Chapter Thirty-One
“Hey... do you think this means anything?”
Beside me, Rowan taps a finger against the page, his voice cutting through the Citadel library's silence. The ink’s brittle with age, half the paragraph drowned in thick redactions—just fragments left behind.
I lean in. “Don’t think so.”
The library’s so quiet, nothing to muffle the stench of mildew and ink, thick like damp secrets crammed between rotting shelves.
Most cadets won’t be back from the semester break until this afternoon.
Until then, it’s just Rowan and me. He stayed behind to give Ezzy space, said the two weeks apart would do them both good.
My eyes skim the shelves. Row after row of rules pretending to be knowledge. I thought coming back here would feel different. But everything still stinks of power and lies.
And the worst part? I came back willingly.
Leaning across the table, I drag another book closer.
Pages crack as I thumb through more censored crap and half-truths dressed up as doctrine.
I'm well aware I’m not going to take down the Citadel with a stack of textbooks.
I’m not stupid. But this is where it starts.
If there’s something buried in here, I’ll find it.
I’m done being kept in the dark. I want answers. I want revenge.
But wanting it isn’t enough; I need to survive long enough to get it.
That means getting control of my magic. That means not getting gutted by some power-hungry cadet trying to prove themselves in a Demonstration.
Not drawing attention to what I’m really doing here.
And definitely not screwing up again when it comes to Talen.
I can’t keep blundering through like last semester’s version of myself. I don’t have to like this place, don’t have to agree with its rules—but I do have to play by them. At least for now.
Rowan drags a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath. I watch him as he flips a page and something presses against my ribs—low and quiet, the kind of ache that doesn’t go away when you ignore it.
God, I have to change, I need to. It has to be different this time—with him, with Ezzy, with Finn.
No more lies. Well, no more new ones. I don’t need more strategic partners or alliances built on leverage.
I can't keep pushing people away; I need to let them in.
I need friends. Real ones, ones I can trust, ones that trust me.
Everyone back home is gone, and I walked away from the only other person I had. Bren barely looked at me when I left. Didn’t say a word. Didn’t move. Just sat there, staring like I was already gone. And that, that hurt more than anything he could’ve said.
I thought about staying, hell, part of me wanted to, desperately, but how am I supposed to help? How do I fix anything when I’ve got no answers and no power?
The soft flick of a turned page breaks my thought. “What about this one?” Rowan asks, tapping again. I scan it, but nothing useful. Nothing that connects.
I shake my head. “It’s the same as the last five. Scrubbed clean.”
He exhales hard and keeps reading.
I was surprised when he said he wanted to help.
Ezzy and Finn don’t believe him, but he swears the people he saw in Ashvale eyes were all black—no whites, no pupils, just endless dark, just like that dragon I saw in the square.
And you can tell he also doesn’t buy the story about them veering off migration paths either.
There’s no explaining away what they did to Ashvale. Not when he saw it first-hand.
And honestly, I’m grateful he’s here because if anyone around here would know something about dragons, it’d be Rowan. The books he’s always buried in? All dragon-related. And those little model displays Finn keeps breaking? Also dragons, and he’s never heard of one with black eyes.
Rowan shifts, about to say something, when the door behind us groans open.
Heavy boots follow as Professor Strannt, Weasel Senior, sweeps into the room in deep-blue robes, cane tapping in a slow, deliberate rhythm against the stone.
Moving to the second row, he pulls a book from the shelf—the same one I just put back.
For a heartbeat, I swear he studies the ragged edge where someone, maybe me, has been prying pages free.
“Hmm. Seems this one’s in need of a little repair,” he notes, as he drags his thumb along the torn edge.
Then his weaselly eyes flick to us, and I straighten without meaning to.
He holds my gaze a second too long. Then, finally: “You’ll both be late for the afternoon briefing,” he adds, eyes narrowing.
“Might be wise to conclude your studies and head down to the courtyard.”
Not unkind, just firm, but definitely not a suggestion.
We’re not doing anything wrong, other than the odd page I borrow, but technically, cadets are allowed in here; there’s nothing classified on these shelves—nothing the Citadel hasn’t already scrubbed clean.
They only keep what they want us to read.
Everything else has been redacted, removed, or buried deep enough we’ll never find it.
But still, we’ve been in here most days over the break, combing through whatever we can find, hopeful, but every trail ends the same.
No reports of dragons or people with black eyes.
No records of veil breaches. Nothing useful.
Although dragons have been seen migrating between the Southern and Northern Peaks, no one’s bonded with a dragon since the Treaty—and apparently, once they were exiled, any interest in tracking their behaviour stopped.
I’d hoped to stay longer, see what else we could find, but Rowan is already packing up before I can say anything.
I’d like to say it’s just about the information that I want to stay for.
But not just that. The truth is, I don’t want to leave, not yet.
Because once I step out of this library, it’s not just Ezzy and Finn who will be back today, it’s Talen too.
Ahead of me, Rowan pauses at the last shelf, sliding a book into place with that same quiet precision he always moves in. I wait a second longer than I need to, then fall into step beside him as we head out, and the library door clicks shut behind us.
The hallway’s cold, air sharp in my throat—but my palms are sweating anyway, nerves don’t seem to care it’s winter.
Fuck. I’ve managed to avoid thinking about Talen for the past two weeks.
Rowan hasn't asked anything either, which suits me fine; not talking about it just makes it way easier to pretend it didn’t mean anything.
Yeah, I kissed him. But it was only a kiss.
And I wasn't even kissing a Citadel Officer that night, not really. That night, he was just a guy, a stupidly good-looking guy who’s repeatedly saved my life.
The same guy that could’ve Reassigned that merchant in the square, but didn’t.
Just handed him a strange envelope and let him walk.
Plus, I know it must have been him who was dropping the Spice to Rhiann when I couldn't.
I’ve heard people talk about the things he’s done, dark things, things that should scare me. But that’s all it’s ever been. Talk. I’ve never seen it with my own eyes.
The only time I saw anything was when he killed that Cadet in Demonstrations, but Beth said he was too far gone, that he was in pain and wasn’t coming back.
And after sitting through more of those sessions, I get it.
No one steps in; they just let them scream until someone drags them off. But Talen didn’t. He ended it. Fast.
I’m not saying he’s good. I’m not even saying I trust him. But maybe he’s not the villain I thought he was? And anyway, it’s not like one kiss makes me a traitor. Right?
At least that’s what I’ve been trying to tell myself for the past two weeks.
The library’s tucked upstairs in one of the northern wings, quiet enough that even our footsteps echo, but as we head back toward the main stairwell, the noise hits—voices rising, boots clattering, the courtyard below already buzzing with returning cadets and the louder it gets, the tighter my chest pulls, because the truth is, he is a Citadel officer.
Part of this system, and it was stupid, a reckless mistake.
Just because I want something doesn’t mean I should have it.
Especially after I found the Snare Urchin in his pocket, everything in me wants to believe it wasn't him; logically, it doesn't make sense, but still, how did he get it?
God, I want answers. Desperately. The tailor shop, the sign on the door, the envelopes, the black eyes that keep turning up in places they shouldn’t.
It’s not a coincidence, not after what happened in Ashvale. Every instinct I have says it’s connected, and that Talen knows what's going on.
I need to get my shit together. Bite down the want. Pretend the kiss never happened. Play the part and lean into this fake relationship—because if I let myself want him, really want him, I’ll lose focus. And I can’t afford that. Not when he’s the only lead I’ve got.
As we step into the courtyard, Ezzy’s easy to spot, her blonde hair catching the afternoon sun like a flare. She’s already found Finn. And, for once, they’re not bickering. I guess the time apart was good for them, too.
We cross through the crowd, breath misting in the winter cold, tension still low and sharp in my gut.
They turn as we approach, Finn gives me an elbow bump and that cheeky grin he always wears like armour, but I don’t get a chance to fire back because Ezzy’s already crashing into me, arms thrown around my shoulders before I can react.
Guilt flares, tight in my throat and for a second, I think about pulling away.
The last and final lie I told her was on the way back to the Citadel, right before she left for break.
I told her Bren thought the thing with Talen was fake, that I’d said as much, because I had been hooking up with Bren previously, and it made things complicated.