Chapter Thirteen #2
I still feel ridiculous, a girl and her duck, but ridicule is a small price for control when everything else feels wrong.
Talen’s silence is the worst.
It's the not knowing that’s driving me crazy.
He’s holding his truce and I need to know why, why he’s waiting.
What the hell he wants, why would he care if anyone found out he was in the tunnels at night?
He’s a senior officer who can do what he wants.
.. So why offer me a way out when he could have killed me?
I only saw him once, Friday. Of course the one day I didn’t use the fucking duck.
The day had already started badly, Threads crawling before I even rolled out of bed. I could have reached for it, should have. But no. I had a point to prove—to who, exactly? Myself? Ezzy? The mirror? I don’t know. But I didn’t use it, wanted to see if I could go without it. Hold my own.
Idiot.
Ezzy had run ahead to our class, eager to grab good seats, leaving me trailing behind.
I was just reaching the lecture theatre—Thread something and Treaty Alignment, aka State-Sanctioned Brainwashing for Beginners—counting my steps as if, by just keeping moving, I could outrun the magic clawing its way up my throat when I heard his voice.
Flint-sharp, furious, ripping into Merrin like he didn’t give a fuck he was the High Chancellor. Heart pounding against my ribs, I ducked behind the nearest pillar, held still, breath locked tight in my throat but I leaned out just enough to watch, to listen.
“Yes, and while I’m grateful you took care of it,” Merrin bit out. The gold seams of his red robes caught the light as he shifted “You should have just—”
“They were speaking out. Publicly.” Talen snapped back, voice coiled tight with rage.
“Anti-treaty rhetoric. What was I supposed to do, wait? Treason is treason. Better their beliefs burn with the dragons than infect the rest of them. They broke the Codex. The process is irrelevant when the outcome is mandatory.”
His voice wasn’t just cold, it was cruel and militant. So emotionless it sent a biting shiver down my spine.
The wall caught my back, rough stone biting through the thin fabric of my shirt as I pressed closer, chasing stillness that wouldn’t come. My magic sparked anyway, fast and erratic. Threads flickering to life beneath my skin, tightening, vibrating like a bowstring stretched too far.
Staying hidden was the plan. Don’t move. Don’t breathe. Wait it out, let them pass, then get back to the dorm and grab the duck.
But then—Ezzy. Bright, loud, impossible to miss, popped her head out of the lecture theatre, calling my name before disappearing back inside.
I flinched, but it was too late.
Both their heads snapped in my direction.
Talen was still raging when his eyes locked on mine. And god, that stare, sharp and primal, cut right through me. My legs went tight and for one reckless, skin-prickling second… I wanted him to come closer. Wanted to see what he’d do if I didn’t back down.
So I stared back, steady, unblinking. Not afraid.
Daring him. Like I wasn’t one second away from losing it, like I’d welcome the excuse.
But he just tilted his head, rage gone in a breath and that crooked smile curved back into place. Lazy. Knowing. Like he could see straight through me.
Which only made things worse.
The pressure in my chest spiked—fear and magic clawing up my throat, itching to tear loose, pulsing just beneath the surface.
And just when I thought I couldn’t hold my Threads down a second longer, Merrin moved. A quiet hand to Talen’s arm, a murmur I couldn’t catch. Talen went still, jaw tight. Then, without a word or a backward glance, he turned and vanished into the side room.
My shoulders eased on a long exhale, tension bleeding out—just for a second, I thought it was over. But Merrin didn’t follow.
Instead, he turned and walked directly toward me. One step. Two. The red of his robes whispered around his boots, gold trim flickering like firelight with each movement. Then, he stopped just short of touching me—close enough that the magic in my chest flared like a warning.
“I hope you’re keeping out of trouble, Cadet Bloom?” He asked, voice deceptively mild. “Keeping up our deal? If you want to walk out of here next month, alive, journals in your hand, you’d be wise to follow the Codex...”
My throat dried. Shit. Did he know? That I tried to escape?
I thought about saying that I got lost. That I was exploring, being curious, stupid even. Not breaking rules, just bumping up against them. Something safe, soft, believable.
But if Talen already told him everything then a lie might just confirm guilt. One wrong word and he could have Reassigned me right then. One wrong look and maybe I would have vanished like whoever Talen was raging about.
So I decided to stay still. Say nothing, let him think I was scared. Which, fuck, I was, but I forced a slow nod anyway.
At first, he didn’t move. Just stood there, face unreadable until his mouth twitched. Not quite a smile, more like... confirmation.
“Good,” he said, “because I’d avoid drawing any unnecessary attention to yourself. We don’t want history to repeat itself...” Then he turned, walked back to the room Talen had vanished into, and shut the door.
I didn’t know what he meant.
Didn’t want to go after him to find out, my magic was about to explode, so before anything else could set me off I bolted back to the dorm. Found the bloody duck and gripped it like it could stop a storm. Told myself to stop being such a cocky idiot and keep it on me from now on.
And thank fuck I did—because not ten minutes later, I crossed paths with Talen’s friends coming down the main stairwell. The dark skinned officer built like a wall, and the flawless pale brunette Talen couldn’t stop staring at.
They didn’t say a word, but the way they watched me as I passed made my skin crawl, like they were just waiting on a signal to be let loose.
My skin prickled, but I met their gaze and kept my face flat, even though every muscle beneath it was coiled to snap. Because here, fear isn’t just weakness, it’s an invitation. And I’m not about to send one out on scented parchment with my name embossed at the top.
By the time I sat down to eat, my hands were still shaking but just not as bad, thanks to the duck clutched tightly under the table.
Finn, Rowan, and Ezzy were already there eating—Ezzy slid me a plate before I even asked. After this morning, I just wanted ten damn minutes where no one talked about Talen. Or death. Or both. But then Finn opened his mouth.
“A dark, stabby form of courtship,” Finn said, while chowing down his lunch, like we were talking about flowers and not murder. “Some people give chocolates. Maybe Talen gives assassination attempts?”
I replied that if that’s his idea of flirting, God help whoever he actually falls for, and that I hope she’s got good life insurance. Even Rowan, half-buried in a book, laughed a little at that one.
But then Finn tipped back in his chair, cracked his knuckles in a way that earned a disapproving look from Ezzy and added: “Rumour is, he killed his first girlfriend.” My fork froze halfway to my mouth.
“Her family was doing something sketchy. Anti-treaty stuff. She didn’t stop them.
Didn’t report them.” He paused. “So he took care of it...”
Under the table, my grip around the duck tightened and we finished the rest of lunch in silence.
But later that afternoon, Offensive Magic with Quinn was thankfully uneventful—no Talen, no blood, no screaming. Just one poor Earth Realm kid who ended up in the healing wing looking like he'd swallowed a volcano.
Unfortunately, I saw Ryven. He was staring at me from across the room, toothpick and his twisted smirk back like he’s gearing up to make me his favourite problem again.
My Threads flared bright, under my skin, but the duck was in my pack and my fingers found it fast, the edge dulled just enough to let me breathe.
I just want to survive long enough for him to get bored and for me to get the hell out of here. Just over three weeks left, that’s all, head down, stay alive, get the journals get out. But if Ryven comes for me again... I don’t know if my magic will stop this time.
“Working meditation?” I whisper to Finn, one brow raised.
He shrugs mid-scrub, like it’s the most reasonable thing to be doing on a Saturday morning. “Yeah. You know, clean the floor, clean your mind.”
I’d hoped the weekend might mean rest, a break, it didn’t. Apparently, we spend it silently scrubbing down the Citadel like that’s supposed to bring enlightenment.
No talking, no sound. Just you, your Threads, and every thought you’ve been trying not to have. By hour five, I would’ve happily volunteered for another Demonstration just to hear someone scream and cut through the silence chewing holes in my brain. Okay, maybe not a Demonstration, but something…
Merrin passed through once, didn’t speak, didn’t look at me. Just kept walking, the deep red of his robes trailing behind like smoke.
And then came the creepy guru guy, Serrane, the Sovereign Minister of the Citadel.
Head to toe in pristine white, like death dressed in silk.
He floated through, silent as shadow, and every single person bowed.
Finn. Ezzy. Rowan hesitated—jaw tight, eyes locked on the floor—but in the end, even he did too.
When we finish Finn invites me to the Rec Hall to train with them, like he’s done every afternoon this week.
At first, I think about saying yes. Ezzy’s there, I trust her, at least I think I do.
And training with them, more time to watch, to learn.
Wouldn’t be bad. But still, the boys. I’m not sure how I feel about them yet.
I don’t want to push them away, I want to keep them close, but I also need to keep my guard up.
I already let it drop once. So, like every other damn day this week, I make up some excuse and skip out.
Finn just nods, but the look in his eyes says he was hoping I’d say yes. The ache that flares in my chest is small, but it’s enough to make me hate myself for feeling it.
I tell myself I don’t care, that being alone is better and head back to the dorm and curl in that cold, too-hard bed—Mum’s journal open in my lap, tracing her words with fingers that won’t stop shaking.
And when that gets too heavy, I swap it for the Citadel Codex of Order and hunt for the most twisted, batshit laws they’ve buried in fine print.
So far, the Union Clause takes the cake. Cadets and or officers in official romantic arrangements cannot be separated. Sounds almost sweet until you realise it’s their way of breeding a new generation, one forged in obedience and blind devotion. The ultimate weapon.
And that’s just one clause. The deeper I dig through the Codex—the more I try to make sense of this place, this system built to look like order—the sicker it feels.
One night, once I got sick of reading their weaponised rhetoric, I tried writing to Bren.
A few different letters, but just tore them all up.
They all sounded stupid, I didn’t know where to start, or what to say.
And even if I did manage to write something worth sending.
.. how the fuck would he read it? Impossible to get it to him.
Three more weeks, I’ll see him again, I have to believe that.
But the journal, the Codex, the letters—they’re just noise, distractions, ways to stay awake a little longer. Because the second my eyes shut, the nightmares come.
Ezzy’s face when she finds out I lied, the betrayal in it, the silence right before she turns me over to Merrin. Ryven dragging me into another Demonstration, only this time someone screams and I don’t stop. I just stand there, watching, letting it happen.
They keep me up, gnawing at me from the inside.
But it’s Talen, the Nightrose, that wakes me, shaking.
I’m back in the tunnels. Damp stone at my cheek, the air thick with the scent of smoke but laced with something deeper—earthy and warm, like leather and clean sweat.
It fills my mouth, my lungs, wrapping around my neck like a noose.
Heart pounding, chest rising too fast, I shift, trying to break free. But behind me, hard muscle pins me to the wall, heat bleeding through fabric I can’t escape.
And then I feel it—cold metal at my side, digging in just enough to promise it could go deeper.
I brace.
Wait for the pain. The thrust. For him to end it.
But it doesn’t come.
Instead, the blade lingers and something far more dangerous happens.
Slow and controlled, his free hand slides up. Rough fingers slipping expertly beneath my shirt, dragging across my skin with the kind of precision that’s worse than violence.
I try to speak, to scream. Try to spit a word, a curse, anything—
But every sound dies in my throat as his magic coils around my voice like a fist squeezing tight. And then he leans in, breath ghosts hot over my neck, curling into the hollow beneath my ear like a threat made intimate.
My Threads ignite, sparking wild beneath my skin, begging me to fight, to flee. But my body... God help me, my body arches back, answers him.
Every. Damn. Time.
Then just as I'm about to break, just as his hand finds my throat, lips brushing my neck—I wake with a jolt. Sheets tangled, sweat slicking my spine. Chest heaving like I’ve run for miles and gotten nowhere.
All week, it’s been the same. His hands and my body betraying me in the dark. And now, Monday morning, I wake to find I’ve been gripping Ezzy’s duck so fucking tight one of the wings has cracked. I didn’t even notice the splinter it gave me until I grabbed my pack.
But there’s no time to deal with that, because today we find out who we’re grouped with for our first training assignments. Out beyond the Citadel walls—to shadow officers and uphold the treaty, whatever the fuck that means.
At first, I thought it might be another chance to try and escape this hellhole, but that hope died fast. Ezzy said each cadet is assigned to an officer, and they never take their eyes off you.
Not that it matters. Not that any of these Citadel-drunk loyalists would even think of leaving. They’ve been buzzing for days, bets flying, laughter echoing through the food halls like the training assignment’s some kind of exciting game.
But my Threads haven’t stopped twitching.
There’s a pressure building under my skin, something slow and coiled that won’t settle. Maybe it’s nothing. Just nerves. Still... I can’t shake the feeling that something’s coming, and that Ezzy’s bloody duck, with its now-broken wing, won’t be enough to stop it.