"Enough," she said, her voice low but carrying."Roran has saved this academy time and again.He deserves honor and respect, not mere mercy.Your hatred of the Isle Wardens blinds you to the truth of the matter."
"Our hatred of an enemy that has laid waste to the continent?"Virek replied, his voice dripping with scorn.
"Roran—and the people in that prison camp—have done no such thing," Thalia retorted, her hands trembling with suppressed anger.“They aren’t warriors.They’re refugees.”
Murmurs rose from the crowd, some agreeing, most condemning.The divide was palpable—those who had suffered directly at Warden hands against those who feared the new, greater threat.Northern traditionalists against Southern pragmatists.Southerners who feared Northern retribution against those whose prejudices were less ingrained.The whispers cut off abruptly when Wolfe rose from her seat, her eyes blazing with a cold fire that made even Thalia's resolve waver.
"You've been given more leniency than most would have," Wolfe said, the edge in her voice sharper than any blade."I suggest you stop mistaking that for authority."
Thalia opened her mouth to reply, but a movement across the hall caught her attention.Kaine stood near the kitchen entrance, his imposing frame rigid with tension.He met her eyes and shook his head subtly, a warning in his ice-blue gaze.Thalia hesitated, the retort dying on her lips.
Wolfe took her silence as submission and pressed her advantage."You would do well to remember your place, Greenspire.After your transgressions, you are fortunate to walk free within Frostforge's walls at all."She leaned forward, hands braced against the table, her voice lowered but still carrying through the silence."Your record should have seen you imprisoned—or worse.You will not further embarrass or endanger this academy with your recklessness."
A murmur rippled through the mess hall—half satisfaction, half unease.Thalia's cheeks burned, but she refused to look away, matching Wolfe's stare even as humiliation coursed through her.
"You are dismissed," Wolfe said, the finality in her tone brooking no argument.
For a moment, Thalia remained frozen, pride warring with prudence.Then, without a word, she turned and walked back through the sea of tables.She kept her head high, her stride measured, ignoring the open stares of students and soldiers.Some gazes held sympathy, others scorn, but most were simply wary—watching to see what would become of the Southern girl who dared challenge the War Council.
Thalia pushed through the heavy wooden doors and stepped into the relative quiet of the stone corridor beyond.The chill air struck her flushed face like a slap.She leaned against the wall, eyes closed, drawing long breaths to steady herself.
The door creaked open behind her.Footsteps approached, hesitant but familiar.
"Thalia."Roran's voice was soft with concern."I'm sorry I couldn't defend you properly in there."
She opened her eyes to find him standing before her, his expression pained.The anger that had been building in her chest suddenly found its target.
"You couldn't have defended me," she said bitterly."You have the wrong blood."
The words hung between them, sharp as broken glass.Roran flinched as though she had struck him, and immediate regret washed over her.She reached for his hand, her fingers finding his.
"I didn't mean that," she said quickly, squeezing his hand."Not the way it sounded.You know I don't see it that way—not at all.But they do.The Council does.And you can't forget that, or you risk what little standing you have."
His expression softened, though the hurt didn't entirely leave his eyes."I know," he said."But watching them treat you that way, after everything you've done, everything you've sacrificed—"
"It doesn't matter," Thalia interrupted, though the words tasted like a lie."What matters is finding another way to get through to them.The Wardens can't stay imprisoned while we face this threat.We need every resource, every ally.The people of the archipelago know more about the Deep Tide than we do.If we’re to have a fighting chance, we need to—"
“I know.”Roran's fingers tightened around hers."We'll find a way," he promised."Together."
Thalia looked into his dark eyes, finding there the same determination she felt burning in her own chest.Despite everything—the demotion, the public humiliation, the seemingly insurmountable barriers before them—she wasn't alone.Not while she had Roran, Kaine, Ashe, and the others who had taken that oath with her.
`The muffled din of the mess hall echoed faintly behind them, hundreds of voices rising and falling like waves against a distant shore.But out here, in this quiet corridor, Thalia found a moment of peace in Roran's presence.A reminder of what they were fighting for.A promise that, whatever came next, they would face it as one.
She leaned toward him, pressing against his chest.
"Together," she agreed, the word a vow as binding as any oath.
CHAPTER THREE
Dirty water sloshed against the flagstones as Thalia dragged her mop across the endless expanse of Frostforge's eastern corridor.The acrid sting of lye burned her nostrils, its harsh scent a constant reminder of how far she had fallen.Five years of blood and sacrifice, of forging her body into a weapon and her mind into a shield, reduced to this—scrubbing floors while the darkness crept ever closer to their shores.
Her knuckles whitened around the wooden handle as a pair of Northern cadets strode past, their boots leaving muddy prints across her half-dried work without so much as a glance of acknowledgment.
Thalia bit her tongue until she tasted copper.Once, such disrespect would have earned these first-years a week of night watches on the Crystalline plateau.Now, she was beneath their notice—a cautionary tale, a whispered warning of what happened to those who defied the Council's will.
She plunged the mop into the bucket with unnecessary force, sending a spray of dirty water across the stones.The Council had made their judgment clear in yesterday's confrontation.Her humiliation in the mess hall still burned fresh in her memory—Wolfe's cutting dismissal, Virek's cold disdain, the weight of hundreds of stares as she walked away with her dignity in tatters.And for what?For daring to suggest that survival might require cooperation with their supposed enemies?
The sound of quick, light footsteps pulled Thalia from her brooding.Luna appeared around the corner, her short dreadlocks adorned with tiny metal rings that caught the torchlight as she moved.Despite everything, Thalia felt herself smile at the sight of her friend—Luna's presence had been a constant comfort since their first year at Frostforge.
