Chapter Thirty-Five
Ijolt upright, sweat slick down my spine, breath catching like I’ve just sprinted across half the Air Realm.
It takes a second to remember where I am—stone walls, stale air, the thin scratch of wool against my skin. Not Ashvale. Not the square. Not the scent of smoke curling through shattered market stalls.
Just a dream, I tell myself. It was just a dream.
It never comes in full images, just flashes.
Movement in the dark. Dark green scales, flexing through the smoke, plates tight as armour, the edges burning metallic.
Alive. Breathing. And then those eyes—glowing, rimmed in violet—lock on to me through the haze like they’ve seen me before. Like they never stopped watching.
It’s always the same. Vivid, vicious.
At first, I thought it was just trauma. A slow-burn punishment for everything I left behind. The ones I never got to save. But lately it’s not fear that lingers when I wake. It’s... comfort. Quiet and unnerving. Like whatever’s out there sees me. And it’s waiting.
Across from me, Ezzy’s still out cold, one arm flung over her head, snoring like she hasn’t got a care in the world. I think about waking her, asking what she thinks it means—but then I’d have to admit I’ve been thinking about it at all, and it’s just a dream.
So I roll on to my side away from her and close my eyes. The images are already fading, but that warmth, that feeling right at the end? It shouldn’t feel safe. But it does.
The Weasel stands next to Lucien—same white uniform, same rank, same polished gear. One wears it like it’s a second skin, the other like he stole it off someone braver.
They’re both watching the girls walk past in the courtyards as cadets gather for today's training assignments, shadowing officers’ patrol routes.
Lucien doesn’t bother hiding it—smiling and letting his eyes drag, like he’s choosing dessert. Doesn’t matter that everyone knows he’s had Beth in his bed all week. Most of the girls still smile back.
The Weasel tries the same move. Nothing. One girl doesn’t even bother hiding her eye-roll.
The courtyard’s all stone and hard light. Spring’s here, technically, but the wind still cuts through. Too cold for the short sleeves they’ve got us in, but no one’s stupid enough to complain.
I just want to get through this day without the Weasel or anyone else putting their hands on me.
I'm exhausted, couldn't sleep last night, not after what happened with Talen in the Rec Hall, and then the strange dreams.
Plus, Call Week’s next week, and Elijah and Ryven already made it clear I’m top of their list. Wouldn’t be surprised if a few others have plans too.
So I need to avoid any drama, as I've still got work to do. I just need a few more hours on the mat with Beth this week. Talen said he wasn’t worried before, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be.
“Sooo… how’s it going with the Nightrose?” Finn cracks his knuckles like he’s about to spar someone not digging for gossip, then shifts beside me, easy and loose. “Things looked tense yesterday in the rec hall. Not getting enough action? Someone holding out?” A wink.
God, he doesn’t know the half of it. “Yeah. Something like that,” I huff—might pass for a laugh if you weren’t listening too close.
It’s not a lie. But I don’t want him asking more questions about a fake relationship I can’t keep sidestepping. Not after yesterday. Not after lying awake half the night trying to make sense of whatever the hell that was with Talen. Replaying every second like that’ll help me get answers.
Luckily, Beth walks by, and Finn’s attention snaps to her like a hinge.
Although he loves to poke and gossip, I am glad it’s him with me on our training assignment today.
It could be worse. I could be stuck with the Weasel and the three other cadets who keep watching me like I’m on their sanctioned kill list for Call Week.
Wouldn’t take much, just one excuse, and they’d get to lawfully take down an Outerlander without even dirtying their record.
Across the courtyard, I see the tops of two heads—Ezzy and Rowan—blonde hair catching the morning sunlight. Probably for the best they’re not with us today.
Ezzy’s still being weird around Finn and grumbling about my training with Beth.
And Rowan… yeah. I can tell he’s starting to get tired of me.
He hasn’t said anything; he wouldn’t, he’s too nice for that, too patient.
But I see it, he wants us to be smart, careful with our research.
Whereas I just want to burn bridges and get the goddamn truth yesterday.
A loud barking laugh draws my eye sideways. Lucien’s grinning down at Beth, who’s just whispered something in his ear. God only knows what filth she fed him. Beside them, Beth’s friend flinches—arms crossed, shoulders up—while Strannt fumbles through small talk she clearly wants no part of.
Fuck he's so sleazy, but even though I hate the Weasel, I have to admit I was relieved as hell when I found out I wasn’t shadowing Talen today.
After whatever that was yesterday in the Rec Hall, I bolted.
The second they finished sparring, I was gone.
Didn’t look at him, didn’t let myself, then spent the rest of the day dodging him like a coward.
Because that look on his face… I can’t shake it. Raw. Flushed. Stunned. Like I’d hit him, like he’d felt it. All of it. And I know he did.
But how? Last night I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Trying to piece things together. And then it hit me. Every time we’ve been... close, something weird has happened.
When he kissed me that first time, the fake one. Then again, in Ashvale and when he touched my face during our first training session together. Every time, he jumped back like I’d burned him.
That wasn’t nothing. That was a reaction.
To me.
To whatever the hell is happening between us.
Even the first time, in the interrogation cell, when he body-searched me. He flinched, and my Threads, which were buzzing before, went quiet. Calmer. Weaker, even. It was the same after the Ashvale kiss...
I didn't realise it before, the pattern, I just thought it was my body reacting—chemistry, proximity, or the fucking poison from the Snare Urchin. But it’s not. It’s deeper than that. My Threads are responding to him. And now... It’s like he’s reacting to them. To me.
Is that why he won’t touch me since Ashvale?
I thought he regretted the kiss. That he was keeping his distance as he thought it was a mistake too... but now I’m not so sure.
“Hey, looks like we’re heading out,” Finn nudges my side.
I blink, head snapping back to the courtyard.
The Weasel and Lucien are rallying the group, waving us towards the main stairwell.
For a second, Strannt’s weaselly gaze lands on me, narrowing slightly.
He’s kept his distance the last few months—ego still limping from our fight—but the look in his eye says he’s gearing up for round two.
I don't look away, though, just flash back a sweet smile, prick.
As we walk out, I catch Finn glancing sideways at me, like he’s itching to ask more about Talen, so I cut in before he opens his mouth; “How about you and Ezzy?” His grin dies on contact. “Oh come on,” I press, keeping my voice light. “I know you kissed. She told me. Why are you still holding out?”
Finn sighs, shoulders slumping as we start walking down the stairs. “Nothing’s changed,” he mutters. “I haven’t changed. I still don’t want her getting caught up in my shit. My fog.”
There’s more to it, I know there is, but he doesn’t volunteer it until we’re nearly at the bottom.
“Also…” He adds, dragging the word like he’s trying to buy himself time.
“I floated the idea past my parents over the break. Just to test the water.” He lets out a short huff of a laugh, no real humour in it.
“Let’s just say they’re not exactly on board.
” I wait, but he doesn’t go on. Just shakes his head once. “It’s fine. Let’s just leave it.”
We walk a few more minutes in silence, boots echoing down stone corridors, until the tunnel entrance comes into view. Two guards are posted out front. One of them spots us and lifts a hand in an excited wave.
“Hey, Lyra,” Brian calls out. “How’s Ezzy getting on with those books? Haven’t seen her around lately.”
“Oh, yeah, she said to say thanks,” I say, too quick, voice tight as we stop in front of him. “They’ve um, been really helpful.”
I promised, no more lies, but Brian doesn’t count. Right?
And luckily Finn doesn’t seem to notice. His lips press flat, eyes lingering on Brian a fraction too long, trying to act like he’s above it but can’t quite pull it off. He doesn’t see Brian as a threat, but that doesn’t stop the flare of jealousy.
Brian clocks the shift in Finn’s posture and offers a small, awkward smile, like that alone might smooth the tension from the air. It doesn’t. But before it can sharpen, Strannt steps in, cutting across our path to strike up a conversation with the other guard at the tunnel mouth.
We step back automatically, giving them space, shifting towards Lucien who’s leaning back against the wall. His arms crossed, eyes flicking between his watch and the corridor behind me.
Strannt keeps talking at the guard—loud, obnoxious—but every so often his eyes cut to me, that weasel mouth tightening into something more like a snarl than a smile.
Thank god officers can’t join in Call Week; I know I can take him in a fist fight, but I don’t know how deep his magic runs, and I’m not volunteering to find out.
“Wrap up your flirting, Strannt,” Lucien teases, voice dry as dust. “We’ll be ready to go soon.”
Colour creeps up the back of the Weasel's neck, shoulders twitching as he gives a little scoff, half-turning from the male guard like he meant to move anyway, but the stiffness in his jaw says otherwise.
Then—footsteps behind us. Firm. Clipped. Familiar.
“Ah, Goldie,” Lucien calls, glancing over my shoulder. “About fucking time.”