Chapter Eleven
The dorm’s dark, lit by a thin wash of moonlight slipping through the narrow window. Across from me, Ezzy’s out cold—one hand tucked under her chin, breath slow and even. She came in about an hour after I did. I kept still, pretended to sleep, and waited for her, for the Citadel, to do the same.
Now that she has, I should get moving.
My pack’s waiting by the door. Mum’s journal tucked safe inside, along with Ezzy’s blade.
I didn’t want it on me, better Brian thinks I’m harmless.
Easier that way. But instead, I’m still lying here, staring at the ceiling like it has answers while the pressure under my ribs keeps climbing.
I’ve counted the same four cracks in the stone ten times, but I keep going, because the moment I stop, I’ll have to move.
And I’m not ready.
My palms are already damp, there's a twitch in my leg I can’t shake. I tell myself to breathe slower, to focus, but all I can think about is the tunnels. What’s waiting down there. If there’s even a way out.
I don’t know what I’ll find... or if I’ll make it back.
But that doesn’t change the plan. One shot, get out, get back to Bren, and try not to die doing it.
“No,” Ezzy stirs, fingers twitching under the blanket. My breath catches, shit, she's waking up. “No… Truth Strings can only be given freely…”
Sleep talking.
She’s just sleep talking.
But I hold still, lungs locked tight, just in case. If she wakes now, if she sees me, what the hell would I even say?
Maybe she’d try and convince me to stay, hide out here till I thought of a new plan? Maybe I should? But I’ve already gone over every angle, and there’s nothing left. This is it.
I slip out from under the covers, the ache in my chest sharp as I move, arm pulsing in protest, but I keep quiet, keep steady, and cross the room slow, careful not to wake her.
At the door, I pause, one breath held, one last glance over my shoulder. Then I slip out.
The latch clicks shut behind me, a sound too loud in the hush. For a moment, I just stand there, pulse loud in my ears, letting the cold of the corridor settle into my skin. Then I start walking, one foot, then the next.
A light flickers in the distance. Instinct kicks me back against the wall, breath snagging tight—but it’s only a lantern swaying on its hook. I let the moment ease out of me and move again, steady pace, steady pulse. Just get to Brian. Unseen, unheard
Still, a shiver slips down my spine, and not just from the cold, because something’s off.
I expected footsteps, officers on rotation.
Something, anything. But there’s nothing.
No patrols. No guards. Just the sound of my own breathing, too loud in the quiet.
The soft scuff of my boots on stone, no matter how carefully I move.
I slow my steps. Try to make less noise. But the silence clings, thick and unnatural. The Citadel doesn’t feel like a fortress at night; it feels like a fucking tomb.
I guess it makes sense, why would they need guards patrolling at night?
No one apparently wants to get out. Not really.
Even if they could, I doubt anyone would try.
.. The students here? They're not locked in by chains; they're held by belief.
I saw it in their eyes. The way they looked at that guru in white during the Initiation Brief, like he was some kind of god.
Vaelric Serrane, Sovereign Minister of the fucking Citadel. He doesn’t rule with fear, he doesn’t have to. It’s not discipline, it’s devotion. This place isn’t a school, it’s a shrine. A gilded cage built in stone.
The air grows heavier, colder the deeper I go.
Moving faster now, hugging the shadows, keeping close to the walls, careful not to trip over my own damn feet as I slip down the main stairwell and past the lecture theatre from earlier.
I don’t look at it. Don’t need the memory playing back.
Another shiver cuts down my spine, too many ways that could’ve gone worse.
Somewhere in front of me, a door creaks.
I freeze, breath lodged in my throat. Then, soft paws, a flick of a black tail.
Just a cat. Just a bloody cat. Shaking it off, I drop my shoulders, exhale, and keep moving.
Past the Rec Hall, down another flight, until my steps slow near the end—three corridors converging at a narrow junction, the east tunnel dead ahead.
I hang back, peering around the corner, careful to stay out of sight.
One figure steps into view. Tall, lanky, all elbows and awkward energy. Brian. Perfect. I edge a little closer, then stop. Another shape moves behind him. Broader. Stronger.
Tension locks through me, the rhythm in my chest faltering before slamming harder. Shit.
Had there always been two guards here? I can’t remember. I should have paid more attention when Ezzy showed me around—but I’d just been arrested, silenced, handed my mother’s journals, and told someone wanted me dead. So yeah, maybe I missed a detail or two...
My gaze flicks across the junction, searching fast. Options. Angles.
Could I take him down? One clean strike, maybe. But I’d have to get close. And he’s solid, thick-necked, squared shoulders. Not the kind that drops easy. Not without magic, and that’s a whole different kind of mess.
Breath snags, fingers twitch at my side. I’m so focused on calculating the impossible that I miss it. The quiet shift of weight, the slip of fabric. My pack slides from my shoulder and hits the floor with a soft, traitorous thud.
The second guard snaps his head toward the sound—
But before I can bolt, a hand clamps over my mouth, another hooks my shoulder, and I’m yanked backward into the dark.
“What are you doing?” Ezzy hisses.
Fuck, what is she doing here? What the hell am I supposed to say—Just casually manipulating your friend so I can sneak through a tunnel and break out of this sanctified prison?
“You were really going to try and convince Brian to let you out?” She asks.
Right. Of course she already knows. I forgot how annoyingly smart she is. No point lying now. Not like I’ve got some better excuse tucked in my back pocket.
“Would you really blame me?” I hiss back. “After today? After all of it?”
I brace for the expected, some wide-eyed defence of the Citadel. Denial, loyalty, something. But she just stares at me. One long second. Head tilted. Then—
“No. I wouldn’t.”
I blink. “Wait, what... you’re not here to stop me?”
“I thought about it…” She says, voice low, eyes not quite meeting mine.
“When I heard the door close, I froze. Told myself I had thirty seconds to decide. Whether to call out. Or report you.” Her posture stiffens.
“I ran the protocols in my head. Thought about what they’d expect me to do.
What I’ve been trained to do. But then I pictured my little sister and although I wouldn’t want her to run.
I’d want her to trust the system. To stay, follow the rules.
To rise through it the right way...” The sentence trails, unfinished.
Something flickers in her expression, then softens.
“But I also wouldn’t want her to be alone.
So I made the decision not to report you.
” She swallows, gaze flicking toward the tunnel. “Just this once.”
God. She really means it. Still loyal, still bought into every polished lie they fed her since birth, but she made a choice. Her first one, maybe. And she chose me?
“So why come down here?” I ask, eyes narrow, not buying it. Not yet. “Why follow me if you’re not going to stop me?”
Ezzy shifts beside me, glancing down the corridor again, then sighs and turns back. “Because you let me in,” she says. “After the fight with Ryven, you didn’t hold back. You talked about your mom. About Bren. Needing help. Rhiann. Getting caught by Merrin. The deal.”
“So?”
She shrugs. “No one ever does that. Not with me, not really, especially not another girl. If this is what you need… then yeah, as a friend, I want to help. I want you safe.”
“But… the Citadel, Merrin, this is risky, Ezzy.”
She grins faintly. “Old Citadel blood, remember? I’ve got ties. No one questions me slipping in and out down here, even this late. Family visits, you know?”
Something tightens in my spine. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this.
This was the part where dropping my walls is supposed to backfire.
Where someone takes what you gave them and turns it into a weapon.
That’s why I hold back. Always have. Even with Bren, who’s never done anything but stay, I still keep the sharpest pieces of me to myself.
Because experience taught me trust doesn’t last, it just gives people better aim.
I thought Ezzy would fold. Or flinch. Or use it against me. But she hasn’t. Something twists hard in my chest, because I’ve been using her since I arrived. Smiling at the right moments, asking the right questions, keeping her close enough to be useful.
I told myself it was strategy, necessary. But the truth is... if I’d just treated her like this from the start—if I’d actually tried to be her friend—she might have helped me escape earlier and I could have avoided the guilt currently clawing its way up my throat.
I don’t deserve this type of... connection. But I want it. Maybe more than I should.
“I have an idea that may help…” Ezzy whispers, then hesitates. “But if you're not sure, if you're scared, we can still turn back. I’ll say I found you sleep walking. No one has to know.”
Her voice is soft, but there's something behind it, an edge of fear. Not for herself, I realise. For me.
“You don’t have to do this,” she adds, even quieter. “I just… I want you safe. That’s all.”
I stare at her, throat tight. My body wants to nod. To scream yes. It would be so easy, so simple, to let her cover for me, to pretend this never happened.
But I know how this ends if I stay.
Talen’s already circling, just waiting for an excuse. And maybe there’s nothing in the tunnels but darkness and death, but I have to try.