Chapter Sixteen #3
Chest tight and the rush climbing too fast, I scan the chamber, no Talen. No Beth or Ryven either. But they saw me run, they could’ve said something, hell, maybe they already did. Shit, what’s my plan?
“What’s going on?” I whisper to Rowan, doing my best to keep my voice level, flat, like my magic isn’t already surging up my spine.
“Contraband searches.” He replies, voice just as quiet at my side. “Standard protocol after an outside assignment. They want to make sure we’re not smuggling in anything the Citadel disapproves of.” He glances around. “Which, to be clear, is everything.”
Fuck. I’m about to get searched and interrogated?
My throat tightens as the pulsing behind my ribs picks up. Mum’s journal is safe in the dorm, but the duck, the duck I need every day to stop me from blowing myself up, is in my pack.
Shit, shit, shit.
My gaze cuts across the chamber, scanning for any way out, an exit, a blind spot, something.
But nothing. Just walls, doors, and too many uniforms. So instead I track the officers, watch their movements.
There’s a rhythm to it, most of the boys get waved through, but the girls don’t.
.. They’re pulled aside, taken into the cells.
Doors slam shut behind them. A small grated window offers just enough of a view to see exactly what’s happening inside.
A door creaks open beside me as an officer steps out, smug, satisfied, followed by what looks like a first-year cadet. She’s shaking, sleeve torn, eyes glassy, unfocused.
My brows pull tight on instinct, magic pricks under my skin, itchy and restless. This isn’t about contraband, it’s about control, about power. Who they can pull apart in pieces, humiliate. Just another sick reminder of who’s in charge.
God, why did I decide to drag the duck out on a day trip? Idiot. But what choice did I have, leave it in the dorm all day and explode? Still, what the hell am I supposed to do with it now?
Okay, the boys aren’t getting searched. If I can just get it to Rowan before they call my name, maybe I walk out of this in one piece. He’s close, if I move quick, if no one’s watching... But if someone does see? One wrong move and it’s not just me getting Reassigned. It’s him too.
“Ezzy’s duck’s in my bag,” I whisper through clenched teeth, turning to Rowan with no damn clue what I’m supposed to do about it. “And if they find it, take it, I don’t know how long I can hold my magic down.”
His eyes meet mine, just for a heartbeat, and I catch it: a flicker of worry. God, if he’s worried...
Then, without a word, he shifts his gaze forward and extends his hand beside me. Palm up, a silent offer. My fingers twitch toward the pack, the duck. But if they catch him—
“Lyra Bloom.” I pull my hand back, fast, as an officer steps right in front of me. Big. Solid. Looks like a bloody troll. Thick neck, squared jaw, arms like he could snap steel. “Room Five. Now.”
Dread snaps tight in my chest a second too late and any illusion of choice shatters fast as the officer grabs my arm, yanking me out of Rowan’s grip and hauling me across the chamber.
My ankle screams on impact, barely able to keep up. Each step sending a sharp jolt up my leg. Then he stops—sudden and hard—and I stumble forward, catching myself a breath before I slam into the door ahead.
Yanking my arm free, I turn to look him straight in the eyes. Just long enough to remind him I’m not nothing. But he doesn’t even flinch. Doesn’t even notice. Instead, the troll just starts talking, reciting words with the dull precision of someone who’s said them a hundred times before.
“An officer will now conduct a full search of your body for any concealed weapons or contraband brought in from your training assignment. You will comply with all their requests.”
Then another voice from across the chamber, louder, rougher:
“Strip her all the way. Outerlanders love hiding things where they shouldn’t.”
Laughter follows. My magic surges up in response, a single Thread slips loose, crackling at my fingers. I clamp down hard, curling my hands into fists before it can spark any further.
Pricks.
I could say something back, something barbed. Hell, I could even let my Threads out, right here, right now, god knows they’re clawing to escape after today. That would slice through the room, wipe the smirks off their faces in a second.
But we all know what happens when I let my emotions control my magic, it’s not just them that will get hit... Plus if I lash out now, if I give them even a hint of threat, they’ll just search me harder. They’ll check the bag. They’ll find the duck. And I don’t know what will happen if they do.
So I swallow it down. The heat in my throat, the burning behind my skin. The instinct to fight. And I look the troll straight in the eyes.
“Let’s get this over with,” I hiss.
A low groan scrapes from the door’s hinges as the troll pushes it wide. And there, waiting in the dark, are two eyes.
Small. Weaselly. Gleaming with delight.
“My lucky day. I’ve always had a thing for redheads.” Strannt. “Remind me again what you said earlier? Something about your mouth and my fingers?”