Why?
“Payback?” I say, keeping my voice steady. “For what? You don’t even know me.”
"Oh,I know you,” he claims, too fast. Too certain. “I know yourtype.You Outerlanders think you’re noble because you never signed the Treaty? That doesn’t make you brave. It makes you a coward who walked away while the rest of us stayed and bled.”
"Stayed and bled for who?" I cut in, voice stiffening. "The Citadel? They don’t bleed for anyone but themselves."
He doesn’t flinch.
Doesn’t argue.
Just takes a step toward me. Then another, controlled and measured, like this is a game he’s already won. And god help me, every inch he closes in sets something primal thrumming under my skin.
The dagger now hovers just shy of his stomach, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, he leans infurther, lets the steel tip kiss his shirt, his skin—muscle flexing beneath, tight and defined, the kind forged by years of discipline, not chance. He’s solid. All of him. Built like a weapon, and it’s impossible not to notice.
Then his hand closes around mine, and he pulls. Not enough to break skin, just enough to feel the blade right there between us.
“Go ahead,”he murmurs, quiet and coaxing.“Try it. Let’s see what happens...”
His eyes hold mine—dark hazel, rimmed in gold and my breath snags, heart jumps against my ribs. But it’s not fear, that’s quiet, muted, this is from something else. Something raw, reckless.
What the fuck, I don’t want to want this—him. But there’s something intoxicating about how unfazed he is, the way he dares my body to act.
Boots shift, someone coughs. Around us, the courtyard continues to hum with low voices. Watching, waiting. I should be fighting, lunging. Hell, even running.Anything. But the part of me that’s meant to panic? It’s gone quiet. Buried under a heat that’s crawling low and slow through my gut.
I guess they don’t call him the Nightrose for nothing. Maybe that’s what this is, not attraction, not instinct, just a beautiful fucking trap I’m already halfway inside.
But, no I’m not getting caught today. One month. One deal. Head down. Survive. Get out. I shift to move, but then?—
Just the smallest shift of his wrist, barely a motion, yet the pressure hits hard. Not from his hand, but from the air around it, like a vice: invisible, but crushing. Pain lances through my arm as it’s forced to twist, tendons stretching too far, too fast. My fingers snap open before I can stop them and the blade clatters to the ground.
“You know…” he says, easy now, like we’re just making conversation. “My younger brother was supposed to start here this semester. Waitlisted three years. Survived all the prep. Not like the fifty percent who wash out, or the forty who die trying.” A pause. “But then two weeks ago, his offer vanished. Revoked. No warning. No appeal. Just gone. Turns out the spot went to someone else.” A beat. Then, soft, like a knife sliding in: “To you.”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. To me?He thinksItook his brother's place here?
"My brother didn’t take it well. Let's just say he's not asstrategicor as careful as I am…” Talen’s crooked smile twists, not quite a sneer.“He confronted them, pushed, asked too many questions and things got…heated. And we all know the Citadel doesn't like that..." His gaze locks back on mine, hard. I don’t look away. I can’t. "So they Reassigned him... No warning. No appeal. Sent him off to the Northern Peaks. He was dead by morning. Never even got to say goodbye. And now hereyouare..."
Straightening, he steps back, like he’s said his piece. Like he’s dropped a match and is just waiting to see if I catch fire. And then it hits me, I don’t even know this guy. But he thinksI’mthe reason his brother’s dead...
Something flares, hot, at the base of my throat. My Threads sparking to life, like flint on steel. I’m still standing, just, but my knees want to buckle, and there’s a pounding behind my eyes. Actual panic now, fear maybe finally here.
Shit. Think, Lyra.
If I argue, I feed his rage. If I cower, I look weak. Either way… maybe he still kills me.
I said I’d stay quiet. Keep my head down. Get the journals, get out.
But I’ve survived worse... Right? Standing my ground is what I do and staying silent tastes like surrender.
Fuck that.
I square my shoulders and breathe. I can do this.I do this.
“You think I wantedthis?” I take a step forward, gritting my teeth, my magic building. “You think I clawed my way into your world on purpose? You think Ichosethis over my own people? My own home?”
I shake my head, slow and firm and catch Ezzy’s face in the corner of my eye; it’s pale, frozen. I don’t think she’s breathing. I’m not sure I am either.
“I didn’t ask for this,” I continue, meeting his gaze—smiling, because fury makes terrible decisions, and I need him to think I’m calm. “So if you’re looking for revenge, you’re aiming in the wrong direction.”
