the challenge is wrong.”
“That’s not enough.”
“It should be.”
“It was enough when you defended me in the Hall. It isn’t enough for me to trust you privately.”
Leander closed the legal volume.
“What do you want me to say?”
“The truth.”
“I have given it.”
“Part of it.”
His control finally broke.
“I am helping you because I cannot stop thinking about you.”
Silence filled the study.
The frost along his teacup spread over the table.
Leander looked at it and drew his power back.
I could have pretended not to understand.
I had seen the way he watched me after Rafe’s flight. I noticed how he avoided the sleeping chamber that morning and how his voice changed when he said Torren’s name.
“You don’t trust me,” I said.
“No.”
“You gave your family information they used against me.”
“Yes.”
“You still believe you should be king.”
“Yes.”
“And you can’t stop thinking about me.”
His jaw tightened. “Those facts are not mutually exclusive.”
“They should be.”
“They would be more convenient if they were.”
The wall runes turned red.
Neither of us looked away.
I thought of Torren’s body over mine and the heat of Rafe’s mouth after the flight. I remembered Shadow hiding the observatory while I called Sebastian by a name no one else used.
I had no reason to feel this pull toward Leander.
But the pull was not the same as trust, and desire was not forgiveness. If he wanted any place beside me, he needed to understand all three.
It remained.
“I slept with Torren,” I said.
“I gathered that.”
“I kissed Rafe.”
“I witnessed it.”
“And Bastian.”
His expression changed. “Bastian.”
“Sebastian.”
“I know.”
“They don’t cancel one another.”
“No.”
“Does that bother you?”
His jealousy did not entitle him to an accounting. Still, I needed to know whether he wanted me as I was—or only a version of me who could belong to him alone.
“Yes.”
The blunt answer surprised me.
He continued before I could respond.
“But my discomfort does not give me ownership over you.”
Something inside me loosened.
“You’re very good at saying the correct thing.”
“I have spent my life learning the correct thing.”
“What do you want to say?”
Leander stood.
I remained seated until he came around the desk.
He stopped close enough that I had to tilt my head back.
“I want to tell you that Rafe is reckless, Sebastian will choose a mystery over sleep and possibly survival, and Torren believes protection solves every problem.”
“None of that sounds entirely wrong.”
“I want to tell you that I am the only one prepared to protect your position when power is not enough.”
“You already failed once.”
The words struck.
He did not retreat from them.
“Yes.”
I rose.
Only a small distance remained between us.
“I haven’t forgiven you.”
“I know.”
“I may not.”
“I know that too.”
The study runes deepened to red.
Leander’s eyes dropped to my mouth.
He lifted one hand but stopped before touching me.
“If I kiss you,” he said, “will you believe I’m trying to purchase forgiveness?”
“I’m not selling it.”
“No.”
His fingers brushed my jaw.
“Tell me to stop.”
I should have.
Instead, I caught the front of his coat and pulled him toward me.
The choice was not forgiveness. It was an answer to the desire I was done pretending I did not feel.
Leander kissed me with all the control he applied to everything else.
For one second.
Then his hand closed behind my neck.
He pushed me back against the desk, and the legal volumes slid beneath my hands. His mouth opened over mine. Cold moved from his fingers into my heated skin, sharp enough to make me gasp.
He kissed deeper.
I gripped his coat, holding him close while anger and desire collided inside me. The wall runes turned red-white, shifting too quickly to settle.
Leander’s other hand found my waist.
I felt how much he wanted me through his trousers.
The physical proof broke through the last of his polished distance.
I moved against him.
He made a rough sound and pulled away.
Both of us were breathing hard.
“That was a mistake,” he said.
Anger returned immediately. “Which part?”
“The timing.”
“Not the kiss?”
“No.”
I released his coat.
Leander stepped back.
Frost covered the desk where his hand had rested. Beneath mine, clear light traveled through the legal text without damaging the pages.
Neither of us commented.
“The challenge hearing is tomorrow,” he said. “The council may ask whether you can reproduce Refraction without forced exposure.”
“Refraction?”
“Sebastian’s report used the term.”
“Bastian’s report.”
His expression tightened.
I opened my notebook.
“Sit down, Leander.”
He looked at me.
“We still have five books.”
The wall runes turned gold.
He returned to his chair.