Her silence is no more than I deserve for everything I did.
Distracted by trying to hold down all the grief, guilt, and memories that the thoughts bring with them—before Ahria can see any of it on my face—I don’t even realise the time until the bitter smell of burnt bread fills the air.
“Shit.” My hands move fast, grabbing a rag and yanking the solid oven door open, but the second I go to reach inside, everything in me stalls at the sight of the flames below. “Uh, Ezzy,” I call quickly. “Can you grab these?”
Without question, she hurries over and slides the tray out with a hard pull.
At first, I don't understand why she didn't do it earlier—she must have noticed the smell—but then my chest sinks. Since she woke last week, she won't even act unless someone tells her to. She only waits. Listens. Follows.
“Lyra—”
Magda’s voice slices through the moment, and I spin to face her, already knowing before she even opens her mouth why she’s here.
Fuck.
I’m late for teaching.
Over the following weeks,the familiar itch beneath my skin only continues to build as I try to keep control and stay patient.
Patient at night as I lie awake above the Letter-threader, waiting for sleep that hardly comes.
Patient training with Lucien and Reya. They both insist I'm making progress, but with Blood Moon only a month away, it doesn't feel nearly fast enough.
Patient with Ezzy, giving her the time and space Neeve keeps saying she needs.
And patient enough not to bloody hurl One-eyed Lee across the Briefing Tentevery time he opens his goddamn mouth.
Unfortunately, my self-control slips after his latest Outerlander jab and with a quick flick of my Threads, I swipe his chair out from beneath him just as he sits down. He hits the floor hard, and I don't quite manage to hide my smirk.
Apparently, Magda notices both.
“There are many ways to prove yourself here, Lyra,” she informs me with a soothing smile after everyone else has left. “And most of them have nothing to do with winning a fight. More to do with knowing when not to start one.”
Embarrassment crawls up my neck, because she’s right.
Merrin might have put me in charge of the new recruits, but every time Lee gets under my skin and I rise to the bait, I only reinforce exactly what half of them already think—that I’m just a reckless Outerlander with a temper, not someone fit to lead.
And it’s stupid, because I know they want to learn this stuff. It’s not the lessons they have a problem with.
It's me.
Still, I don’t let myself dwell on it. I swallow the embarrassment and come back the next day anyway.
And the next and the next.
Because I’m determined to prove them wrong. I’m not about to break that easily.
Not with Ahria watching.
And not when Darren and Reya are waiting outside after each session—Darren to collect Neeve, Reya to collect me.
“Move,” Reya orders during training one afternoon, fire lashing toward me fast enough that heat blasts across my face.
“I am moving!” I shout back, throwing up my Air Threads to block the flames pressing in around me.
“No, you’re distracted.”
My jaw stiffens because she's right. I am distracted. But surprisingly, it's not her fire throwing me off—I guess the sessions with Dave the Dick actually helped with my fear. No, now it's the graphic images of Talen fucking her against a wall that keep flashing through my mind every time I look at her, making it damn near impossible to stay focused, let alone stay in control.
