Talen warned me, on the ledge. Our first date, told me to stop digging. Totrusthim. Said if I kept pushing, people would get hurt. And look what happened today. That was me, that was my fault.
I want to believe him. I want to believe he’s doing something good under all this.But want doesn’t mean trust. And no matter how many explanations he gives me, how perfectly they line up. There’s still nothing he can say that’ll make mefeelsafe. That will make me trust him.
But right now, I still need something. Not about the war, or the politics, or whoever he’s trying to protect. Something real. Something ours.
“Just give me one thing at least.” I swallow hard. My voice barely holds. “Why the urchin?”
“The what?” His brows pull tight.
“I found it in your pocket, after Ashvale. I can't figure it out. Did you try and poison me?”
His eyes flash, wide, stunned as he steps in, like the distance between us suddenly feels unbearable.
“You seriously still think…” he snaps, voice fraying at the edges, “after everything I’ve done, that I’d pull something likethat? Afterthatkiss?”
“You mean the mistake?” I shoot back, but my voice comes out quieter than I mean it to.
His eyes snap to mine. Hurt.Desperate.“Fuck, Lyra—” Another step. Closer. “Every time you walk into a room, all I think about is that fucking kiss. I can’t get it out of my head. If we hadn’t stopped, I was a second away from doing something I couldn’t take back. I wanted you.” Another step. “All of you. But then you…” He suddenly cuts off like the words strangle him.
I narrow my eyes, throat locks, chest too tight. Every nerve’s on high alert, too aware of the heat coming off his body. Too aware of how close we are now.
“But then Iwhat?” I press, the words catching on my tongue. “You know something, don’t you? Something’s going on between us—my Threads, the way they react when you’re near.” His body goes rigid. I push anyway. “It started when we touched. When we were close. But yesterday, in the Rec Hall…”
His lips pull tight. Then he takes a step back. “I’m not talking about this.” His words land flat, final.
I stare at him. “This isabout me.” My voice rises, breaking past the burn in my throat. “Whatever this is, whatever you’re hiding, it’s happening inmybody.Mymagic. I deserve to know what the hell is going on.” His eyes flick to mine, just once, then away. “Is that why you won’t touch me?” I press. “Is that why the kiss was a mistake to you?”
His expression shutters. “The kisswasa mistake. We should’ve kept our distance. It can’t happen again, it won’t happen again and there’s no point talking about it.”
“That’s all you have to say?” My voice shaking now. “You keep saying you want me to trust you, but then when I ask one thing—one thing that’s aboutme,not the secrets you’re carrying—you shut me out. You want blind trust, but you give nothing back. How am I supposed to keep believing in you when you won’t even let me understand what’s happening to my own Threads? You can’t have it both ways.”
He opens his mouth, stops, and closes it again.
Of course.
“Typical,” I snap. “No surprise there. You said you don’t want me to hate you? Well, congratulations, you’re doing a terrible job because right nowI hate you.”
His chest rises once, then stills. “Maybe that’s for the best.”
Then he turns, jaw tight, and walks to the door. Opens it without looking back. “Professor Strannt’s gone,” he says, voice flat. “You should go before he’s back. Stay away from him until you can control your magic. That’s where your focus should be, not chasing answers to questions bigger than you.” His hand tightens on the doorframe. “If you can’t get a grip on your Threads, you won’t be able to help anyone.”
He stands there holding the door open, gaze fixed on the floor. Not at me.
Coward.
I narrow my eyes, shove past him, and storm out.
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.
