Behind him, I catch Ryven’s eye, spinning his damn toothpick between his teeth, grinning like it’s already over.
Okay. Not who I expected... and that’s a problem.
I know nothing about how Elijah fights. No tells to watch for, no rhythm to predict. Every step he takes toward the centre feels like it’s closing me in, and the Threads under my skin twitch inanswer. If I misjudge him, if I push too far, the fight won’t stay non-magical for long.
Fuck, I’m not sure which is worse, him potentially putting me on the ground, or me losing control and putting us both there. Either way, I’m one bad choice from disaster.
But backing down isn’t an option. Saying no isn’t an option. The only way out is through. And I’m so close to getting out of here, alive, with the journals.
The beat in my chest picks up—nerves, magic, I don’t even know anymore which is which. But, no, I’m not getting dragged off this mat today, not limp, not unconscious, not dead. I can do this.I do this.
“And our second cadet…” Professor Weasel raises his voice again. I shift forward, legs tensing to stand. “Miss Ezrelia Caelwyn. Please join us.”
Wait—
What?
Ezzy stiffens beside me, and the heavy pulsing rhythm in my chest shatters.
But it’s not her face that guts me—she just looks confused, blinking like she misheard.
It’s Finn.
He’s gone sheet-white. Eyes wide. Frozen. Like his worst fear just stepped on to the mat and looked him dead in the eye.
No, not Ezzy. It’s supposed to be me. Why the hell would they callEzzy? This doesn’t make sense... But then I catch Ryven's face, and it hits me, fucking hard.
This isn’t a setup to fightme. They don’t trust my magic, they don’t want to go near it. But they still want to get to me. Hurt me.
My weaknesses,that’s what Strannt said—he found them. They know I’m close with Ezzy. And they know she can’t fight...
Oh god.
Elijah’s going to kill her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Ezzy stands before her name has finished echoing around the hall, her hands smoothing out her uniform like she's about to defend a thesis, not walking toward a slaughterhouse.
I look over at Finn, and I see it in his face—same as mine. That sick, cold feeling twisting through our guts. I don't know what's more painful, the fact that she doesn't realise what's coming, or that we do. But as she goes to move, his arm snaps out and catches her. Not rough, but fast, too fast to be anything but fear.
“Finn, it’s fine,” she says, as if she’s comfortinghim. But his hand remains clenched around her forearm, jaw moving like he’s trying to speak, but nothing comes out. “You know the rules.” She gently pulls from his grip. “And I don’t have any issues with Elijah. At worst, I’ll get a few bruises. Rowan always says I need to toughen up.”
Finn knows, of course he does, a Citadel boy through and through, raised on these rules, drilled on what happens next. He knows he can’t stop her. Not without making it worse. Shegives him another quiet look, a small smile, just a flicker of reassurance she doesn’t quite feel.I’ll be fine.
For a second, he doesn’t move. His fingers stay curled around her like his body hasn’t caught up to his brain. Like if he just holds on a moment longer, he can change the ending.
But he can’t.
So he lets her go, slow, reluctant. Her smile stays locked in place, but as she walks past me, I catch the curve of her cheek, the tension she’s trying to hide in her jaw.
She’s nervous.
Of course she is. I see it in the way her fingers twitch at her sides, the way her shoulders pull tight before she forces them down. My throat tightens as I swallow hard, she doesn’t know what he’s planning, but she knows enough to be scared. Scared of the bruises. The humiliation. But she thinks that’s the worst of it. And fuck, I wish she were right.
She doesn’t know what’s coming.But I do.
And I’m letting her walk straight into it.
