Chapter Seven #2
Two hours in, and I’ve shifted in my seat at least a dozen times—shoulders tense, fingers tapping more than Finn’s, jaw tight against the itch rising under my skin. The magic won’t settle. It crawls, sparks, presses hard against my ribs no matter how deep I shove it down.
I barely heard a word he said, not that I missed much, except just how deep this propaganda bullshit goes.
Marovian drones on, Threads, treaties, partition.
Beside me, Ezzy’s pen hasn’t stopped, flying across the page like her life depends on it.
Finn’s still slouched low, whittling at a scrap of wood, glancing up now and then like he’s half-listening.
While Rowan just sits in his own world, jotting the occasional note—but every so often, I catch him looking at me.
Another surge builds, hot and rising, and I shift in my seat, trying to shake it off, push the magic down. Ezzy notices, her eyes flick toward me, curious. Then a loud thud cracks through the room as Marovian’s book snaps shut. We both jump.
“That is all for today.” He calls. “But make sure to review your notes and listen carefully to every lecture that follows. In second semester, you’ll be asked to submit a reflective essay on ‘Why I Serve the Citadel.’ There will be no leniency for those who fail to prepare. Consider this your notice.”
With that, he steps down from the platform, robes whispering against the stone, and exits without a glance back.
Finn lets out a low whistle, stretching his legs like he’s been holding tension too long. “Any more of that, and I think my brain will bleed dry.”
“Maybe if you’d actually listened, you’d have something in there worth keeping.” Ezzy huffs, snapping her notebook shut.
“I listened. Just... selectively.”
She shakes her head, and gathers the rest of her things. Rowan rises but keeps out of what’s clearly a familiar routine, and flicks me the faintest, sympathetic look—as if to say, yeah, this is normal, just let them go at it.
But Ezzy catches it, eyes narrowing, before she turns to me. “Come on. Let’s get lunch.”
Finn is on his feet before she’s finished, stepping in close enough to give her a playful nudge with his elbow. “Taking me to lunch to make up for scolding me?”
“In your dreams.” Ezzy tries to look stern, but her cheeks flush, and the corner of her mouth betrays her with the hint of a smile.
Lunch was dry bread, stale at the edges, and broth so thin it barely tasted like meat—better than the rations back home, sure, but nothing like Bren’s mum’s cooking.
For a second, the thought of him tightened in my chest, then my mind drifted to Rhiann. Did she have enough Spice? My brows creased before I could stop them, but I shoved the pain and worry down before it showed any more.
I can’t afford soft edges, not here. Not now I need to focus. Plus my magic was still balancing on a fucking knife edge, one push, and I’d go over.
So, I ate the rest of my lunch in silence, letting Ezzy, Rowan, and Finn’s chatter blur into background noise. Names, places, I caught what I could. But all the while, my heart wouldn’t slow, pulse loud in my ears, waiting for him, Talen, the Nightrose, to show.
Every time someone walked in, a jolt snapped through me. But I kept my head down, tried to glance up without drawing attention. At one point, I spotted his friends—the dark-skinned one who’d whispered to him, and the pale girl with black hair, the one he couldn’t stop watching in the courtyard.
But no sign of him. Not yet.
When it was over, I returned my tray and slipped in behind Ezzy, keeping low as we left, hoping Talen’s friends wouldn’t notice.
“You better not have lost it.” Rowan calls to Finn, his voice echoing down the corridor as we head to the next lecture—Offensive Magic, apparently. “That dragon model cost a fortune.”
Finn doesn’t answer. Just keeps walking, shoulders a little too loose, hands shoved deep in his pockets like they might hide whatever guilt’s written across his face.
It’s just me and the two boys. Ezzy hung back, muttering something about grabbing a book from the library on Toxic Flora and Fauna... I think.
I keep walking, but I make sure to stay half a pace behind them, watching the way they move: easy, confident, sure of themselves, and it’s only now, with Ezzy gone, that the strangeness of it finally sinks in.
They don’t need me. They don’t owe me. So why let me eat with them, walk with them, like I belong?
Ezzy I get—bright eyes, open heart, too naive for her own good.
And she made it pretty clear she’s trying to impress Merrin, said as much herself.
But these two? They’re not stupid. Guys like them don’t offer kindness without wanting something.
And that’s what keeps my guard up. No one’s nice for nothing.
I want to know what they want, without creating any more issues, but I don’t have time to wait and wonder.
So I clear my throat and cut right to it.
“All right, why are you two letting me hang around? Because I’m not buying that it’s just kindness.”
Finn looks over his shoulder, one brow arched, joke ready, but it’s Rowan who answers first.
“I’ve been asking myself the same thing,” he says, glancing back at me, eyes narrowed, a flicker of a smile pulling at his mouth.
“But Ezzy seems to like you. And I trust her. Besides, I’ve got a good read on people.
.. And, well, you’re not what I expected, so I decided to give you the benefit of the doubt. ”
“Yeah, relax, Outerlander.” Finn cuts in.
“You act like we’re about to stab you.” He laughs, but it grates, because that’s exactly what people like him usually do.
Should do. “Any friend of Rowan’s and Ezzy’s is a friend of mine.
And honestly? I didn’t really think about it that hard.
It’s kind of fun having an Outerlander around, would probably piss my parents off. Always a bonus.”
“Good to know I’m useful for something.” I keep my voice light, but the doubt’s still there, coiled tight. Maybe they’re not being entirely honest. But whatever they’re hiding, it doesn’t feel like a threat. So I keep walking.
“Ugh!” Ezzy reappears, tight with frustration as she jogs up beside us, clutching the strap of her satchel. “It’s still checked out. Can you believe that? Who keeps a copy of Toxic Flora and Fauna of the Outerlands for this long? I swear, some people shouldn’t even be allowed in the library.”
Finn rolls his eyes at her, clearly amused. “How tragic.” Though he seems to instantly regret it when Ezzy launches into a rant about library policy—volume, citations, and the sacred order of the reference system.
We round the corner toward the next lecture theatre, big stone doors, cadets queued outside in an organised line.
Beside me, Ezzy and Finn are still going at it—she’s half-laughing, half-defending herself—but I’m not really listening. My skin prickles, gut tight, Threads already stirring. Because I’m watching, watching every face. Every shift of a boot. Certain it’s him. Talen.
Without realising, I drift a few steps from the group, edging down the line, drawn by the need to see, to be sure.
My heart’s hammering in my ears, magic so on edge now that every flicker of movement has me ready to swing or run. But I remind myself this is just another lecture to get through without anyone noticing me.
But as I lean out, trying to get a better view, a skinny cadet with a shaved head and a toothpick tucked in the corner of his mouth, pushes past. His shoulder slams into mine, deliberate and hard enough to knock me off balance.
“Scraplander scum.” He mutters, low and edged as his eyes flick over me like I’m something rotting he stepped in. “My father always said the only good Outerlander is a buried one. Should’ve culled the lot of you after the Treaty was signed.”
There it is, not just disgust, but inherited hate. Words passed down like heirlooms. He doesn’t know me, he only knows what I represent. To people like him, I’m a stain on their perfect world, proof the Citadel doesn’t control everything.
A biting sting blooms as my fists curl, nails biting into my palms. I’m already so tightly wound I nearly snap. I’ve been bottling my Threads all day and now they are angry, impatient.
I shift forward—just enough for him to see it, to feel it—but then I remember. One month. Fuck, no scenes, no enemies. Not if you want to make it out of here.
The cadet smirks, leaning in as I step back. “That’s what I thought. Back down. Like the scum you are.”
Prick.
But he’s not worth it. He’s not worth it. Save it for Talen. Breathe. My expression stays flat, fingers loosening at my sides, but my magic doesn't care, it continues to build behind my ribs, pulsing with each breath. I grit my teeth, hard, swallowing it down.
“Me and the others?” He jerks his chin at two cadets behind him. “We’ll be looking forward to bumping into you again—”
A loud groan echoes down the corridor as the lecture theatre door creaks open.
“Offensive Magic begins. Enter. Now, all of you.” The professor’s voice slices through the air, cutting the blonde cadet off.
And in front of us, the line shifts, cadets straightening, the moment breaks. But he still throws me one last sly smirk before turning away.
"You’ll wish I had hit back,” I mutter under my breath once he’s out of sight. Then I swallow hard again and follow the line inside.
The lecture theatre looks almost identical to this morning, shadowed tiers of benches fan around a raised platform at the front.
A quick scan of the room turns up nothing. No sign of the shaved-head cadet, not that I want round two. Just need to know where my problems are or if any new ones are lingering in the crowd.
One class. Just one. Then I’m done for the day and only twenty-nine left to go. Fuck, I need a proper plan but right now I just need to keep my Threads locked down and avoid any more power-hungry cadets or officers.
No magic. No mess. No attention, because there are enough people in here who’d love to see me fall.
I’m still not sure why more of them haven’t taken their shot already.
Then again, most of them move like the Codex’s been hardwired into their spines, and Merrin made it crystal clear: no combat outside sanctioned Demonstrations.
“Lyra!” Ezzy calls over towards me. “Come meet Professor Quinn.”
She’s already at the front, her hands gesturing at me in quick little circles like she’s trying to smooth the air itself.
God, I don’t want to go. But I do. Because I made a fucking deal to stay here for a month. I remind myself, it was this or the dragons. But with every hour that passes, I start to wonder if the dragons would’ve been easier.
“Professor Quinn teaches Offensive Magic, my favourite class.” Ezzy’s practically bouncing as I step up beside her.
Offensive Magic? I pegged her for a bookworm, not someone who’d choose magical combat for fun. The professor catches my look and lets out a low laugh, his voice easy.
“Don’t underestimate the academic types.” He notes. “The smart ones know how to turn theory into survival, and Ezrelia’s one of my best students.”
Ezzy flushes, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, looking like she wants to disappear and grin at the same time.
Then Quinn turns to me, he’s short, round in the middle, cheeks rosy and a warm smile tucked beneath an untrimmed beard.
Dressed in the same deep-blue robes that seem to be the standard teaching attire around here, but they are more rumpled, like he doesn’t care enough to smooth them out.
“Ah, Cadet Bloom, you must be our Outerlander.” He continues. “I had heard you’d be joining us this semester. Unconventional, yes, but I’m told you’ve got promise.”
I bite back the urge to spit something barbed as his gaze sweeps down, weighing every piece of me. But the less I say the better, just keep my head down, no issues, no fuss.
Behind me a door creaks open, but Quinn continues unfazed.
“We’ll see if that holds true, starting in the second year, you’ve got a lot to catch up on.
But luckily for you, and the rest of the cadets, we’re fortunate this term to have additional support.
A few of our most skilled graduates are assisting with Demonstrations.
In fact,” his gaze flicks toward the door, “one of our very best will be joining us today.” Movement at the edge of my vision, Quinn’s mouth twitches. “Ah. And here he is now.”
Talen steps through the doorway, and his eyes—dark, piercing, too damn focused—find mine like a dragon locking on to prey.
Every muscle locks, hard and fast, and for one awful second, my body misreads the spike in my pulse as something else. Something darker.
“Never cared much for teaching…” Talen mutters as he starts pacing toward me.
The words shouldn’t carry, not across this much space, but somehow they land like a whisper pressed against my ear, intimate and unwelcome, sending a shiver through me before I can stop it.
“...But walking in and finding you standing here, Bloom?”
Another step. His eyes rake over me as the left corner of his mouth curls, not in amusement, but in something darker.
“...Now I’m just picturing all the fun things I could do with a willing student.”
Fuck.
How the hell am I getting out of this one?