“Group Eight! You lucky bastards.” The booming voice belongs to the taller officer—the one built like a wall, dark flawless skin, and a grin that dares you to challenge it. “You just got assigned the best officer this place has to offer. You’re welcome.” He turns to face us, the rough-cut stone on his rope necklace catching the light. “I’m Officer Lucien Thornviel,” he calls. “And this is Officer Nyrek Strannt.”
Strannt steps forward like he’s been waiting for the spotlight all morning, twitchy, with the eager stiffness of someone trying too hard to look important. Dry skin, short hair that’s either brown or just dirty enough to look like it. He’s got that weaselly vibe, like the kind of guy who’d sell you out before you finish blinking.
“You will probably meet his father,” Lucien continues. “Professor Strannt, for Non-Magical Combat training later this week. Now circle up. Let’s see what kind of mess I’ve been handed.”
Surprisingly, Rowan moves first. The other two cadets shift with him and I fall in at the tail, keeping my eyes on everyone’s backs.
Still no sign of Ryven. Maybe, if I’m lucky, he won’t show, and I’ll get through this day in one piece. But that hope doesn’t last long as the other cadet—the one I’m pretty sure is Elijah—keeps looking at me like he’s picturing something he’d enjoy. Something that definitely wouldn’t end well for me...
“Right,” Lucien says, tone shifting into something more official. “First Innerland training assignment. You’ll follow our routine patrol, observe treaty enforcement and any disturbances that come up. Watch, learn, and keep your mouth fucking shut unless ordered otherwise.” His gaze cuts to me, and my spine straightens before I even register the shift. “And don’t think your actions today will go unnoticed,” he adds, smirk spreading. “I’ve read your files and today you will be assessed from start to finish. Every step. Every mistake. And if you mess up. Punishment will be immediate.”
My gut tightens. Shit, does he know? Would Talen have told him about finding me in the tunnels? About the truce?
Lucien doesn’t blink, just keeps looking and then Beth turns too, like his attention gave her permission. Her gaze lands on mine, fierce, and my chest tightens on instinct. Fuck, she’s beautiful. Even the scar that slices from brow to eye doesn’t ruin it. If anything, it makes her sexier.
There’s a small protective flicker from my Threads, but it’s nothing compared to usual, still without thinking, my eyes dart to Rowan. I don’t even know what I’m looking for—backup? A buffer? But if I lean on him now, I’ll look exposed, weak. So I hold my ground and turn back to Beth.
Then—
Boots scuff behind us, lazy and uneven as Ryven barrels in, flushed and rumpled like he just rolled out of bed and sprinted the whole way here. Collar skewed, shirt half-buttoned, toothpick in his mouth. His eyes are down, shoulders tight, the picture of someone bracing for a tongue-lashing—until they lift and catch on me, and light up—too fast, too bright.
Heat crawls up my neck before I can stop it, fingers curl. Shit. He’s here. Of course he is, I knew it was coming, but seeing him makes it real.
I should keep my head down, don’t react, don’t give him a reason to come for me. Just get through the day. Quiet, controlled, invisible. But I can’t look weak. Not in front of him, not in front of them—Talen’s crew, already watching.
So when his eyes lock on mine and he turns to starts closing the distance, I don’t look away. I hold it. Even though every instinct says run.
“Really?” Lucien snaps towards him. “Late, dishevelled, and you think I won’t notice?”
Ryven freezes mid-step, caught halfway toward me. His mouth opens like he might speak, might still risk it, but then clamps shut. Hard.
Lucien steps in fast, five precise strides that land like a warning, the stone at his neck swinging with the force of it, catching light as it thuds back against his chest.
“You think this is optional?” He bellows. “That you can stroll in, half-dressed and half-aware, and I won’t make an example out of you?”
Ryven’s head jerks in a quick shake, too quick.
Lucien doesn’t blink. Doesn’t back off. “Since you’re so eager to start the day on the wrong foot, you’ll spend it glued to Officer Strannt side. Every step. Every task. Every command.” Then he turns, flicks a mocking grin toward the short, weaselly officer beside him. “Strannt, congrats. You just got a new girlfriend for the day.”
Beside him, Strannt’s smile spreads slow and sour as he watches Ryven walk toward him, like he’s already working out where to crack him open and how to stack the pieces after.
“You’re fucking lucky Veirmont isn’t here,” Lucien adds, louder now, dragging all our attention back. “Last cadet who showed up late... no one’s seen them since. Veirmont doesn’t just follow the Codex. He breathes it.”
I risk a glance at Ryven. For a second, he meets my eyes. His mouth tightens around his toothpick, but he looks away. Yeah. He knows. He’s not getting near me today, not with Strannt breathing down his neck.
“Don’t worry, Bloom,” Lucien adds, not missing a beat. “You won’t be alone today either. Veirmont’s made it very clear you’reonlyhis to enjoy. So I’ve been strictly ordered to make sure no one gets to play with you before he does.” He tosses a loaded glance at Ryven, then lets it settle back on me. Slow. Smug. “Guess that means I’ll beyourshadow for the day.”
Fuck. So much for staying low and avoiding trouble.
Movement flickers ahead—Beth turns, flashes me that same slow, bitchy smile. My jaw locks. Magic flickers, dull and distant thanks to the bloody duck.
I want to say something—hell, even an eye roll would feel good. But I don’t. Because attention is currency here. And I can’t afford the cost. Not today. Not with all three of them already eyeing me like I’m the day’s main event.
So I grit my teeth, face forward and follow Lucien as we head out.
The smell hits first—fresh-cutgrass, crushed mint, chimney smoke. It clings to the Air Realm’s alleys, cool, sharp, surgically clean. Every stone scrubbed, every line too straight. Just like it’s always been. Like the whole realm was built to convince you everything’s fine. Polished lies and curated comfort, that’s all this place is.
Still, it’s funny how fast some things change. Last week I was here stealing Spice for Rhiann, apples for Bren, walking these same streets like I didn’t have a care in the world.
