“Well…” I say, “he wasn’t around much... considering he died before I was born.” Rowan opens his mouth, but I cut him off before he can apologise. “Don’t. It’s fine. I’m fine. It was a long time ago, scars healed. Besides, he was an Outerlander and apparently a total prick.”
A sharp bark from behind cuts through the moment, Lucien’s voice edged with impatience, shouting at Strannt to hurry the fuck up. Strannt waves him off without looking, all puffed-up authority, claiming his father told him to personally inspect this guy’s stall like it’s some top-secret mission.
I take the interruption for what it is, a clean exit ramp before I end up handing Rowan my entire life story.
“Anyway,” I mutter, shifting gears hard. “What’s your deal? With the Citadel, I mean. Why’d you enlist?”
He pauses, brow lifting. Then, with a shrug: “I never wanted to enlist.” No self-pity. Just fact. “Believe it or not, I wanted to work with kids. Still do. My mum was a teacher. I figured I’d follow in her footsteps. Basic magic, teach little ones to read their Threads. I always thought I’d stay out of this stuff, live somewhere quiet, adopt some children of my own.”
His voice catches, just for a second, almost too soft to notice. Then it’s gone.
“Ezzy’s my cousin.” He continues. “But she’s more like a little sister to me. My parents also died when I was young, her family practically raised me. We grew up together. She’s always had her eye on the Citadel’s Threads research program. Brilliant with her magic since we were kids, flawless academic track record. So I wasn’t worried about that...”
He exhales once, eyes flicking towards Strannt. “It was everything else, everyone else. I tend to think more...long-termthan her, unless it’s grades. But the Citadel isn’t just tests and lectures, it’s ruthless. And Ezzy… she still thinks everything broken can be fixed.” There's a subtle crack in his voice. “So I enlisted the same year. To keep an eye on her. Help prepare her. Make sure she actually graduates.”
Beside us, Lucien throws another jab toward Strannt, voice laced with frustration. We both flinch; I’d nearly forgotten he was even there.
Sothat’show Ezzy’s survived this place. With all her sunshine smiles and textbook optimism. Rowan.
For a moment, I don’t move, caught off guard by how honest he is. With me. An Outerlander he owes nothing to. I don’t get him. That kind of openness... it throws me off balance.
“Why are you telling me this?” I question, eyes narrow.
He just shrugs again, casual, confident. “I told you, I’m a good judge of character. And you seem… honest. Blunt, yeah, but honest. And you’ll do right by Ezzy.”
Guilt creeps in fast, thick and sour in my chest. I look away before it starts writing itself across my face. Grasping for the nearest conversational exit, I blurt, “So, what’s her deal with Finn?”
A corner of his mouth lifts “That’s... complicated.”
“So they’re fucking?”
He drops his head back and laughs, an actual laugh. Full, real and startling. It’s the first time I’ve seen him crack that stoic shell since I got here.
“No.” He grins. “Andthat’sthe bloody problem.”
“Strannt!” Lucien’s shout cracks through the alley like a whip. “Enough with the fucking fish! Either you’re done or I make you done!”
Strannt—who’s still holding a fish like it might confess a Treaty Infringement—stiffens, shoulders jerking like a dog yanked by his owners leash. Whatever smug retort he had brewing dies fast.
“We’re moving,” Lucien’s already waving the group forward, and just like that we’re cadets back on patrol again.
Because for half a second, I’d almost forgotten. What I’m wearing, what I’m doing here. What I’ve agreed to become. Rowan walks behind me, quiet again, but something’s shifted. I don’t just tolerate his company anymore, I actually seem to enjoy it. And not just because he’s still a convenient wall between me and Lucien.
Didn’t see that coming. Liking him, even a little? Yeah... that’s new. Maybe today won’t be complete shit.
We keep walking as the alley ends and we spill into a wide, sun-bright square. Market stalls crammed edge to edge, canvas flapping, herbs dangling from twine.
Strannt’s already across the other side, running his mouth at another poor merchant. Voices rise, hands start moving. Lucien shoves past all of us, sharp elbows and sharper curses, muttering to someone behind us about keeping an eye on us while he cleans up Strannt’s shit—again.
I take a step forward but the smell hits hard. Rosemary, lemon peel and clove. Too familiar, my stomach turns, I know this place...
Three stalls down from the apothecary, and there it is. Same crooked awning. Rust-red canvas, faded at the edges. Shelves lined with bright powdered Spice, all gleaming like they’ve been waiting for me.
I’ve never come from this direction before. Didn’t realise we were so close.
“Everything alright?” Rowan asks, noticing my hesitation.
“Yeah... maybe a stone in my boot or something. You go ahead, won’t be a minute.”
