Ten minuteslater and I’mfinallyback in the dorm. Technically a Citadel-issued box with a bed, but whatever—we’re calling it a dorm. It’s got four walls and a door, and after the day I’ve had? That’s all I need to not completely lose my shit.
But I probably only have ten minutes or so to pull myself together before Ezzy gets back. That’s it. Ten minutes to strip the day off my skin and Talen out of my head. Because I’m not in the mood for small talk. Not tonight. Not when I don't have the duck.
Shifting my weight, I slip free of Rowan’s grip, foot still throbbing, and open the door.
He’d walked me all the way back, which surprised me, but I'm glad he did. My ankle was mostly fine now, I probably could’ve made it on my own but I didn’t turn down the company because my Threads by that point had recharged, lashing out just beneath the surface, like they were waiting for any excuse. I just needed to make it back to the dorm before anything set them off again.
We didn’t talk. I think he was too nervous to ask what happens inside those cells, behind those doors. Easier to pretend. Easier not to know.
On the way through the tunnels, we rounded a corner and slammed straight into Beth, shoulder-first. She jolted back, eyes wide—then caught herself. Guilt flashed across her face, tooquick to hide, like she’d skipped the interrogation chamber and taken a longer way on purpose.
She flicked a glance my way, flashed a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, then slipped something glass and glinting into her jacket pocket. And without a word, she turned and headed back toward the Citadel, boots striking sharp against stone. She walked fast, faster than us, and vanished around the next bend before we could say a thing.
“Do you want me to stay?” Rowan asks hovering in the hall outside the dorm. “Help you wrap your foot or… something?”
I freeze. That’s all it takes. Just one question, and my body locks up like it’s waiting for a trap to spring.
I actually want him to stay. God, I want something about today to be normal. Safe. Human. But if I let him in now, if I let someone see what I’m holding back—I might lose my grip completely.
So I shake my head, already reaching for the door. “No. I’ll be fine.”
He hesitates, then nods and leaves, turning down the hall.
It’s just me, but I don’t stay long, just grab a towel and head straight for the bathing chambers, shoulders tight, steps fast.
The air inside is thick with heat and the low sound of running water, other voices murmuring beyond thin curtains. I keep my head down, find a space, and close the fabric behind me—it hides nothing.
The uniform comes off fast, tossed like something foul, white fabric lands in a heap by the drain. Water on. Scalding.
I scrub hard—knuckles raw, nails biting skin—until my shoulders sting and steam fogs the mirror. Still, no matter how hot the water gets. No matter how much skin I take with it.He’sstill there. His hands burned into my ribs, my spine, the soft space just beneath my breasts.
Pressure builds at my scalp as I rake my fingers through my hair, like I can claw the memories out by force. How he touched me like he had a right to me, that I didn’t stop him. Couldn’t. How they watched from outside. How my body, my pathetic, desperate body… leaned in anyway. And worse yet, how quickly he recoiled, the look on his face after.Disgust.
What the hell was I thinking?
My knees give, and I slide down the wall, hitting the basin hard enough to jar my teeth. Water beats down in a steady, scalding stream, soaking my hair, my face, everything—and I just sit there. Let it drown the silence.
I know I said one month, head down, survive this place. Get the journals. Get out and back to Bren.
And that’s still the plan. It has to be.
But if dragons are breaching the Innerland Veils—if they’re crossing boarders that were supposed to be sealed centuries ago—then there’s nothing stopping them from turning the Outerlands to ash next. To dust. To nothing. Bren, Rhiann, Nessi... they won’t survive what’s coming.
My arms wrap tight around my body, like that alone might hold me together. I need answers but the one person who might have them—the one person who could actually tell me what the hell is going on—is the same bastard I’m supposed to be staying the hell away from. Talen. The fucking Nightrose.
I saw him. Handing out those envelopes like secrets, one of them to the tailor. The same tailor with that strange mark scorched into his door. The same shop that just so happened to be the only one the dragon burned to ash. That can’t be coincidence. Can it?
And that dragon… its eyes, hollow and black, and when it came for me, when I thought I was dead,hecalled it off.
Saved me. Why?
None of it makes sense. One minute, he threatens to kill me. Next, he risks his life to save mine? Lying to Strannt and Lucien to protect me? People don’t just switch sides like that, not unless they’re after something. And that’s what’s gnawing at me.
But whatever he’s after, I must have it. Otherwise I’d be dead already. Right? Which means I have leverage....
I can’t leave here empty handed, I need those answers. I need to go home prepared if something is coming. And that starts with Talen, that starts with theNightrose.
I’ve done everything to stay out of its reach. But maybe that’s the mistake. Maybe I need to step closer, let it trap me, lethimtrap me.
