Chapter Thirty-Seven
“Stop holding back!” Beth calls, hurling another wall of air directly at me.
I brace, Threads flaring instinctively. They snap out like a net, stretching thin across the room to meet hers.
The pressure hits a second later—solid, hard—and I dig in, trying to unknot, pulling like she taught me. Like I’m supposed to know how.
It almost works.
Then something slips. My grip fractures, and my Threads slip like silk through my fingers.
Her magic slams into me full-force and sends me flying.
I hit the floor hard. It hurts, not enough for a bruise, just the kind that settles in your ribs and pride.
Staring up at the empty lecture theatre ceiling, air punched from my chest, I wait for the sting to fade.
Beth’s boots echo as she approaches. She stops beside me, hand outstretched. “You’re distracted.”
I shake my head. “It’s nothing.” Take her hand. Let her pull me up.
But it’s not nothing.
Call Week starts tomorrow. For the past two weeks, my Threads have been misfiring half the time, and I haven’t seen Talen in almost as long.
“Form.” Beth snaps her fingers.
I exhale, reframe, call my Threads again. They respond—sluggish, reluctant—like they’re just as tired of trying to behave as I am.
After the interrogation cell, Talen sent Lucien to cancel all our sessions together. Told me I should focus on unknotting with Beth instead.
“Move,” she orders, already sending another gust my way, this one sharper, faster.
Breath ragged, I dodge instead of blocking, Threads crackling at the edges of my skin.
I’ve not seen him for the past two weeks. Apparently, he’s away on assignment. Or maybe that’s just easier than dealing with… this. Whatever this is between us. Between our Threads. What happened in the Rec Hall…
I tense, jaw tightening before I can stop it. I want to trust him, to believe him, but without evidence, I’d be a fool. Because the second I asked for one truth—one thing that actually mattered to me—my magic flared, and he shut me out.
“Again, pull on your knots harder this time,” Beth calls.
Panting hard, muscle strained, I raise a hand—too late. Her strike connects, my Threads barely catching the edge of it. Pain ricochets through my shoulder, I bite down a hiss. But even that doesn’t drown out the turmoil in my head.
Yeah, he saved me. Yeah, he kissed me. But is that enough to overlook that he’s a Citadel officer? That his loyalty lies with them, not me?
I push forward, magic building beneath my palms. The air hums, thick with pressure. There’s power there, knotted deep, coiled and ready. All that work with Talen, all that reserve sitting just below the surface. But I can’t tap into it. It’s there. I feel it. And still I can’t reach it.
Beth’s eyes narrow. She pivots, a new strike forming.
What if Talen knew what happened in Ashvale? What if the way he touched me, the way he looked at me, was all just another assignment?
But if he’s not lying... if what happened in that alley, to that baker, wasn’t a Reassignment. Then it’s worse, because then it’s my fault.
Beth’s blow lands and I stagger back two steps, chest heaving.
My fault he died. My fault those two girls will grow up without their father. All because I couldn’t stop, couldn’t stay out of it. Couldn’t stop myself from pushing.
I call on my magic too soon. One Thread slips loose before I’m ready—snapping out wild, unanchored—and it backfires hard.
The shock lashes up my arm, hot and biting.
I flinch, breath stuttering behind my ribs.
Too fast. Too raw. My emotions are bleeding into the magic, and my Threads are catching it—fracturing, chaotic, unstable. Just like me right now.
Beth watches. Doesn’t say anything, just waits.
I keep thinking—if I’d just been patient, just shut up, maybe I’d have some answers by now. Instead, I’ve got a body on my conscience, and I’m no closer to the truth.
God, I left everything for this. Ashvale. The only home I’ve ever had, even if most of it is gone, burnt down. I left Bren—the only real family I had left—to come here chasing answers. And for what? For silence. For secrets. For a man who won’t even look at me anymore.
A tight pull works up through my throat just as Beth’s next strike lands. I parry, magic flaring too fast, too bright, it whips sideways, hitting a desk behind her. It splinters.
“Lyra.” Her voice cuts through. Not mean but not soft either.
I lower my hand, fingers twitching with leftover power. I don’t meet her eyes. The Citadel hums like a hive around me, but I’ve never felt more alone. I can’t tell if it’s the stone pressing in or my own damn head.
Beth steps in, eyes narrowing. “You’re unravelling. Shut it down, Lyra. Push the emotion out, slow your damn breath, and pull at your knots, hard.”
I try, god, I try. But with every pull, the knots just tighten along with the thoughts inside my head. Was any of this worth it? I thought I was doing the right thing, but now I’m standing in the middle of it and I don’t even know which side I’m on.
I need answers. But not at the cost of someone else’s life. That’s the line, right? That’s the line I keep telling myself not to cross. Only it’s already blurry as hell. And I may have already crossed it.
Rowan’s pissed that I keep cancelling on our library sessions, Finn won't look at me after I snapped at him last week when he made a Nightrose joke, and Ezzy thinks Beth’s replacing her.
And maybe she’s right. Because Beth? Beth doesn’t ask me to explain. Doesn’t need me to be ‘fine’. Doesn’t flinch when I scream or spiral. No judgment, she just lets me be.
And that makes her the closest person I’ve got right now.
I launch a blast. It shatters against Beth’s shield, she barely blinks. Her Threads stay tight and clean. Easy. Mine are frayed to hell.
She finally lets her shield drop and crosses the floor toward me, the slap of her boots loud in the empty lecture hall. “What the fuck is going on with you, Lyra?”
She’s not yelling. That would’ve been easier to dismiss. She just says it like a fact. Like a diagnosis.
“I’m not here to cuddle you. I’m not gonna hug you and whisper that it’s all gonna be fine.
That’s not what this is. But for two weeks now, I’ve watched you lose grip in places you should have locked down.
You are ready for Call Week. I’ve got zero doubt about that.
” Her arms cross, a brow lifts. “But right now? Your emotions are running the damn show. And if that keeps happening, you’re going to get yourself hurt.
” Then, softer, but not gentle. Never gentle.
“So, what the hell’s going on? Something with Talen? ”
The question lands too softly for the weight it triggers. Tension snaps through me, locking me up before I can stop it. I hesitate, but it’s already too late. Beth’s looking too close, and I know my face has given me away. "Not great."
She hums, tilting her head. “Well, it seems like he really cares about you. The way he looks at you. I’m sure you’ll work it out.”
I scoff before I can stop it, "I wouldn’t be so sure."
She studies me, quiet, then hard. “Look, whatever’s going on between you two, you need to sort it out. Before tomorrow. Call Week’s brutal enough without going in distracted. So come on. Spill. Get it off your chest.”
God, I want to, I fucking want to. It’s like I’ve been holding my breath for weeks, hell months. I can feel it building in my throat, thick and aching. I just need to let something out. One secret. One truth. Something real.
Because walking into Call Week like this? With everything stuffed down and simmering? I won’t survive a second. I know I can hold my Threads steady when I’m focused. I know I’ve got the skill to take on Ryven, or Elijah.
But right now my emotions are a goddamn mess. I’m stretched too thin and too raw, and it’s all cracking beneath me.
Beth isn’t Ezzy. She doesn’t tiptoe or flinch. She won’t look at me like I’m broken. She’ll just... listen. Like she always does. Right? And it’s just her. Just one person. Bren’s the only other one who knows. That’s it. It’s not like I’m leaking it to half the Citadel.
Still, if I tell her, I don’t know what she’ll do with it.
The beat inside me edges up a notch. But I’m so damn tired. Too tired to keep carrying this thing around like it hasn’t already hollowed me out. And it’s too late anyway, because my lips are already moving.
"It’s fake."
Beth blinks. “What is?”
I stare at the ground, fingers dig into the side of my legs like I need to anchor myself.
"The whole thing. With Talen. It’s all fake.
He doesn’t care about me, he’s faking it.
" Her mouth opens, but I keep going. I have to. If I stop now, I’ll never finish.
"Fuck—I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.
Maybe because everything else is falling apart and this.
.. this is just one more thing I can throw on the fire. "
I exhale hard. It hurts to say, even if it’s true. Especially if it’s not.
"Last semester, I interfered. I crossed a line. Professor Strannt found out. I should’ve been Reassigned," I glance up at her. Her expression doesn’t change.
She’s just listening. Silent. Steady. "So Talen made a deal.
We fake the relationship. It buys me time.
Protection. In exchange for, I… I never found out.
He had questions, or maybe it was orders.
It all got blurry" I swallow hard. The panic rushes in behind the words like floodwater. "So yeah. Whatever you thought was real—it’s not. It’s fake. "
The second the words leave my mouth, I want them back, but Beth doesn’t move. Doesn’t react. Just stares at the spot in front of her like she’s waiting for something to make sense. Silence stretches, heavy and unforgiving.
Why the hell did I say anything? My chest tightens. I feel the regret start to crawl up the back of my throat. This was a mistake.