Fuck, he’s enjoying this; every word I throw just feeds whatever stupid game he's playing. Magic pricks at my fingertips, I drop them from Ezzy’s arm and curl them into fists.
Get it together, Lyra.
Last time, in the courtyard with him, you nearly blew it, nearly let everything slip. Don’t be that stupidagain. Brute force won’t save you, not with him. Be patient and strike smart, not fast. If he catches the scent of weakness, he’ll press until it splits you open.
Quinn clears his throat, his eyes flicking between us like he’s just noticed how tense it’s become, but not sure why.“And, ah. Yes, well, this here is Miss Bloom. Our newest cadet. Word is she has great potential.”
“Oh, we’ve had the pleasure of meeting already.” Talen steps closer as he runs a hand over his jaw. “And I’ve been so looking forward to finishing what we started.”
Don’t react. Don’t give him anything.
But my breath comes too fast, and there’s static crawling under my skin in all the wrong places.
He’s baiting me. Waiting for me to rise to it. And god help me, part of me wants to. Wants the fight.But I grit my teeth, dig my nails into my palm harder, do everything I can to hold my Threads back as I force a smile—the polite, hollow kind you give someone at your door when you wish they’d just walk the fuck away.
“Right. Well—” Professor Quinn continues, oblivious to the unspoken knife Talen currently has pressed to my throat. “She also has plenty of ground to catch up on, so I thought maybe, if time allows, you’d consider offering her a bit of one on one guidance, Officer Veirmont?”
Are you fuckingkiddingme? That’s not a suggestion, it’s a death sentence. One on one? Withhim? Quinn might as wellgift-wrap my corpse now and be done with it. No, absolutely fucking not.
I square my shoulders, lift my chin and keep my hands loose and pretend like I haven’t just been served up on a silver plate to the Nightrose himself.Beautiful. Deadly. Its petals already poised to snap shut the moment I step too close.
“Oh, I’d be more than happy to give her my personal attention...” Talen replies, his gaze dark and hungry. “Some lessons are best learned in a moreintimatesetting... ”
My heart kicks hard, pounding against my ribs like it’s looking for a way out. I try to keep my face blank, neutral, anything but what’s crawling up through me—but it’s useless now.
Then—movement.
Ezzy shifts beside me, fast, like something just snapped into place. Her fingers clamp around my arm, yanking hard.
“Thank you, Professor Quinn,” she blurts, too fast, too bright. “But, we should really go find our seats. Before class starts.”
Quinn opens his mouth like he means to speak, but she’s already dragging me off.
At first, I resist, because part of me wants to stay, to prove I can hold my ground, that I don’t back down. But my magic jolts again, enough to make my hand twitch.
Fuck, what’s the point of pride if it gets me killed? I just have to get through this class. One lesson. Play smart, not hard. So I let her pull me clear. This isn’t surrender, it’s survival.
Climbing higher,Ezzy keeps moving, row after row of students peeling past us. We reach the back, where Finn and Rowan sit stiff and tense, waiting. They slide over without a word, but both look at me like—what the fuck just happened down there?
Catching my breath, I sink into a space next to them, eyes forward, I don’t look back down. But still, even through the weight of my uniform, I can feel Talen’s gaze burning right through, stripping me bare. Finn follows my line of sight, eyes narrowing as he takes in the way Talen watches me.
“Oh shit, Lyra,” he mutters, cracking a finger. “Honestly, if I didn’t know he was trying to kill you, I’d say he’s trying to fuck you with that look.” He shakes his head, like evenhedoesn’t want to think too hard about it. “Creepy bastard.”
“Yeah? Well, lucky me.” I reply, jaw tight. “Guess either way I’m screwed.”
Beside him, Rowan chokes on a sound, half gasp, half laugh, lowering his book just enough to glance over, but then a voice rises from the front. Soft, uncertain, but just enough to pull our attention back to the platform.
“Welcome to the first Offensive Magic class of the new semester. I trust you’ve all been practising over the break.” Quinn’s voice floats up from below.
Relax, breathe, I tell myself as I lean back in the seat, but my body won’t let me. Threads still itch, still pushing. Every inhale makes it worse, a deep burn behind my ribs.
The rhythm inside me refuses to settle as I scan the room. No one seems to be listening. Chairs scrape, someone snorts, and low voices ripple like static. Quinn clears his throat and tries again, like his authority alone can control the noise, it doesn’t, cadets just keep talking.
The moment stretches, and I take it, eyes moving across the space, scanning for anything I could use to protect myself from Talen. A shield. A weapon. A way out.
But there’s nothing.
The lecture theatre is stripped bare—a tiered amphitheatre, an old wooden platform at the front lit by tall, arched windowsand a scattering of candles that flicker against the grey stone walls.
