She blinks, her wide smile falters, just for a beat, long enough for me to know I hit the mark. Then she nods, all quick sincerity.
“Right. Of course. Quiet mode, got it.” She mimes zipping her lips and tossing the invisible key. Dead serious.
“Thanks.”
“Anytime,” she whispers, like we’re in on some shared secret now.
It’s strange; she should be wary. Suspicious, cautious, at the very least. That’s how most people look at Outerlanders, like we’re wild animals in borrowed skin. Dangerous and uncivilised, barely a step up from criminals.
Butthisgirl isn’t.
She’s all sunshine and questions, like someone who’d try and pet a hungry lion just to see if it purrs.
I glance at her, really look this time. “Why are you being nice to me?” The question slips out sharper than I mean. More suspicion than anything else.
Ezzy blinks, caught off guard. Then she shrugs, sheepishly. “I don’t know. Shouldn’t I be?”There’s no calculation in her voice. No fear. Just... warmth. Uncomplicated. She tilts her head, smile crooked now, like maybeshe’sthe one who doesn’t understandme. “My mum always says, kindness is free until you prove it shouldn’t be.”
Oh. I see it now. Ezzy isn’tbrave. She’s not calculating, or clever, or hiding some secret power move. She’s just...sheltered.
The kind of girl who’s never seen real suffering up close. Never had to gut a rabbit or bury a friend. She’s not fearless, she just doesn’t understand the danger. A small part of me wonders what it would feel like, to look at the world and not brace for it to bite back.
I almost envy her. Almost...
“Oh! And also—” She adds. “Merrinpersonallyasked me if I could keep an eye on you. And obviously, I jumped at the chance. I mean, being in Merrin’s good books?” Ezzy lets out a quick breath. “That’s worth more than gold around here.”
Something twists in my chest. “What did he say exactly?”
She waves a hand, like it’s no big deal. “He didn’t say much, just that it was important. You know... to keep you around. Make sure nothing happened, anyway we should get you down to the afternoon Initiation Brief... Nothing worse than being late on the first day of the new semester.”
I hesitate slightly. I should really keep my distance, she’s soft, naive and annoying as hell, exactly the kind of person who gets you killed in places like this. But softness can be useful too... People like Ezzy hear things. See things. Get underestimated. Four weeks, that's all, to survive this place, get the journals and get out. If I play this right, maybe she’ll be more of an asset than a liability.
So I nod and walk over to grab my pack, shoving the leather journal deep inside. The strap bites against my shoulder as I sling it on, heavy with Bren's hook and poor decisions.
“Okay, let’s get this over with,” I mutter, opening the door.
We leavethe dormitory wing and step into a wide corridor that curves along the inner edge of the Citadel’s central tower, overlooking a perfectly circular, open-air courtyard below. Everything’s lined in grey stone, massive, cold, and meticulously cut. The kind of place built just to remind you who’s in control.
Voices drift up as cadets and officers fill the space beneath, but I keep my gaze ahead—main stair, guard posts, a side door left just slightly ajar. It’s almost pointless, I probably won’t make it twenty feet if it ever comes to running, but still, I map thelayout like muscle memory. Old habits die hard, and survival isn’t about what’s likely, it’s about being ready anyway.
Ezzy walks beside me in committed silence, her sparkly hairpin catching the light with every step. But her lips fidget, and I can already feel the next question building in her throat like pressure behind a dam.
I toss her a glance. “Youcantalk, you know.”
She blinks. “Really?”
I nod once. “Just don’t make me regret it.”
But then something flickers, just a twitch in my finger, small, but real. I flex my hand and try to reach inward, willing the spark to answer, but still nothing. No surge, no pull. The hum I’ve lived with my whole life—that coiled energy always pressing against my ribs—is still there, just... muted. Not gone. Just caged.
Ezzy looks over, catching the tension in my face.
“It’ll come back,” she gestures towards my hands. “That twitch? It’s a good sign. It’s Merrin. He’s a Silencer, muting Threads... that’s his speciality. And he’s... really bloody good at it.” She pauses, then adds with a small shrug. “That’s why people fear him so much. No one wants to find out what it feels like when your magic goes quiet.”
She smiles like this is all perfectly normal, just another Sunday afternoon, then turns as we reach a grand flight of stairs coiling downward, linking the upper tiers to the courtyard below. It’s beautiful, if you’re into things that scream power and money.
The Citadel is far more pristine than I expected. Every inch of it gleams, like the stones have been polished by magic or obsession. It’s everything the Outerlands isn’t—grand, ordered, clean. Like walking through a history book written by only the winners, every stone a smug little monument to the people who cast us out.
And the cadets and officers? Yeah, they notice me.
