“Be serious, Finn,” she snaps. “We all know what Veirmont,the Nightrose,is capable of...”
“I know, I’m just saying, if he wanted to kill her, I’m pretty sure he would’ve done it by now.” He turns to me, no trace of a joke in his face, just calling it like it is. “No offence.”
“None taken,” I reply, remembering how easily Talen snapped that cadet’s neck. How easily it could have been mine. Beth said he was putting him out of his misery, doing what no one else would. But still. It was too fast. Too easy. I’ve got no chance against that.
Ezzy scoffs at Finn, then turns toward me, studying my face. She opens her mouth?—
Shit, I know what’s coming. Questions. The kind that sound gentle at first,but they dig. Maybe I just let her ask. See what she wants to say. Maybe she won’t push too far.... I could skim around the edges, twist the truth just enough to stay safe. But I saw the note she left me this morning. She wants to talk. Liketalk-talk.
And I don’t have the control for that right now, not when we just learnt how to spin magical strings of truth from our mouths. Not when my Threads are twitching under my skin, barely restrained—held down by a pulsing ankle and my last scraps of willpower.
I don’t want to lie to her. God, I hate that I even feel like I have to. But until I figure out what’s happening—whatTalenis really playing at—I can’t risk her getting pulled into it. I don't want anyone I care about getting caught in the crossfire.
I need to redirect. Fast. Get her talking about anything else, anything but Talen, or the interrogation cell, or dragons.
“Why are there no female officers or professors around here?” I blurt.
Finn snorts. “None are good enough.”
Ezzy’s head whips around to him. “Oh, that’s rich. Didn’t stop you from drooling over Beth’sbrilliant abilitiesthe other day.”
And they’re off.Perfect.
They keep bickering—snarky comments flying fast—but somehow, between the insults, Ezzy manages to lecture me on the Citadel’s gender benefits.
Apparently, most women, if not all, end up as researchers. She says that the Citadel wants to help cultivate harmony. Stability. So if you’re female and in a relationship by graduation, you’re encouraged to settle down and have kids.
They even incentivise it, housing, childcare, a neat little future with soft corners. But you don’t get to be an officer. You don’t teach. You get steered into research, praised for yournurturing priorities, and left to raise the next generation of soldiers.
A shiver slips down my spine before I can stop it, magic flaring, anger prickling just beneath my skin. I try shifting in my chair, the cold wood biting into the back of my thigh, but it doesn’t help.
Ezzy thinks it’s thoughtful, of course she does. The Citadel’s poison always goes down easier when it tastes like stability. Said it helps keep families together. Said it’s about protecting what matters.
But really it’s about control. Breed loyalty, raise obedience. Indoctrination by bloodline. Because the offspring? They’re already guaranteed places at the Citadel the moment they’re born. Raised inside the system, shaped by it from the first breath.
But not before graduation. Oh no, until then, they don’t want any accidents that could get in the way of theirprocess. So they ever so kindly spike our food with birth control... I practically choked at that one.
Finn jumped in with a cheeky grin to let us know he wasn’t complaining about that rule, but Ezzy wiped the look clean off his face by pointing out he’d need to actually be sleeping with someone to get them pregnant.
“That’s why we have the Union Clause,” she says, turning away from Finn. “It protects vital relationships. So after graduation, people can stay together and have families, without getting split up. It’s one of the oldest rules, and one they’ll never break. Once you’re in an open, committed relationship, they won’t separate you. Theycan’t.” She smiles a little, eyes distant, like she’s seeing it already. The house. The safety. The neat little life she’s been told to want. “It’s kind of... romantic.”
Romantic? It’s a breeding program, livestock control. A way to ensure loyalty from the womb. God, but she doesn’t seem to know the difference.
“Look who it is,” Finn interrupts, leaning across me and nodding toward the mat below.
Ryven strolls in like he’s late on purpose, toothpick dangling from his mouth, flanked by his buddy from yesterday—Elijah, and the girl I nearly choked to death during my first magicalDemonstration. The one who, of course, turns out to be Elijah’s sister. Because why wouldn’t she be?
Ryven strolls right up to Strannt. And they laugh. Chatting, grinning. Like they’ve been friends for years.
What the hell?
Yesterday on patrol, they looked ready to strangle each other. Now they’re joking around like old drinking buddies? It doesn’t make sense.
Strannt shifts, just slightly, turns halfway toward the stands and lifts his hand and points. Ryven follows the gesture, his gaze trailing up until it finds mine.
Oh fuck.
No, no, no. They’ve teamed up. They’ve decided to make up and bond over a shared interest—me.
