I blink, head snapping back to the courtyard.
The Weasel and Lucien are rallying the group, waving us towards the main stairwell. For a second, Strannt’s weaselly gaze lands on me, narrowing slightly. He’s kept his distance the last few months—ego still limping from our fight—but the look in his eye says he’s gearing up for round two. I don't look away, though, just flash back a sweet smile,prick.
As we walk out, I catch Finn glancing sideways at me, like he’s itching to ask more about Talen, so I cut in before he opens his mouth; “How about you and Ezzy?” His grin dies on contact. “Oh come on,” I press, keeping my voice light. “I know you kissed. She told me. Why are you still holding out?”
Finn sighs, shoulders slumping as we start walking down the stairs. “Nothing’s changed,” he mutters. “I haven’t changed. I still don’t want her getting caught up in my shit. My fog.”
There’s more to it, I know there is, but he doesn’t volunteer it until we’re nearly at the bottom.
“Also…” He adds, dragging the word like he’s trying to buy himself time. “I floated the idea past my parents over the break. Just to test the water.” He lets out a short huff of a laugh, no real humour in it. “Let’s just say they’re not exactly on board.” I wait, but he doesn’t go on. Just shakes his head once. “It’s fine. Let’s just leave it.”
We walk a few more minutes in silence, boots echoing down stone corridors, until the tunnel entrance comes into view. Twoguards are posted out front. One of them spots us and lifts a hand in an excited wave.
“Hey, Lyra,” Brian calls out. “How’s Ezzy getting on with those books? Haven’t seen her around lately.”
“Oh, yeah, she said to say thanks,” I say, too quick, voice tight as we stop in front of him. “They’ve um, been really helpful.”
I promised, no more lies, but Brian doesn’t count. Right?
And luckily Finn doesn’t seem to notice. His lips press flat, eyes lingering on Brian a fraction too long, trying to act like he’s above it but can’t quite pull it off. He doesn’t see Brian as a threat, but that doesn’t stop the flare of jealousy.
Brian clocks the shift in Finn’s posture and offers a small, awkward smile, like that alone might smooth the tension from the air. It doesn’t. But before it can sharpen, Strannt steps in, cutting across our path to strike up a conversation with the other guard at the tunnel mouth.
We step back automatically, giving them space, shifting towards Lucien who’s leaning back against the wall. His arms crossed, eyes flicking between his watch and the corridor behind me.
Strannt keeps talking at the guard—loud, obnoxious—but every so often his eyes cut to me, that weasel mouth tightening into something more like a snarl than a smile. Thank god officers can’t join in Call Week; I know I can take him in a fist fight, but I don’t know how deep his magic runs, and I’m not volunteering to find out.
“Wrap up your flirting, Strannt,” Lucien teases, voice dry as dust. “We’ll be ready to go soon.”
Colour creeps up the back of the Weasel's neck, shoulders twitching as he gives a little scoff, half-turning from the male guard like he meant to move anyway, but the stiffness in his jaw says otherwise.
Then—footsteps behind us. Firm. Clipped. Familiar.
“Ah, Goldie,” Lucien calls, glancing over my shoulder. “About fucking time.”
I turn as Talen steps up beside us. His gaze catches mine, flaring for a split second before he forces it away. His jaw’s locked, shoulders pulled tight like he’s holding something back.
“Thisis our group for today?” he asks Lucien, voice tense, clipped at the edges, almost angry.
Lucien lifts both palms in mock surrender, flicking his chin toward Strannt like,don’t blame me.
Talen doesn’t even blink. His mouth presses thin, brows drawn. He looks at me again, then exhales hard through his nose, like just seeing me is a problem. For a moment, he hesitates, chest rising hard. Then:
“Fine,” he bites out, clipped and cold. “It’s already locked in. It has to be today, let’s just get it over with.”
Talen doesn’t wait for a reply, just turns and starts toward the tunnel. Boots sharp against stone, no glance back.
I shift my weight, the beat under my ribs louder than it has any right to be as my eyes flick to the curve of his back, the way his shoulders don’t drop even as he walks away.
Do I go after him? Do I pull him aside? Just say it, what the hell happened yesterday? Did you feel it too?But what if he didn’t?
What if itwasjust me? Just some glitch in my Threads, or worse, some pathetic projection of what I wanted? No, I know he felt it, I know he did. That look, flushed, stunned, like every pulse of want crawling through me hit him just as hard.
But by the way he just looked at me, the edge in his voice, the way his mouth tightened the second he saw me. He’s not mad about the assignment, or Strannt. He’s madI’min it. He’s pissed I’m here.
Whatever it was, whatever he felt, he clearly did not want it.
Not like that. Not like I did.
