Chapter 17.
The sparring room was never truly empty.
Even late into the evening, when most cadets had already filtered out toward the dining hall or their barracks, the scuff of boots still echoed on the mats and the ring of metal on metal reverberated between the stone walls. Tonight was no different.
Aeliana knelt near the edge of the combat mats, a bucket of soapy water by her side, and a worn bristle brush in her hands. The faint sting of cleaning solution threaded into the cuts across her knuckles as she scrubbed, ignoring the tight pull of scabbed-over skin.
She was supposed to be cleaning with the other unbonded cadets on duty—Oren, Jace, and Tynan—but predictably, the boys had vanished behind the equipment shelves ten minutes in, voices hushed and snickering. That left her alone in the center of the room, doing the work of four.
It wasn't like she hadn't gotten used to it.
On the far mat, Violet Sorrengail was locked in a slow, focused sequence with Imogen, their blades whispering against each other in graceful, deadly arcs. Garrick was at another mat, his arms crossed, ordering a girl with a rebellion mark through a set of pushups.
Liam was slumped against the wall, a binder propped on his knees, flipping through pages while keeping an occasional eye on the girls sparring. His sword rested beside him, within reach. Typical.
Aeliana kept her eyes down.
Every scrape of the brush against the mat echoed louder than it should have.
She tried not to think about the subtle burn in her thighs or the raw sting in her palms. She tried not to think about the moments in the last few days when Liam's small kindnesses—saving her a seat, walking beside her after class—had helped her breathe a little easier.
She tried not to think about how quiet it was behind her.
Too quiet.
A weight of awareness settled along her spine a second before the boots stopped beside her.
She stiffened, still crouched, still holding the brush.
"You missed a spot," Oren murmured, voice low and casual.
Aeliana looked up.
He wasn't even glancing at the mats. He was watching her.
Jace and Tynan lingered a few paces behind him, pretending to reorganize the shelves. She could see the suppressed grins on their faces.
She turned back to her task. "Then clean it yourself."
But Oren crouched beside her, like he had something to say.
Something just for her.
"I heard it's not the fall from a dragon that kills you," he whispered, voice dipped low enough that no one else could hear. "It's the way your ribs shatter when you hit the ground. Wonder if that's true."
Aeliana's breath caught.
Her fingers tightened on the handle of the brush.
He smiled—something cold and cruel beneath the surface—and stood.
And just like that, he walked away.
She stayed frozen on the mat, muscles trembling, the sick burn of fear threading beneath her ribs.
She didn't look toward Liam, didn't dare meet Garrick's eyes across the room.
For all her strength, for all her training.
.. there was no fighting that kind of threat. Not here. Not without consequences.
Not without proof.
The bucket sloshed as she scrubbed again, harder than before, like she could scrape the memory from her skin.
She finished the last mat with robotic precision, barely registering the ache in her back or the tension riding high in her shoulders. When she stood and dumped the water down the floor drain, her hands were raw, her breathing shallow.
The sparring room buzzed around her, business as usual.
But inside her, everything was shifting again.
The fear.
The rage.
The knowledge that she was still being hunted—even if no one else could see it.
Without a word, Aeliana turned and left the room, slipping through the doors without looking back.
Dinner waited.
~
The hall was louder now—buzzing with voices and the clatter of trays—by the time Aeliana stepped inside.
Her stomach clenched with something that wasn't quite hunger.
She paused just inside the doorway, eyes flicking across the room. The usual tables were filling up—squads clustered together, laughter rolling through the air like smoke. Her gaze snagged on the corner where the unbonded cadets usually sat, but it felt too far away. Too quiet.
Before she could decide what to do, a voice cut through the din.
"Aelia!"
Her head snapped toward it.
Liam was waving her over, already scooting down the bench between Ridoc and Sawyer to make space. Violet looked up from her tray beside him, and Rhiannon gave a small, almost shy smile.
The gesture knocked the air right out of her.
Aeliana's boots felt like lead as she walked over, heart thudding like she was stepping into enemy lines instead of a dinner table. But no one stared at her as she approached. No one sneered. No one whispered.
Sawyer shifted his tray to give her more room, flashing a crooked grin. "Nice of you to grace us with your presence."
"Sorry," she murmured, sliding in beside Liam. "Got held up."
"You okay?" Sawyer asked, his tone suddenly more serious. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
She hesitated. Glanced once at Liam, who was already studying her with that same careful, quiet intensity.
"I'm fine," she said. "Just... tired."
Sawyer didn't push, but his smile turned gentle. "Long day, huh?"
"You could say that," she said softly, picking up her fork.
Across the table, Ridoc raised a brow. "Longer than usual?"
"Long enough," she said, not unkindly.
They let her eat in peace after that.
And for the first time in weeks, Aeliana felt the absence of silence around her.
Not loneliness. Not fear.
Just... company.
Even if she couldn't say everything out loud yet, it was enough to be seen.
And for now, that was all she needed.
Eventually, the table emptied.
She left the hall in silence, tray cleared, footsteps slow.
The walk back to the barracks was cold.
Stars blinked overhead, and frost was just beginning to settle on the stone ledges and dry grass. Her knuckles stung with every flex of her fingers, and she tucked her hands deeper into her coat sleeves.
Inside the unbonded barracks, the atmosphere was tense. The air reeked faintly of sweat and damp socks. Some cadets were already asleep, others murmured to each other from their bunks. Aeliana moved to her own and dropped her satchel gently beside it.
Her bed looked exactly how she'd left it.
But she didn't feel safe.
She pulled back the blanket and stared at the thin mattress. Her breath caught in her throat.
Earlier, she'd cleaned. Scrubbed until her fingers ached. Done her duty.
And yet Oren's voice lingered in her ears.
"I heard it's not the fall from a dragon that kills you..."
She shivered.
She could hear him even now, a few rows down, laughing low with Tynan and Jace. She didn't need to look. She knew he was watching her.
Waiting.
The mattress creaked beneath her weight as she sat. The walls felt too close. The air too thin.
No.
Not tonight.
She stood, quietly.
Gathered her satchel.
Pulled a change of clothes and the small pouch she kept hidden at the bottom—her mother's box tucked safely inside, wrapped in worn linen.
Then, barefoot, she tiptoed down the aisle of snoring and whispering cadets.
She didn't look back.
The air outside bit harder now, sharp and clean in her lungs. The wind tugged her braid loose as she crossed the courtyard and slipped inside the First-Year Dorms, climbing the stairs in silence.
She didn't know what she expected—if he'd be asleep, if she'd have the courage to knock—but her feet carried her forward until she stood in front of the familiar door.
Liam's.
She hesitated.
Raised her hand.
Before she could knock, the door creaked open.
He hadn't planned to open the door so quickly. But the moment the footsteps paused, something in his gut had told him it was her.
So he opened it.
And there she stood.
Aeliana looked like she was holding herself together by threads—satchel slung over her shoulder, exhaustion in the curve of her spine, a flash of uncertainty in her eyes she tried to hide too late.
Her hair was damp from the night air, and her expression was taut—alert and guarded, the way he'd only seen her look before a fight.
She blinked at him, surprised.
He kept his voice soft. "Aelia."
She didn't answer right away, just stared at him like she wasn't sure if she should stay or run.
"I heard someone stop outside the door," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Figured it was you."
Her throat worked as she swallowed. "Oh."
Then he caught sight of the way she gripped her bag. Tight. Like it held something precious.
His eyes narrowed. "Was it because of what he said earlier?" he asked quietly. "Oren?"
Her breath caught.
And that was all the confirmation he needed.
"I saw him come over to you in the gym," he added. "Didn't hear what he said, but... I saw your face after."
Aeliana looked down.
He hated how used to that look he was becoming.
"Come in," he said, stepping back.
She hesitated—but only for a second.
Then she walked past him, into the room.
The door clicked shut behind them, muffling the world.
She didn't say anything at first—just looked around, taking in the space. Her gaze paused on the bed.
"Didn't realize you bonded a dragon and upgraded to a palace," she murmured, setting her bag down by the foot of the mattress. "This bed is huge. I'm kind of jealous."
Liam gave a breath of a laugh. "Perks of being Flame Section now, I guess."
"Guess I'm really slumming it, then."
He moved to the corner, dragging the desk chair back with a creak. "I can sleep here," he offered, already reaching for a blanket.
"What? No." Her voice was sharper than she meant it to be—he could tell by the way she flinched.
Then, quieter, "If anything, I should be the one on the chair."
He straightened, meeting her eyes. "You're not sleeping on a chair after the day you've had."
"Neither are you."
Liam exhaled. "We can both take the bed. It's big enough."
She hesitated again, then gave a nod. "Okay."
He watched her move slowly toward the far side, setting her satchel within arm's reach on the floor like she wasn't sure how long she'd be allowed to stay.
She pulled off her boots and lay down stiffly, like her body didn't quite trust the mattress.
He slid in on the opposite side, leaving space between them, unsure what to say—if anything needed to be said.
The room fell quiet. The kind of quiet he usually liked.
But tonight it felt heavy.
Then her voice broke through the silence.
"Thank you."
He looked over.
She was lying on her side, facing away. But he could still hear the words—threaded with something raw and small.
"You make me feel safe," she said, softer than before. "I don't... I don't feel that very often anymore."
Liam's heart clenched so hard it hurt.
He turned toward her, resting his head against the pillow.
"You are safe," he said quietly. "At least when you're with me."
Aeliana didn't answer.
But after a moment, her shoulders relaxed.
And the silence that followed wasn't heavy anymore.
Just... still.
And Liam stayed awake long after her breathing slowed, watching the window, and thinking of all the things he still hadn't said. But for now, she was here.
And that was enough.
—
Liam blinked awake to the soft hush of morning light filtering through his windows. For a second, he reached toward the empty side of the bed, already expecting cold sheets and silence.
But his hand landed on warmth.
Stillness.
Aeliana.
She lay curled beside him, still asleep, her breathing slow and even. A few strands of hair clung to her temple, and one hand rested near her face, bruised knuckles visible even now. She hadn't moved much during the night. Hadn't stirred when he'd shifted or sighed.
And gods, she looked peaceful.
Like this room—this tiny, quiet space carved out of the chaos—had given her something close to safety.
Liam swallowed, the weight in his chest a strange combination of protectiveness and guilt.
She hadn't left for her usual morning run. Hadn't slipped out before dawn.
She had stayed.
And that alone told him how much she'd needed this. Needed not to be alone.
Careful not to wake her, he eased himself from the bed, grabbed his shirt, and dressed quickly. He glanced back once before he left, just to be sure.
Still breathing evenly.
Still asleep.
Still safe.
—
The dining hall buzzed with the usual morning shuffle—cadets sleepily shoving food into their mouths, talking in half-sentences between yawns, the occasional clatter of a tray.
Liam made a beeline for the food line, filling two plates without hesitation—one loaded with eggs, fruit, and bread; the other, heavier on protein. He balanced them as best he could, earning a curious glance or two, then made his way toward the usual table.
Sawyer was already seated, lazily eating a banana, and Ridoc sprawled opposite him, mid-bite into a thick slice of toast.
Sawyer raised a brow when Liam dropped both plates in front of himself.
"Hungry much?" Ridoc asked, eyeing the twin trays.
Liam sat down. "One of them is for Aeliana."
Ridoc's chewing slowed.
Then stopped.
He lowered the toast and fixed Liam with a sharp look. "She's with you?"
Liam nodded once. "She's still sleeping."
Ridoc's face darkened instantly. "Oren?"
"Yeah." Liam dragged a hand down his face. "She came to my door last night with a bag. Wouldn't have knocked if I hadn't opened it first."
Sawyer blinked, confused. "Wait, I don't get it. Why would she—?"
"She's been getting targeted." Ridoc's voice was flat now. "Those three bastards—Oren, Tynan, and Jace. They've been at her for weeks."
Liam glanced between them, the edge in his voice unmistakable. "She said they trashed her bunk a few days ago. And in the sparring room—while she was cleaning yesterday—Oren came over. Whispered something. I didn't hear it, but I saw her face change."
Sawyer sat up straighter, fork paused midair. "She's been doing all the cleaning?"
"Of course she has," Ridoc muttered. "They never lift a finger. Let her do everything while they sit around."
"And no one's stepped in?" Sawyer asked, incredulous.
Liam shook his head. "She didn't tell anyone. Tried to knock on my door a few times the last couple weeks—" his throat tightened "—but I was never there."
Ridoc swore under his breath.
"She doesn't want to cause problems," Liam continued. "Doesn't want to seem weak. But that whisper yesterday? It shook her."
He looked down at the plate meant for her.
"She's tough," Ridoc said quietly. "Stupidly so. She'd let herself get beaten half to death before admitting she needed help."
"I know." Liam clenched his jaw. "That's why I'm helping now."
There was a beat of silence.
Then Sawyer leaned back. "So she's sleeping in your room now?"
"Just last night," Liam replied. "I don't know what she'll want going forward. But I'm not letting her go back there until we figure something out."
Ridoc nodded slowly. "Good."
Liam finally picked up his fork.
He didn't feel hungry anymore.
But he'd eat.
For her.
Because when she woke up, there'd be a plate waiting.
And maybe, for once, she'd know she wasn't alone.
—
Liam balanced the tray with practiced care as he stepped out of the dining hall, the late-morning light slanting warm across the stone corridors. The food was still hot — he'd made sure of that. Eggs, bread, a little fruit, and an extra roll he knew she liked.
He moved quickly, his boots quiet over the worn floor, tension creeping into his shoulders the closer he got to his room.
He didn't know what kind of night she'd had.
Didn't know if she'd woken from nightmares, or if she'd slept soundly for the first time in weeks.
Gods, he hoped for the second. Hoped even more that she wouldn't be gone when he opened the door — that she hadn't slipped out before the sun had fully risen, still convinced she had to face everything alone.
He unlocked the door quietly.
The hinges gave a soft creak.
And then—
Movement.
Aeliana stirred beneath the blanket, her eyes fluttering open. She blinked slowly, then pushed up onto her elbows, her hair tousled and falling into her face.
For a moment, she just looked at him.
Then her gaze drifted to the tray in his hands.
"You... brought breakfast?" Her voice was rough with sleep, low and hoarse.
Liam set the tray on the desk and gave her a sheepish shrug. "Seemed like the least I could do."
She pushed the blanket back and sat up fully, legs swinging over the side of the bed. "You didn't have to—"
"I wanted to," he cut in gently.
She blinked at him, like her brain was still booting up from sleep. Her eyes flicked toward the window—where sunlight spilled in a little too high for early morning—and her brows drew together.
"What time is it?" she asked, rubbing her face.
"Nearly nine," he said. "You slept through dawn."
Aeliana groaned and flopped backward onto the mattress. "You're kidding."
Liam chuckled. "Nope."
"I never sleep that long."
"I noticed."
She sat up again, running both hands through her hair, pushing it back from her face. "I can't believe I didn't wake up. Not once. Not even for my run."
He hesitated. "That's a good thing, right?"
Aeliana was quiet for a second. Then she exhaled, the breath soft. "Yeah. It is. I just... haven't done that in a while."
She looked up at him, eyes a little clearer now.
"I thought I'd bolt awake the second I heard footsteps. Or doors. Or the wind. But..." Her shoulders lifted in a small shrug. "It was quiet."
Liam's heart tugged.
"I'm glad," he said, voice quieter now.
"Still," she added, half-smiling. "Bit rude of you to let me oversleep."
He snorted. "Right. Next time I'll shake you awake and shove your boots on."
"That's the kind of consideration I expect from a friend."
"A friend who brings breakfast."
Her smile lingered for a beat, before she glanced at the tray again. "You remembered the roll."
He nodded. "Of course I did."
She didn't say anything for a moment.
Then she stood.
The tension hadn't left his face. It sat in his brow, the corners of his mouth, the way his shoulders curled in ever so slightly — like he still carried the guilt of every time she'd knocked on his door and found no answer.
Aeliana stepped forward.
He straightened instinctively, eyes searching hers for something he couldn't name.
And then her hands were on his face.
Fingertips brushing his jaw, her palms cupping his cheeks like he was something delicate, like he might break if she let go.
"As long as I can come to you now," she said, quiet but firm, "as long as I can rely on you, as long as you don't leave me again... then everything's okay."
Liam's breath caught.
Relief hit him like a wave — sharp, sudden, and all-consuming.
He nodded.
Fast. Repeatedly. "You can. I swear, Aelia—"
She pulled him into a hug.
No hesitation.
His arms wrapped around her like they had every right to be there, anchoring her close. Her head tucked beneath his chin, and he let out a long breath, one hand rising to the back of her head, just to make sure she was still there. Still real. Still okay.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"No," he murmured back. "Thank you. For trusting me again."
They stood like that for a minute longer before she finally pulled back, eyes still soft, still tired but not nearly as haunted.
"Use my bathroom," he said, gesturing toward the closed door. "Take your time. Stay here as long as you like. Lock the door when you leave."
A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Thanks."
He bent to grab his pack. "I'll see you in History?"
She nodded. "I'll be there."
Liam paused at the door, turned to look at her once more — standing in the golden light, arms crossed loosely over her chest, a trace of peace in her expression.
He smiled.
Then slipped out, the door clicking gently shut behind him.