At first, I thought it might be another chance to try and escape this hellhole, but that hope died fast. Ezzy said each cadet is assigned to an officer, and they never take their eyes off you.
Not that it matters. Not that any of these Citadel-drunk loyalists would even think of leaving.They’ve been buzzing for days, bets flying, laughter echoing through the food halls like the training assignment’s some kind of exciting game.
But my Threads haven’t stopped twitching.
There’s a pressure building under my skin, something slow and coiled that won’t settle. Maybe it’s nothing. Just nerves. Still... I can’t shake the feeling that something’s coming, and that Ezzy’s bloody duck, with its now-broken wing, won’t be enough to stop it.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The Citadel courtyard hums with tension, boots scuff over stone, cadets packed shoulder to shoulder as they cluster into groups for this morning's training assignment. Shadowing officers on their patrols.
A jolting pull runs down my arm as I swing my pack over one shoulder. Still a bit sore, but whatever ointment Ezzy had in her kit worked like a charm—the burn from last week’s Demonstration with Ryven is almost gone. I added more this morning just in case. It smells sharp—herby and bitter—but it fades under the crisp scent of fresh-pressed uniforms and cold winter air as I scan around for Rowan and our group.
There are five of us in total. Me, Rowan, a girl called Beth—who, according to Finn over breakfast, is the kind of girl you definitely think about in the shower, at which point Ezzy called him a pig and stormed off. And then there’s a guy called Elijah, and yeah.Ryven.
So fucking typicalhe’sin my group. Although he hasn’t made a move since that class, I still feel him. Like he’s just waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.
Usually, my Threads would be flaring like crazy by this point, just seeing his name posted next to mine, but I put my ego aside and I have Ezzy’s duck with me at all times now.
Rowan spots me across the courtyard and gives a quick nod. He’s leaning against a pillar, half in shadow, already positioning himself away from the group—like he’s not interested in getting dragged into anyone’s mess. Can’t blame him, I need to do the same.
Stay low, stay in control. Don’t give Ryven anything. No fear, no weakness, no excuse to come for me. Just get through the goddamn assignment and rip off this symbolic piece of shit they call a patrol uniform before it strangles the last thread of dignity out of me.
It’s almost identical in every way to our combat blacks, same cut, same fabric, except it’s inwhite.
The Citadel’s favourite lie, change the colour, change the story. That way, we’re not soldiers anymore. We’re symbols, harmless, noble, like we’re here to help.
I tug at the stiff collar and try not to choke on the hypocrisy.
Three weeks left. Just three more fucking weeks.
But at least there’s one thing to be grateful for this morning. No sign of the Nightrose. Instead, the two officers I've been assigned to are Lucien Thornviel and Nyrek Strannt. Thank fuck. Talen’s already invaded enough of my nights—uninvited, unwanted.
Last night I woke up furious, humiliated and drenched in shame. Because the sickest part? It’s not even him doing it, it’sme. My own twisted mind, letting him touch me. Him, who stands for everything I hate. Power without mercy. Control without consent. But still I can’t stop them coming.
A shiver rolls down my spine; could be the winter chill, could be the echo of last night’s dream. Either way, I pull my sleeves down and keep walking.
Near the edge, the crowd thins to a small knot of cadets and officers, my group for today. At first, nothing jumps out. They’re spaced just far enough apart to make things uneasy, not talking, not relaxed. Rowan stands at the fringe, quiet and unreadable, eyes fixed somewhere past the horizon. No sign of Ryven. Good. Let’s keep it that way.
But as I get closer, details start to land—two male officers, one short, one tall, and a brunette female cadet. Familiar shapes, familiar posture and not the welcome kind.Talen’s crew.Shit.
The taller officer—broad-shouldered, dark flawless skin, handsome in that polished, self-aware kind of way—is the same officer who whispered something to Talen about me on my first day in the courtyard.
He’s dressed in Citadel whites, but wears a rope necklace strung with a single dull stone. It’s half-tucked under his jacket, just visible enough to catch the light if you're looking close enough. Which most of the girls here are. He watches them back, eyeing every female that passes like he’s picking from a menu.
One of the girls walking by flashes him a quick, flirtatious smile. The shorter officer tries to jump in, throws her a wink back, but her smile drops, face twisting as she looks away fast.
Beside them, the brunette just stares, arms crossed, unimpressed. Lethal cheekbones, a resting bitch face straight out of a textbook. Flawless in every way, except for the thin scar slicing from her right brow to the corner of her eye.
Yeah. That’s gotta be Beth.
I admit, I can see why Finn thinks about her in the shower, why Ezzy would be so jealous, and also why Talen couldn’t stop staring at her.
She catches me looking and flashes a glare pointed enough to skin a rabbit.Great. Can't wait to spend the rest of the day with her.
“Not exactly thrilled about this group either.” Rowan says, suddenly at my side. I jump but he pretends not to notice as he nods towards them. “Too much ego. Too much magic. And they all act like they have something to prove. Not the safest combination… So, I’m actually glad to see you here.” He smiles. I raise a brow. “Levels the playing field a bit.”
I can’t tell if he’s being serious or joking, but before I can reply, a piercing whistle cuts through the noise?—
