Chapter Twelve #2
“Why?” I spit, not buying his bullshit. “Why offer me a deal at all? Why not just kill me now, or hand me over to Merrin for Reassignment? That’s what you do, isn’t it?
Obey, serve, and pretend like you’re not the one driving the knife in.
You’re just a cold, soulless Citadel officer, trained to follow orders and not feel a damn thing. ”
For a second, he stills. That ever-present smirk slips, just slightly, but then he shifts, pushing off the wall taking a step towards me.
“Careful with your choice of words, Bloom; you’re more like me than you’d ever want to admit.
I know you. I know what's inside of you... And as for why?” He lets the silence stretch, then shrugs.
“Maybe I’m not as soulless as you think.
” A pause. “Or then again maybe you just got lucky. Either way, don’t mistake it for mercy. ”
Cold hits my back as I stiffen, pressing back against the wall, trying to put space between us—but he just steps in closer, like he’s drawn to the recoil.
Fuck him, I’m nothing like him.
“And I’m just supposed to believe you won’t turn me in? You’ve got nothing to lose and everything to gain. So why the hell would I trust you?”
“Well,” he scoffs, taking another step closer. “You don’t really have a choice, do you? Either you trust me or I show you exactly how skilled my hands are. Right here. Right now.”
My body reacts before my brain can stop it—I push tighter to the wall as a hot ache sparks at the base of my throat.
Fear. Anger, my Threads, my magic. That’s what this is, has to be. But as his eyes lock on to mine something twists low in my gut, a flicker of something darker. It's fleeting but unwelcome.
Fuck, Lyra. He just threatened you, and you’re acting like he invited you into his bed. Teeth clenched, I shove the reaction down. Force my shoulders back. Pull myself together. Ignore his fucking Nightrose tricks and just figure out what the hell is going on.
He’s playing some kind of long, dark game, there’s a catch, there has to be... He’s the reason I planned this escape in the first place, because he wanted me dead.
And now he’s offering me a deal?
I shift under his gaze, itchy beneath the weight of it as it keeps me pinned in place. I want to look away, I almost do, but I won’t let him see me cower. So I force myself to hold it.
None of this makes sense, unless he wants something worse than blood, unless this is him letting me dig my own grave... Still. He’s right. I don’t have a choice, not one that doesn’t end with me gutted and dumped in some waterlogged tunnel.
God, I want to kill him. I want to rip that smug look off his face. But instead, I’m making a deal with a fucking Veirmont.
“Fine.” I force the words out like broken glass. “You have my silence.”
“Your silence,” he echoes, eyes dragging down my body, lazy, unhurried. “Shame. I was just starting to enjoy that sharp tongue of yours.”
“Go to hell.” I spit, and this time I move, shoving both hands hard into his chest, forcing him back.
He chuckles, stepping away with infuriating calm.
“Always a pleasure doing business with you, Bloom, but let’s keep this little truce between us, yeah?
” He turns to walk away. “Now, if you’ll excuse me there’s someone I need to pay a visit to.
And you might want to get those thorns under control.
That magic too… before one of them gets you killed. ”
“Fuck you,” I snap, but it’s useless, too late, just slides right off him as he moves down the tunnel.
“Oh, and don’t even bother trying that escape stunt again,” he calls over his shoulder. “Now that I know you like to wander around at night, I’ll make sure the Wards and Brian are... less forgiving.”
Before I can fire back, he’s gone—swallowed by the dark, leaving only the echo of his voice and something traitorous burning in my chest. Not just fear, not just fury. Something worse.
I came down here hunting escape, but now I’ve handed a knife, made a deal, with the one person I swore I’d run from, swore I’d kill. What the hell just happened?
The door clicks shut behind me, as I slip back into the room, louder than I’d like, but luckily it doesn’t wake Ezzy. She’s curled up, one arm thrown over her face, breathing slow. Asleep.
And thank god, because I do not want to talk right now. I just want to lie down and forget this whole damn day ever happened.
Exhaling slow, I drop my pack with a soft thud, and sink down on to the edge of the bed. The smell of old magic, Wards, lingers on my clothes, but underneath something else slips through, a scent I can’t shake. Him. Talen.
Hands on my head, I drop back—shoulders hitting the hard mattress as I sink down, flat and exhausted against the unforgiving frame.
God, I made a deal with a Veirmont. A Nightrose, a fucking devil in disguise. And I said yes.
But what choice did I have?
It was the only way out.
A creak from the other bed, Ezzy shifts. I roll on to my side, facing the wall, just in case she wakes and sees me.
When I emerged from the tunnel, it was… strange. Brian and Greg were too polite, like they’d been waiting for me. Brian didn’t ask questions, no search, and Greg even offered to walk me back to my room, said Officer Veirmont had requested it.
I declined, didn’t want to unpack whatever game that was, didn’t want to test the edges of that trap. I just wanted to get back to the room. This room. The room I left barely an hour ago, chasing freedom, chasing Bren, chasing something that felt like choice.
Instead, I’m right back where I started. Same room. Same trap.
Only now, I owe him.
I don’t know what game Talen is playing. He had every reason to gut me, but he didn’t. That’s not mercy, that’s just another motive or scheme I just don’t see yet. And until I do, I can’t afford to flinch, but I’ll deal with it tomorrow. I’m done for tonight.
The wool itches as I pull the blanket over me. My eyes are heavy, body wrecked—still, I’m too wired to sleep.
Mum’s journal’s in my pack. Waiting. Just under the flap.
But if I open it now… what am I going to find?
And if I don’t, if I leave it shut, maybe I get to pretend, for one more night, that none of this is real.
That she didn’t serve here, that the version of her I’ve carried all this time wasn’t a lie.
No, I’m not ready for that either. Still, I need something to distract me from my thoughts, so I grab the Citadel Codex of Order from Ezzy’s desk—thick, stiff-spined, and sanctimonious—and flip it open to a random page. Law 9: The Draconic Accordance. Boring. Perfect.
My eyes blur halfway through the first paragraph, and by the third, I’m out, mind spinning as darkness drags me under into a restless sleep.