Chapter Seven
Home. For one impossibly soft breath, I believe it. The pillow is sun-warm beneath my cheek, heated by the single strand of light spilling through the narrow window beside me. The blanket against my palm is rough, the same coarse weave as Bren’s back home.
By habit, my hand glides across the mattress, reaching for the familiar rise and fall of his chest, but bumps into something smaller, softer…
My eyes snap open. Grey stone ceiling, large wooden door. And Ezzy, bright as dawn, perched on my mattress, swinging her legs back and forth.
“Morning!” she sings, as if she hasn’t just shattered the last good dream I had left. “Ready for your first day?”
She’s already in uniform—buttoned tight, sleeves rolled and her short white-blonde hair neatly pinned back with her sparkly pin.
For a second I forget what I’m doing here, but then somewhere down the hall, a door slams and suddenly the weight of yesterday presses down on my chest like a boulder.
Fuck. Right, the deal. Stay or be Reassigned. One month, no screw ups, no stumbles, no scenes. Don’t get killed by Talen and get out alive, with the journals.
The journal.
My lungs pull tight beneath my chest, and a familiar itch sparks beneath my skin as my eyes scan the bed, fast. It’s not in my arms. Not under the pillow. Shit. I scramble, patting the sheets and tossing the blanket back.
Ezzy’s hands fly up. “Oh! Don’t worry. It’s on your desk. You fell asleep holding it, and I didn’t want it to get wrinkled or, you know…”
She reaches over for it—
“No. Leave it.” The words come out harsher than I mean. Whatever Merrin did yesterday to my Threads is wearing thin. The pressure’s been building all night.
Ezzy freezes, hands in the air. “Oh, okay…”
I let out a breath, slow, and force myself to unclench my fists. “Sorry, it’s just… personal.”
Her smile wobbles but stays. “Of course. Totally, I get it.” She tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and bounces a little to cover the awkwardness, then places a towel into my lap. “You might want to freshen up. We’ve only got an hour before lectures and Demonstrations begin.”
For a second, I hesitate, jaw tight as I rub the back of my neck. My magic’s already stirring and I don’t know what the hell I’m walking into today.
Ezzy notices and leans in a little closer. “Don’t worry about Talen, okay? He’s, like, always off on some big assignment or whatever. Honestly, you’ll probably hardly see him around.” A wide grin spreads across her face. “You’re going to be great today. Totally great.”
Her naive confidence and optimism? Yeah, it rolls right off me. Talen’s out for blood, and sooner or later, he’ll find a way to sink his teeth in, trap me in those beautiful fucking petals of his.
I could just stay here? Keep my head down, hide out in the room, hold my magic down?
Would anyone even notice? Slip under the radar, out of his way until I figure out how the hell this place, how he, really works.
But I made a deal. It doesn’t matter how much Merrin twisted my hand; I’m the one who signed.
A long sigh slips out as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and stand. The floor is cold beneath my feet, probably not half as cold as whatever’s waiting outside this room…
But I can do this. I do stuff like this, and I’ll do it my way: eyes open, no mistakes, no scenes. One month. Just one month.
“Right, which way to the washing chamber?”
The walk to the first lecture feels longer than it should. I know Ezzy showed me around yesterday, but honestly, I barely remember it.
She walks one step ahead, white-blonde hair catching the morning light as we head along the central corridor that circles the open-air courtyard below. Babbling on about the schedule and how lucky we are to have Professor Marovian for our first lecture on Thread Ethics and something alignment.
It’s boring as hell, but I don’t stop her, I let her talk, too busy wrestling my bloody magic back down.
It’s back, faint, but twitching under my skin like a splinter I can’t dig out. Usually I let it burn off by now, find somewhere quiet and let it loose.
But here, this place, where the fuck can I do that?
I’m already a walking target. If anyone sees how out of control I am, I’ll be dead before sundown.
Still, at some point, I’m going to have to let it out.
It’s only a matter of time before it builds too high, spills over, and then.
.. Well, shit, I don’t even finish the thought.
Just tug the collar of the uniform higher, like that’ll hold it down.
A chill slides down my spine as the fabric shifts, it fits too easily, too well.
Every seam feels like it’s trying to shape me into them, press me into their rules.
“Morning,” Ezzy smiles at someone as we pass more and more cadets in identical black uniforms. The flow thickens as we descend the main stairwell, knots of quiet conversation, their voices low and controlled.
A few eyes flick toward me as we turn and take a side corridor, but none linger. Still, my hand hovers near the dagger Ezzy gave me—just in case. It shouldn’t comfort me, not when people like Talen can strip it away without blinking. But somehow, it does.
Anyway, today, I’m not looking to make a scene. I’m just looking to make it through the lectures without anyone else trying to kill me. Plus, if I can get Ezzy, and her friends, to like me just enough to keep me around? Even better.
“There, Rowan, Finn!” Ezzy calls as we step through large open doors into a wide lecture theatre.
Cool air hits my face, edged with the smell of old wood and ink. Tiered benches climb in neat rows, all angled toward a single iron lectern on a raised platform at the front. Behind us, more cadets file in, voices low, boots echoing on stone as they spread out to find seats.
I follow Ezzy’s gaze to a bench three rows up, left side. Finn’s sprawled across half the space like he owns it, and beside him, Rowan. Nose buried in a book, completely unbothered.
“Come on, we’ll sit with them!” She grabs my wrist, tugging me forward.
I hesitate for a second, then remind myself—the promise, the plan, and that in places like this, you don’t survive by sitting alone. So I lock my jaw and go.
But as we reach the bench, I still clock the layout: Rowan, Finn, two empty seats. I hang back half a breath, just enough for Ezzy to slide into the inner spot without thinking. The aisle seat’s mine. Nearest the exit. Just in case.
A jarring snap echoes through the air just as I drop into my seat. I glance over, Finn’s leaning across Ezzy, cracking his knuckles, eyes locked on me.
“Didn’t think you’d survive the night, Outerlander.” He jokes, loud enough to turn a few heads, a cheeky grin across his face. Ezzy lifts a brow and gives him a look that says really?
A tight, twisting dread curls through me. Great, just what I need, more eyes on me. Heat crawls up the back of my neck, as my Threads flickers hotter beneath my skin, hungry. But I force a breath in, steady myself, and push them back down.
“Disappointed?” I reply, keeping my voice steady.
He lets out a soft laugh, picking up on my sarcasm, like he’s pleased I gave it back to him. “Mildly. Just would’ve won a bet.”
Beside him, Rowan doesn't join in the banter; he stays quiet, eyes on his book, but every so often I catch him glancing my way. It’s not judging, not unfriendly, just... watching.
Then Finn leans forward, blocking the view between us, drumming his fingers on the edge of the desk in front of him, the rhythm quick and light, like he can’t quite sit still. “So, I can still sleep through this, right?”
Ezzy gasps, eyes wide. “Professor Marovian helped reforge the Codex.”
“Exactly,” he replies.
She shakes her head, but there’s a warmth beneath it she probably doesn’t even notice. “You might not want to be here, but you still need to pass the year. Or are you hoping your parents will bail you out of trouble again?”
Finn’s grin slips as he slouches down into his seat, muttering something under his breath.
Ezzy just rolls her eyes, a flicker of a smile breaking through before she dives into her pack, pulling out books and pens and lining them up with military precision in front of her.
Then she glances my way, and spots that I’m empty-handed.
“Here.” She holds out a spare notebook and a black quill, offering both with a hopeful smile. “Just until you get your supply issue sorted...”
I freeze. Not because I’m not grateful. But because I don’t want to take any more handouts than I need, not unless it’s another blade that could kill someone.
.. I know she means well, but still, where I’m from, favours come with hooks.
And no one gives anything without wanting something back, now or later.
I shake my head and decline her offer.
“You sure? Marovian talks fast—”
“I’ll just listen.”
She blinks, a little taken aback, but covers it quickly with a small nod. “Okay. Yeah. Of course.”
I don’t owe her anything, but pushing her away now would be stupid. She’s useful, connected, and eager to please. So I force a smile and say thanks, then quickly turn forward before she can offer anything else.
“Silence is the first step to survival.” A voice down in front booms. “If you can’t manage that, leave now.”
The lecture theatre door slams shut and a tall professor strides in, robes trailing in his wake—deep blue, trimmed in silver, the embroidery catching the light with every step.
No one moves as he reaches the platform and sets a massive book down on the iron lectern. It lands with a thud that echoes off stone, weighty and final.
“Welcome to Thread Ethics and Treaty Alignment,” he bellows. “I am Professor Marovian, and for the next few hours, you’ll be reminded why your ancestors bled, and why you’re still here to benefit from their obedience.”
My eyes roll. Great. This is going to be fun.