Chapter Twenty-Six #3
“What’s this?” He doesn’t answer, so I flick it open like I’ve got every right, and to my surprise, he doesn't stop me.
The first few pages are rough sketches—charcoal lines, quick and clean.
Faces. Mostly girls. All different, but all…
intimate. Caught in quiet moments, I pause on one.
Scar over her right brow, dark braid, heavy stare.
Beth—drawn from a distance, sitting in the courtyard, face half-turned, caught mid-laugh.
“Not sure you want to keep looking,” he warns from behind me.
“Why?” I ask, tone flat, slightly mocking. “You embarrassed?”
“Nope. Just figure you'll get flustered eventually.”
Ignoring him, I keep flipping through. Page after page, more faces, more girls. Then, as I turn the next page, my grip tightens. Beth again, stunning as ever, beautifully drawn—but this time she's naked. Detailed. Precise. Every curve of her body mapped out like he memorised it.
Jealousy punches up, hot and unwelcome. And god, it’s so fucking stupid. I flip the page harder than I mean to. Behind me, Talen watches. I feel it, the weight of his eyes dragging over every little tell.
“She posed for that one,” he notes unbothered.
My mouth twists. “Figures.”
I flick past Beth. And past her again, and again. God, how many angles does one girl need?
“So…” I try and keep my voice neutral. “You and Beth?”
Talen shifts to lean against the bench beside me, arms crossed, still shirtless, still too damn composed.
“Her parents have been trying to arrange a match for years. They want the alliance, status, bloodlines, all that.” He lifts one shoulder, lazy. “We tried it out, had some fun last year. But that’s it.”
I arch a brow. “Fun?”
“We both got what we wanted. Enough to know it won't work. She’s not my type. Beautiful, sure. But she’s... thorny in all the wrong ways.”
My eyes stay locked on the sketchbook, another woman—bare, stretched across the paper in a pose that leaves nothing to the imagination. Not Beth. Still drop dead gorgeous, still detailed enough that my throat tightens.
Around me, the Rec Hall’s packed but no one’s looking, still it doesn’t stop the heat rising up my neck. Talen doesn’t seem to care. He stands next to me, steady as stone, arms folded, like I’m skimming notes from a field report. Not looking at tits and cheekbones.
But then something shifts, on the next page I turn is a landscape, drawn in brutal, aching detail.
Jagged mountains rise, snow-dusted and sharp, bleeding into the glass-still surface of a lake so precise it looks like it’s alive.
At the edge stands a girl—small, alone, hair whipped by wind, her back to the world, hands loose at her sides.
I pause. This one isn't like the others, no flirtation lines, no seduction. Just silence, longing. It’s... sad, something in my chest goes tight.
“What is this place?”
Talen shifts beside me, quiet. Not grinning now. “Just somewhere I dream about.”
“And the girl?”
“Just another girl.”
I look down at the page again. The cold light, the stillness. “You’re good at this,” I admit before I can stop myself. “Really good.”
Talen doesn’t smirk or gloat. Just watches me. My fingers pause on the edge of the next page, his eyes flick down to them, then back to mine like he’s about to say something. And then—
Whack.
Strannt slaps him hard across the back, all sweaty palm and smug timing and the bubble of silence around us pops. Noise from the hall rushes in—footsteps, laughter, shouted dares from the sparring mats.
“Showing Bloom your little doodles, are we Veirmont?” Strannt grins like he thinks he’s clever. “So sweet. Nice to see the two of you are still together.”
I stiffen, Talen doesn’t.
I hate this Weasel. From the first day, I knew. And after what he did to Ezzy—setting her up to die and walking away without a scratch? If anyone in this place deserves to bleed, it’s him.
“Hope you’re ready for your training assignment tomorrow, Bloom?” Strannt asks tone all mock-camaraderie. “Heard we’ve got a weekend trip to your homelands.”
“The Outerlands?” I ask, too quickly to be casual.
“Oh, didn’t they tell you? Guess they’re not big on giving the natives a heads-up.”
Talen’s eyes flick to me, no surprise in them. He already knew, of course. “Piss off, Strannt.” He says.
“Just making conversation.” Strannt laughs, but it’s forced now.
“Hmm. Is that what you call it when you insult my partner to her face?”
Partner. The word hooks in my chest. I know it’s part of the act, part of the lie we’re selling, but hearing it out loud, in front of half the hall, makes my stomach twist.
“Didn’t realise she needed defending.” Strannt barks.
“She doesn’t,” Talen replies, unfolding his arms now. “But I do have a problem with someone trying to flex their superiority when all they’ve ever done is hide behind their father’s rank.”
Strannt flushes. “I’m not hiding.”
“No?” Talen takes a step forward. “Because I’ve seen you in drills. I’ve seen how you watch others fight. Always standing just outside the ring. Mouth running. Never bleeding.”
“And you’re bleeding for her now? An Outerlander?”
Talen’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes.“I’d bleed for her any day before I’d speak a single word in your defence.”
Silence, heavy and charged. My throat tightens, but I don’t speak. Talen’s not even looking at me, his whole attention is pinned to Strannt like a weapon.
“You want to prove something, Veirmont?” he throws out, teeth gritted. “We can go right now.”
Talen exhales like he’s bored. “You’re not worth my time…” Then he glances over at me, the corner of his mouth pulls. “But I know a little thorn who could use the practice... ”
“What?” I snap. My stomach drops like a stone.
“You’re serious?” Strannt laughs, but it’s uneasy now.
Talen shrugs. “Unless you’re worried she’ll embarrass you.”
“She won’t.” Strannt bristles.
“Then step up.”
I turn to Talen, voice low and seething. “What the hell are you doing?”
He finally looks at me. “I’m giving you what you want,” he replies. “Permission.”