Chapter Forty-Five
This time, it’s not the smoke or the fire that wakes me. It’s the ache.
A hollow stretch beneath my chest, sharp and pulling, like something vital’s been carved out and left behind. Not mine. Not entirely.
At first, like all the previous dreams, the darkness thickened around me, but this time I didn’t flinch.
I know it now—the shape that moves like breath through shadow.
Heavy-scaled, flexing slow, dark green and glinting where the light catches.
Then those eyes find me again—violet, familiar—and the sound that follows isn’t a roar.
It’s a call. Made of wind and hunger, scraping along every Thread in my body like it’s searching. Like it knows me.
Come.
I wake with a gasp, reaching out like I can grab hold of whatever I just left behind. But when I look down, my hands are empty.
For a second, I don’t know where I am. Then my eyes adjust—full moon bleeding through the curtains, rough wooden walls, cold air slipping through half-closed shutters. Talen beside me. The Outpost, Ravenscross.
He doesn’t wake, just shifts as I move, wrapping his arm low around my waist, instinctive, possessive. The other hooks under my shoulder, pulling me back into his chest. Warm breath brushes my neck as his body heat seeps into mine like it never left.
The ache doesn’t vanish. But it quiets and sleep takes me again.
“Why does Strannt keep staring at me like that?” Ezzy asks, stiffening beside me.
I follow her gaze across the courtyard, catching his weaselly eyes on her. He always gives me the creeps. But we’re here, gathering for the Second-year Trials—they’ll start any minute—and there’s something else in his stare I can’t name.
She crosses her arms, shifting from foot to foot. God, I swear if he touches her, even once, I’ll put him in the ground. Because lately things have been better between us again.
Ezzy’s not said anything, not directly, but she’s been doing little things like bringing back extra soup from the food hall when she knows I’ve skipped meals, even covering for me when I overslept last week.
We’re not where we were. And that’s on me.
I broke it. Took advantage of the first person here who trusted me when I didn’t deserve it.
All because I couldn’t see past my own bitterness about a system—a really fucked up system—but a system Ezzy was born into and taught to follow.
A system she’s never been given the luxury to question.
She’s still cautious, still guarded. But she’s here. Standing next to me and that counts. So I swing an arm around her shoulder, guiding her away from Strannt’s stare.
Every second-year cadet’s here—black uniforms, clean boots, polished daggers strapped tight. Summer Trials mark the end of year two, and the tension sticks like sweat—thick, sour, impossible to shake.
Most are here to show off. But me? I want to survive the Trials and get answers from Talen. I trust him. I told him I do. But now I’m realising just how much I’ve handed him—my questions, my hope… maybe even my heart. And if he breaks it, I don’t know what’s left.
It’s been two days since Ravenscross. Since him. But the warmth hasn’t faded. Not even close.
The next morning, when I woke in the outpost, he was already up.
A fresh bath waited—steam rising, scent of soap curling through the cool wooden room.
While I soaked, he sent the two cadets off on some pointless errand—looking for the lost key—then joined me, slid in quiet and unhurried, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
For a while, he stayed silent. Just sat behind me, knees braced around mine, and ran the damp cloth over my back—slow, steady strokes, like he already knew exactly where I was sore.
When he finally did speak, he let me ask the questions.
So I did, pressed him on the Second-year Trials, what to expect, what they’d throw at us.
He said no one ever finds out what Serrane’s planned until the day, though usually you go in as a group.
And yeah, sticking with people you trust makes sense, but he said it can be smart to take on a few extras—cadets you don’t know—just to cover weaknesses, offset whatever unexpected bullshit they throw at us.
He told me I’m ready, that I’ll be fine.
And I believe him, but that doesn’t make it easier.
“Oh, hey Brian!” Ezzy calls as a lanky shadow slips past us.
Brian stops, just for a second, and gives a stiff, awkward wave.
I haven’t seen him since I asked about his Thread research.
I still feel bad about lying to him, which is probably why I’ve been avoiding thinking about it until Talen brought him up on our way back to the Citadel.
Said he was curious what Brian had figured out about the bond.
I told him what I knew. Most of it, he already seemed familiar with, though.
But before I can even say hi, Brian mutters something about needing to go and veers off toward the edge of the courtyard, eyes locked on the ground.
Then a shift in the air behind me, a shoulder brushes mine, just enough to be deliberate.
“Cadet Bloom.” Talen nods as he passes, stride steady, face unreadable, but just before he turns his head back—he winks. Quick. Precise. Just for me.
It sends a jolt up my spine, heat chasing it fast, memory snapping into place before I can stop it—
That morning. Ravenscross.
The bathwater had just started to cool, I’d moved to climb out, but he turned the hot tap on with a flick of magic and pulled me back into him—arms wrapped tight.
Then his hands moved down, slipping between my thighs and holding me there, touching me like he’d mapped every nerve, like he already knew exactly how to unravel me with nothing but his fingers.
By the time he was done, I couldn’t remember what day it was.
Hell, I could barely remember my own name.
The image burns out as fast as it hits, and the courtyard slams back into focus—noise, the weight of afternoon sunlight pressing down. But my pulse is still hammering, heat creeps up my neck, flushing my face. I try to hide it, but not fast enough.
“Oh, this definitely isn’t just sex anymore,” Rowan teases as he steps up beside me.
My lips press thin. I try to play it cool, but it’s way too fucking obvious. I’m in deep with the Nightrose, no point pretending otherwise. Doesn’t mean I can’t give it back.
“You can talk,” I reply with a small laugh, eyeing the oversized jumper hanging off his frame. “Still raiding Daniel’s closet, I see?”
He grins. “It’s comfortable.”
“Sure. Bet he is too.”
We trade jabs for another beat, childish and stupid and way too loud for what today’s about.
Maybe it’s just nerves, a way to outrun the weight of it all.
Coping mechanism or not, I’m honestly surprised Finn doesn’t join in.
He just stays quiet beside us. Hands shoved deep in his pockets, head down—not even a Nightrose joke. Which is… strange.
Rowan opens his mouth to throw another jab, but then—
“Can we maybe not do the happy couple thing right now?” Ezzy's voice soft, her arms tightening across her body.
Something small tugs behind my chest. Whatever’s going on between her and Finn, it’s past awkward now. Since she floored him in Quinn’s Offensive Magic class, he’s been quiet. Distant. Not angry, just... gone.
It’s been hard to watch. No arguments, no tension, just silence. Like whatever they had got buried, and neither of them’s digging it back up.
Finn takes a step back, Rowan clocks it, throwing an arm around his shoulder, but Finn just shrugs it off without a word.
I glance at the three of them, god, so much tension strung between us, and the Trials haven’t even started yet.
“Your attention, please.” Merrin’s voice slices through the courtyard, cutting straight across the noise. Conversations around me snap off mid-word as heads turn.
He’s already on the central platform, sunlight catching the gold trim of his red robes and standing just behind him—Talen.
Our eyes lock—it’s just a flicker—but there’s the faintest curve at the left corner of his mouth, something private, familiar. It sparks across my skin like static.
But then Merrin walks over and leans in, murmurs something low against his ear. The shift is instant, his smile fades, the glint of something human, familiar—gone, replaced by cold composure and Citadel-perfect posture.
For a moment, Merrin lingers there, watching him, like he’s making sure the message landed. Then finally he straightens, turns without a word, and steps to the front of the platform.
“You’ve reached the end of your second year.
” Merrin calls out, voice steady, loud enough to carry without needing to rise.
“A hard-earned milestone. The final Trial begins shortly. But first,” he shifts, gaze sweeping the crowd, “one of our own deserves recognition.” Another pause.
Not dramatic, just purposeful. “Officer Green. Please step forward.”
A ripple moves through the crowd, whispers, the shuffle of boots. Brian shifts out from the side line, awkward as ever, straightening his uniform as he steps on to the platform.
Merrin shifts, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Officer Green has shown exceptional diligence. We recently discovered he’s been conducting a bit of extracurricular research in his own time. Quite the aspiring scholar.”
Brian smiles, uncertain but pleased as he rubs the back of his neck like he doesn’t know what to do with the attention.
Then Merrin turns, nodding once toward Talen, barely a movement, but Talen’s shoulders instantly stiffen. A muscle ticks once at his temple, and then his hand closes.
Brian jerks.
At first it’s small—just a sharp inhale, a confused blink—but then he staggers, fingers flying to his throat. His expression shifts from confusion to panic in the span of a heartbeat.
“While we commend initiative,” Merrin continues, unbothered, “we must remember that some knowledge is better left undisturbed.”