Despite everything, Marigold laughed. Sharp, a little bitter, but genuine. You magicked me into a French maid outfit and made me clean the common room by hand while you all watched. That was psychological warfare.
It backfired spectacularly, Elio admitted. Halfway through I couldn’t tell if I was more embarrassed, aroused, or horrified at what we were doing.
All three, Cyrus muttered. Definitely all three.
I looked up from my tablet and set it aside deliberately. This conversation required my full attention.
I should have stopped it, I said. I was a coward. The honesty wasn’t comfortable but necessary.
I’d watched the whole thing unfold from my alcove. I told myself it wasn’t my business. That interfering would make things worse. That maintaining neutrality was safer than taking a side.
But the truth was simpler. I’d been too afraid of disrupting the hierarchy to do what was right. Too concerned with not making waves. Too focused on survival through invisibility.
We were terrible to you, Elio said. You deserved better.
Yeah, Marigold agreed. I did.
Silence lingered for a moment—not uncomfortable, just acknowledging.
But you’re here now, she said. All of you. Because you chose it.
Because we chose you, Cyrus said. Once we stopped being idiots about it.
Marigold set down her empty coffee mug and started to stand. I should check on Raven and then meet with Parker about defensive updates. Then…
Marigold. I kept my voice level.
She froze halfway to standing.
Cyrus moved from the window, positioning himself between her and the door—a deliberate physical barrier. Sit down.
I have things to do…
They’ll wait, Elio said quietly. Sit down.
She sat, not because we’d ordered it but because something in our combined attention told her this mattered.
You’re doing it again, I said.
Doing what?
Trying to carry everything alone. I met her eyes. Treating yourself like a resource that needs to be maximized. Running on empty because you think stopping means failing.
Her shoulders tensed—the same tension I’d noted earlier. Direct hit.
Someone has to…
We already do, Elio interrupted. Coordination, defensive protocols, student safety, guard liaison—we’ve distributed all of it. You know this. But you keep acting like if you stop moving, everything collapses.
Because it might, she said quietly. I could hear the fear underneath everything else. If I’m not… enough. If I can’t hold this together…
You’re not holding it together alone, Cyrus said bluntly. We are. All four of us. Stop trying to manage us like we’re mission variables instead of partners.
I watched her process that and saw the moment it registered—the slight widening of her eyes, the way her breathing changed.
She’d spent months building security through multiple connections. Learning to trust that she didn’t have to do everything herself. And now, when it mattered most, she was reverting to old patterns and trying to control everything so nothing could fall apart.
I thought of yesterday, watching her push deeper into Raven’s corruption than was safe. I saw her refuse to stop even when her necromancy was straining past recommended limits. She’d committed to saving Raven completely, and nothing would have made her abort.
