Chapter Thirty-Six #2
Anger, but not like before, not the cold, restrained fury he turned on Professor Strannt. This is different. There’s heat behind it now, rough around the edges, like it got pulled out too fast and he doesn’t know how to sheath it again. And it’s aimed at me.
“Do not,” he snaps, “put yourself in danger like that again.”
What the fuck?
Who does he think he is?
I should tell him to go to hell. Should let him stew in whatever saviour complex just dragged him in here like a storm. Caring is one thing. But turning that fury on me, like I’m the one who crossed a line?
I could turn and walk out now, shut the door on all of this before I start asking questions and he says something I can’t un-hear. But no. Not yet. Not until I get the truth. My hands curl into fists before I even realise I’ve moved.
“You don’t get to stand there and be angry with me,” I snap, voice cracking sharp against the stone. “I did nothing wrong.”
He flinches, just barely, but I don’t stop. Can’t. The words scrape out before I can shove them down.
“You’re a monster, you’re just like them. Like him.” I jerk my chin toward the door Weasel Senior just disappeared through. “God, I’m such an idiot. You Innerlanders are all the same.”
Something in Talen’s face cracks, fast. Like a punch landed. His mouth opens but at first nothing comes out. Then his eyes narrow, gaze dropping to my uniform.
“You might want to check what’s on your own back, Thorn,” he taunts.
“Because right now, you and I don’t look that different.
” He steps in closer, the scent of smoke and leather curling off him, heavy and impossible to ignore.
“You think your people are so innocent in this? Didn’t ask Bren about the attacks, did you?
Outerlanders aren’t just hitting Citadel guards or officers anymore, civilians are getting caught in it.
Innocent civilians who had nothing to do with any of this. ”
My mouth parts as I stare him down, waiting for the twist. The smirk. Anything that says he’s just trying to mess with my head. He’s lying. Has to be.
“They wouldn’t—” The words almost slip, but I bite them back. Not civilians. Not unless they were provoked. Unless someone made the first move.
Talen shakes his head, “You’ve seen it. You know, not everyone here is as evil as you want to believe. Ezzy. Finn. Rowan. They’re Innerlanders, are they your enemies too? Monsters? Would they deserve to die?”
“If you want me to think you’re not evil, then why did you take him?
He... he was a father.” My voice cracks, splinters down the centre.
“And you were taking him to be Reassigned, to die.
He didn't deserve that, you said you had no evidence.” My fists shake, throat tightening so fast I can barely breathe around it.
“Fuck, Lyra. No. I wasn’t,” his voice is hoarse, like it took something out of him just to say it. “He wasn’t being Reassigned.” He turns, hand dragging hard through his hair, and his breath leaves in a punch—tight and uneven, like it’s been sitting in his chest for days “But he will be now.”
What? What the hell does that mean—he wasn’t, but he will be now?
When he faces me again, whatever he was holding on to, whatever fight or fury or bullshit posture he’d been hiding behind, it’s gone.
Just like that.
It drops out of him, and what's left isn't anger, it's hollow. Shoulders slack, eyes duller than they should be. Not broken, not dramatic. Just… like he doesn’t have anything left to put between us.
I search his eyes and something twists in my gut. Not fear. Not doubt. Just a stark realisation… The baker, when he opened the door, he was nervous, yeah. But not surprised, he wasn’t scared. Didn’t run. He didn’t start thrashing until Strannt grabbed him.
That’s when the panic hit.
That’s when he fought.
Because Talen wasn’t there to Reassign him. He was taking him somewhere else. Somewhere he wanted to go.
And I got in the way.
Oh god.
I got in the fucking way. Because I was too angry, too angry at Talen to be able to see past what was really going on.
My lungs feel too tight. My mouth goes dry, but my chest is buzzing—hot and hollow—because the dots are connecting too fast and too late and I can’t stop them.
He has daughters.
And now—
Talen’s voice comes back to me, a memory from earlier, slicing through the spiral.
You don’t know what you’re doing. I’m not your enemy. But keep going, and I will be.
I stagger back a step, air caught in my chest like I’ve been hit.
“No,” I breathe, head shaking. “No, no... I didn't know... I...”
Did I just get that man killed?
My hands lift uselessly, palms open like I can offer something, fix something, but I don’t even know what I’m holding anymore.
And I don’t know.
God, I don’t know.
I look at Talen. Really look at him.
“I don’t understand what's going on.” My voice is raw. “You won’t tell me anything.”
His gaze softens. The muscle in his face eases, just a fraction, and the lines around his eyes pull tight in a way that isn’t anger—it’s understanding.
“Don't you think I wish I fucking could?” The words come out tight and tired, like they’ve been sitting in his chest too long.
“I wish I could give you answers, I wish I could tell you everything, but I'm trying to protect you, protect others. God, everything I’ve done since you got here was to protect you.”
He shakes his head once, breath pulling tight. “But it’s not just about you, Lyra. Every answer I give you, every truth I let slip—it doesn’t just put you in danger. It puts everything around you at risk.” His eyes flick to mine, and this time he doesn’t look away. “I need you to just trust me.”
Everything I’ve done since you got here was to protect you.
Is it? When I arrived he said he wanted me dead.
Was that real, or just bait to keep others away and keep me safe?
I don’t know, I don't know anything. I want to believe him, god, I want to, but belief without proof is a blade pressed to my own throat. I can’t afford to be wrong, not if I want answers.
I just want to know if he’s on my side. That’s it. Just that. Just once.
“You want me to trust you,” I stress, “then give me something real. Something that proves I’m not just a pawn in whatever game you’re playing. Look me in the eye and say, ‘I’m doing something to protect you, I'm doing something to protect others,’ and seal it with a Truth String.”
His mouth moves like the objection is already forming, but then he sees it. The shift in my face. The fact that I already know why he can’t.
“But you can’t…” I realise, as my posture softens.
“Because if that's true, if you are trying to protect me and you gave me a String, it wouldn’t just be reassurance. It’d be proof.
Proof you’re doing something you shouldn’t be.
” The words come faster now. “That’s why Professor Strannt asked if you’d ever given me a Truth String—because if I’d said yes, he would’ve asked what it was for.
He could’ve kept pushing. And then he’d know.
” My throat tightens. “Not just know, he would have evidence you’re hiding something. ”
Talen exhales hard, like the weight of it finally broke loose in his chest. “Yes, yes, that’s exactly fucking why.
Even you knowing I’m hiding something is dangerous enough.
But binding it with a Truth String—” He shakes his head once, rakes his fingers through his hair again. “That’s the ultimate admission.”
“But if he has it out for you,” I continue, brows pinched, “why didn't he ask about the relationship? I know he suspects it's fake, or even just asked if I’ve seen you do anything suspicious?”
“I’m sure if he’d had more time with you, he would’ve.
” His hands curl into a fist at his side, knuckles white.
“But digging for dirt just to get me Reassigned, killed, that’s not what Professor Strannt’s after.
He wants proof. Something solid.” Pausing, he exhales through his nose.
“Fuck. This is all my fault. I didn’t think he would be stupid enough to try anything with you.
But after today... after he saw you standing in front of the baker's door, protecting him and my reaction to it.” Talen scrubs a hand over his face as my chest tightens.
“And look, I get it. I know why you did it, stepped up. I’m not blaming you for that, this is on me.
I let you see too much, let you hear more than I ever should’ve.
” He swallows hard. Shakes his head. “I just... I didn’t want you to hate me.
I wanted you to know I’m not your enemy. But fuck, even that was a mistake.”
I don’t know what to believe. The pulse behind my ribs returns, not as fast but just as hard.
He’s right there in front of me, watching me with that intent, careful look—like he’s one breath away from reaching out, and I’m one breath away from letting him. But then he turns and starts to pace, measured and tight, like he’s walking off a fight he can’t have.
“This was so much easier when you thought I wanted to kill you.” He mutters, each step sharper than the last. “At least then I could keep my distance. Keep you safe. But then you had to go and save Ezzy from that prick Elijah, and the only thing I could think of—” He stops.
Laughs once. No humour in it. “—was enacting the goddamn Union Clause. Forcing you to chain yourself to me.”
The pressure in my chest climbs, crowding my head, blurring my thoughts—and the longer he talks, the more dangerously close it all feels to making sense.
That’s the part that gets me. It makes sense—if he’s protecting people, then telling me anything just puts them at risk. Especially if Weasel Senior can pull Truth Strings out of me while my Threads are still this unstable.
Talen warned me, on the ledge. Our first date, told me to stop digging. To trust him. Said if I kept pushing, people would get hurt. And look what happened today. That was me, that was my fault.
I want to believe him. I want to believe he’s doing something good under all this. But want doesn’t mean trust. And no matter how many explanations he gives me, how perfectly they line up. There’s still nothing he can say that’ll make me feel safe. That will make me trust him.
But right now, I still need something. Not about the war, or the politics, or whoever he’s trying to protect. Something real. Something ours.
“Just give me one thing at least.” I swallow hard. My voice barely holds. “Why the urchin?”
“The what?” His brows pull tight.
“I found it in your pocket, after Ashvale. I can't figure it out. Did you try and poison me?”
His eyes flash, wide, stunned as he steps in, like the distance between us suddenly feels unbearable.
“You seriously still think…” he snaps, voice fraying at the edges, “after everything I’ve done, that I’d pull something like that? After that kiss?”
“You mean the mistake?” I shoot back, but my voice comes out quieter than I mean it to.
His eyes snap to mine. Hurt. Desperate. “Fuck, Lyra—” Another step.
Closer. “Every time you walk into a room, all I think about is that fucking kiss. I can’t get it out of my head.
If we hadn’t stopped, I was a second away from doing something I couldn’t take back.
I wanted you.” Another step. “All of you. But then you…” He suddenly cuts off like the words strangle him.
I narrow my eyes, throat locks, chest too tight. Every nerve’s on high alert, too aware of the heat coming off his body. Too aware of how close we are now.
“But then I what?” I press, the words catching on my tongue. “You know something, don’t you? Something’s going on between us—my Threads, the way they react when you’re near.” His body goes rigid. I push anyway. “It started when we touched. When we were close. But yesterday, in the Rec Hall…”
His lips pull tight. Then he takes a step back. “I’m not talking about this.” His words land flat, final.
I stare at him. “This is about me.” My voice rises, breaking past the burn in my throat.
“Whatever this is, whatever you’re hiding, it’s happening in my body.
My magic. I deserve to know what the hell is going on.
” His eyes flick to mine, just once, then away.
“Is that why you won’t touch me?” I press.
“Is that why the kiss was a mistake to you?”
His expression shutters. “The kiss was a mistake. We should’ve kept our distance. It can’t happen again, it won’t happen again and there’s no point talking about it.”
“That’s all you have to say?” My voice shaking now.
“You keep saying you want me to trust you, but then when I ask one thing—one thing that’s about me, not the secrets you’re carrying—you shut me out.
You want blind trust, but you give nothing back.
How am I supposed to keep believing in you when you won’t even let me understand what’s happening to my own Threads? You can’t have it both ways.”
He opens his mouth, stops, and closes it again.
Of course.
“Typical,” I snap. “No surprise there. You said you don’t want me to hate you? Well, congratulations, you’re doing a terrible job because right now I hate you.”
His chest rises once, then stills. “Maybe that’s for the best.”
Then he turns, jaw tight, and walks to the door.
Opens it without looking back. “Professor Strannt’s gone,” he says, voice flat.
“You should go before he’s back. Stay away from him until you can control your magic.
That’s where your focus should be, not chasing answers to questions bigger than you.
” His hand tightens on the doorframe. “If you can’t get a grip on your Threads, you won’t be able to help anyone. ”
He stands there holding the door open, gaze fixed on the floor. Not at me.
Coward.
I narrow my eyes, shove past him, and storm out.