Page 26 of The City Of Fractured Memory

This is not the first conversation I’ve had like this with men, and I’m certain it won’t be the last. But to his credit—unlike others who immediately start defending themselves and get angry—he nods and holds his chin high, a tinge of red on his cheeks the only sign of his embarrassment.

“You’re right, I didn’t ask you,” he concedes. “I see it now, forgive me. I’ve always been protective of you, it’s in my nature, but I never considered whether you would want that from me. I just assumed you would.”

I place my hand on his shoulder and his smile returns, knowing how much the gesture means due to my hatred of being touched.

“Thank you for trying to protect me, but from now on, what I would like is for you to stand strong by my side and let me fight my own battles. Is that okay?”

“Absolutely. Just know I have your back should you ever need it,” he offers, and I manage to crack a smile.

“Likewise,” I return, and he claps a hand to my shoulder too, giving it a slight squeeze.

“For the record, though, I have never once thought of you as weak,” he says quietly, and a small weight lifts off my shoulders that I didn’t realise I’d been carrying.

A sniffle sounds in my mind.

“That was so beautiful,” Stryx cries, and I turn away from Xavier quickly so he doesn’t spot me cringe. It’s a relief to set the record straight, but I don’t want this to turn into some sort of ‘lovey dovey’ moment—that’s never been our style.

“Come on, Oc, let’s see where that librarian friend of yours has got to–”

“Nu-uh, no way,” I cut in. “What did you just call me?”

He laughs. “Come on, don’t ruin a nice moment.”

“My name is Octavia, if you could possibly struggle all the way to the end,” I say with my hands on my hips, trying to smother my smirk.

“It’s just a nickname!” he argues, trying to hold back his laughter.

“Okay then, by that logic shall I start calling you ‘Xay–Xay’?”

His face scrunches in disgust and he throws his hands up in surrender. “Okay, fair enough, you’ve made your point, Octavia.”

I give him a smug smile before pushing past him playfully and heading towards the central desk. “Let’s figure out what in the Voyd is taking Cyril so long.”

My smile slips from my face and the further we walk, the more my senses start to overwhelm me, an odd sensation prickling up my spine.

The Archives have gone too still.

Doom slowly presses in on me, but I can’t tell whether to trust my gut, or if it’s just my Shadow’s presence making me so tense.

Turn left.

I halt abruptly at a junction in the stacks, causing Xavier to nearly walk into me.

“What’s wrong? Forget your way?” he chuckles as he strides past me, misunderstanding my predicament. I remain still as the Shadow inches closer.

Turn left, or your bones will break.

I swallow hard.

“Octavia?” Stryx’s small voice comes to me, distracting me enough that I can just about stamp down on the dread rising within me. I shake my head to try and rid myself of the horrible demands and straighten my shoulders, forcing myself to turn right.

“I’m okay,” I whisper back to her, wishing to believe it.

I try to block out the oppressive sense of doom and focus on putting one step in front of the other. Cyril vanished into the restricted stores over an hour ago, promising to fetch what we need. The man lives for rules and order; tardiness isn’t his vice. I need to make sure everything is okay.

Xavier looks back at my concerned face with a frown, arms folded, pretending calm. “Don’t panic, he’s old. Old men move slowly.” But his voice lacks conviction.

I nod unconvincingly as I step up to his side, but before either of us can speak further, a raw, panicked scream tears through the silence.