It sends a jolt up my spine, heat chasing it fast, memory snapping into place before I can stop it?—
That morning. Ravenscross.
The bathwater had just started to cool, I’d moved to climb out, but he turned the hot tap on with a flick of magic and pulled me back into him—arms wrapped tight. Then his hands moved down, slipping between my thighs and holding me there, touching me like he’d mapped every nerve, like he already knew exactly how to unravel me with nothing but his fingers. By the time he was done, I couldn’t remember what day it was. Hell, I could barely remember my own name.
The image burns out as fast as it hits, and the courtyard slams back into focus—noise, the weight of afternoon sunlight pressing down. But my pulse is still hammering, heat creeps up my neck, flushing my face.I try to hide it, but not fast enough.
“Oh, this definitely isn’t just sex anymore,” Rowan teases as he steps up beside me.
My lips press thin. I try to play it cool, but it’s way too fucking obvious. I’m in deep with the Nightrose, no point pretending otherwise. Doesn’t mean I can’t give it back.
“You can talk,” I reply with a small laugh, eyeing the oversized jumper hanging off his frame. “Still raiding Daniel’s closet, I see?”
He grins. “It’s comfortable.”
“Sure. Bet he is too.”
We trade jabs for another beat, childish and stupid and way too loud for what today’s about. Maybe it’s just nerves, a way to outrun the weight of it all. Coping mechanism or not, I’m honestly surprised Finn doesn’t join in. He just stays quiet beside us. Hands shoved deep in his pockets, head down—not even a Nightrose joke. Which is… strange.
Rowan opens his mouth to throw another jab, but then?—
“Can we maybe not do the happy couple thing right now?” Ezzy's voice soft, her arms tightening across her body.
Something small tugs behind my chest. Whatever’s going on between her and Finn, it’s past awkward now. Since she floored him in Quinn’s Offensive Magic class, he’s been quiet. Distant. Not angry, just... gone.
It’s been hard to watch.No arguments, no tension, just silence. Like whatever they had got buried, and neither of them’s digging it back up.
Finn takes a step back, Rowan clocks it, throwing an arm around his shoulder, but Finn just shrugs it off without a word.
I glance at the three of them, god, so much tension strung between us, and the Trials haven’t even started yet.
“Your attention, please.” Merrin’s voice slices through the courtyard, cutting straight across the noise. Conversations around me snap off mid-word as heads turn.
He’s already on the central platform, sunlight catching the gold trim of his red robes and standing just behind him—Talen.
Our eyes lock—it’s just a flicker—but there’s the faintest curve at the left corner of his mouth, something private, familiar. It sparks across my skin like static.
But then Merrin walks over and leans in, murmurs something low against his ear. The shift is instant, his smile fades, the glint of something human, familiar—gone, replaced by cold composure and Citadel-perfect posture.
For a moment, Merrin lingers there, watching him, like he’s making sure the message landed. Then finally he straightens, turns without a word, and steps to the front of the platform.
“You’ve reached the end of your second year.” Merrin calls out, voice steady, loud enough to carry without needing to rise. “A hard-earned milestone. The final Trial begins shortly. But first,” he shifts, gaze sweeping the crowd, “one of our own deserves recognition.” Another pause. Not dramatic, just purposeful. “Officer Green. Please step forward.”
A ripple moves through the crowd, whispers, the shuffle of boots. Brian shifts out from the side line, awkward as ever, straightening his uniform as he steps on to the platform.
Merrin shifts, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Officer Green has shown exceptional diligence. We recently discovered he’s been conducting a bit ofextracurricularresearch in his own time. Quite the aspiring scholar.”
Brian smiles, uncertain but pleased as he rubs the back of his neck like he doesn’t know what to do with the attention.
Then Merrin turns, nodding once toward Talen, barely a movement, but Talen’s shoulders instantly stiffen. A muscle ticks once at his temple, and then his hand closes.
Brian jerks.
At first it’s small—just a sharp inhale, a confused blink—but then he staggers, fingers flying to his throat. His expression shifts from confusion to panic in the span of a heartbeat.
“While we commend initiative,” Merrin continues, unbothered, “we must remember that some knowledge is better leftundisturbed.”
Brian’s choking now. His boots scrape against the floor, hands clawing at air that won’t move, and behind him, Talen’s fist stays closed. .
