Chapter 2 #3
The black material of his uniform clung to his muscled legs.
I was a twenty-four-year-old virgin. No one wanted to sleep with capital C crazy.
Based on the bulge between his legs, women with more experience than me would be drooling.
He’d rolled up his tunic sleeves, exposing a bit of his defined biceps.
I definitely didn’t let my gaze linger on his mostly undone tunic, exposing a little hair on his hard chest.
He pushed off the building, making the sword and knives strapped to his person stand out. The clicking of his weapons snapped me back to ‘reality.’ Ha, reality.
“Ah, what?” I stammered.
The man grinned, flexing his back. “The Castle’s buzzing with rumors. Apparently, a new dude fought his own magic.” He wiggled his thick white eyebrows. “Magic so strong it created the shape of a dinosaur or a mythical dragon, depending on who you ask.”
I shrugged. “Well, rumors. You know how it is.”
“They can be exaggerated,” he said, waving his hand flippantly.
I pursed my lips, disappointed he didn’t grunt like his TV counterpart. I didn’t need to gossip with Miss Q about myself.
“I was on gate duty.” He grinned, making his eyes crinkle. “So, I didn’t get to see it.”
My brain scrambled with his flirty tone.
I suddenly couldn’t remember what I’d said about Miss Q, and my mouth opened.
“Well, I had front-row seats, and the acting was terrible.” I threw my hands up in the air.
“They need to work on their casting. And get more colorful props. Maybe sacrifice something to the weather gods. Sun would have helped a lot. You didn’t miss much. ”
My heart raced as I waited for his reaction.
Laughter bubbled out of his chest, and a smile split my face. The gray fog suddenly didn’t seem quite so bad.
“Angela’s waiting for you,” the man said, pushing away from me and striding forward.
I followed, and a low wooden building appeared after only a few steps.
“Ah, not Hope?” I asked, grasping for the name Chancellor Morgen had given me.
The man hesitated. Before he could speak, the door opened with a loud bang.
A slender woman, maybe a few years older than me, glared at the man.
Braids held her wavy blonde locks back from an oval face with sharp features.
A rich red velvet gown hugged her curves.
Like my new friend, the cold didn’t seem to bother her in the least.
“We,” she stressed the word, “are here to get you set up.” She slid to the man’s side, and he wrapped his arm around her waist before dutifully bending and placing a kiss on her cheek.
I wrinkled my nose. Of course, he was taken—er—not real in the first place. Damn it.
The woman pointed at the door, and I hurried through it.
“My name’s Angela Moore,” the woman introduced herself in a sedate alto. “This is one of my suitors, my sixth suitor, to be exact.” She preened. “Rowan Tate.”
I raised an eyebrow. The word suitor hadn’t been used in years, but the pair seemed to be a couple. So, if Rowan was number six, well, then good for Angela?
Angela took a seat behind a massive desk in the corner, and Rowan leaned against the door we came in, the same way he’d stood at my side after scaring me.
He was clearly taken, but I wasn’t ready for our interaction to end. And none of this was real, so…
“So, is leaning a big pastime here?” I asked cheekily.
Rowan grinned. “I enjoy testing the strength of the walls.”
I chuckled, and Rowan smiled. His eyes lit up, making his face even more handsome. My thoughts scattered into the wind.
“Ahem. According to your information”—Angela picked up a glowing square with what looked like writing on it—“you have no family and no money.”
She made the sit gesture again, her eyes narrowed.
I glanced at Rowan. Not that any of my other scenarios went well, but maybe I hadn’t had the right motivation. Miss Q was me, right? So, this was my delusion. I could do whatever I wanted.
I could use Rowan as a chair.
Instead of doing what I was told, I grinned at Rowan and motioned for him to sit.
The man gave me a quizzical look, but pushed off the wall and sat.
Before I could lose my nerve, I spun, wiggled my ass once, and made myself comfortable on his thighs, not quite brave enough to press myself into his chest.
Angela’s face turned red and her eyes bugged. “What do you think you’re doing?”
I blinked a few times. “The chair looked cold.” I honestly wasn’t sure I could have said anything dumber, but here we were.
Angela’s jaw dropped, and the room went deathly silent.
The tightness of Rowan’s thighs hardened under my ass.
I suddenly had no idea what to do next. I’d never kissed a guy.
Should I spin and pucker? Scoot back and plaster myself to his chest?
Where was this going? Angela was still gaping at us. Did Rowan want me on his lap?
He wasn’t real, so it shouldn’t matter.
But he felt real.
And that was the problem with all of this.
My excitement shifted to unease.
As if feeling the change in my emotions, Rowan patted my shoulder. “I believe the chair is nice and warm for you now.”
I bolted out of his lap and buried my face as far into my hood as I could get it. “Thanks.”
Despite the tension in the air, Rowan’s eyes twinkled as he stood and returned to his spot, leaning against the wall. I bit my lower lip. It was still awkward as hell, but maybe that wasn’t a bad thing.
Instead of slinking into the chair like a guilty rat, I touched the surface as if checking to see if Rowan had done his duty before giving him another nod and sitting.
A laugh rumbled out of his chest.
“Stop laughing, Rowan,” Angela hissed. “It’s a power play, which your family has clearly forgotten how to do. Don’t forget your place.”
Rowan’s laughter cut off with an uncomfortable grunt, which, for some reason, made me angry on his behalf.
“No family and no money sounds right,” I repeated her initial assessment to take her focus off the handsome man who’d rescued me from an awkward situation of my own making.
“You’ve been assigned a double work-study,” she stated.
I nodded. “Sounds fair.”
“Does it?” Angela eyed me skeptically.
In my world, it did, but maybe not here?
I raised an eyebrow. “Should it not?”
Angela scowled at me and returned her attention to the glowing sheet. We sat in silence as she read. I risked another peek at Rowan, who had his eyes closed, still leaning in the same place. The door thudded against his back, and Rowan stumbled forward, blinking in surprise.
“Angela!” A light, high-pitched voice rang out.
I turned as another pair entered the space, making it feel relatively small.
The new arrival’s colorful, long sweater swished around her, hiding the young man at her back.
Light, wrinkled lines covered her round face, reminding me of a professor from Harry Potter.
Her terrifyingly bright-gold, frizzy hair looked more suited to be a paint job on a car, and clashed horribly with her angry, red face.
“What are you doing?” she demanded of Angela. “Get out of here before I call the Architect!”
Rowan grunted and crossed his arms over his chest; his disappointed gaze locked on Angela.
Angela gave him an innocent smile and stood. “I believe the Architect’s still unconscious and will be for some time.”
“That’s none of your business.” The woman took an aggressive step forward. “If you weren’t a Moore, I’d have you thrown out of here for trespassing. And for forcing poor Rowan to help you, again.”
Rowan let out another grunt and lightly clenched his fists.
Angela rose gracefully from her seat and crossed the room. “My doting dog.” She patted Rowan on the cheek. “Come, I’ll let you pick your outfit for the party tonight for being such a good boy.”
Completely ignoring the still-fuming woman, Angela flounced out the door.
Rowan grunted and pushed off the wall. He gave me a searching look I couldn’t interpret before following Angela. The fog swallowed them both.
The new arrival let out a sigh while a teenager with an olive-green bowl cut bravely emerged from behind her. He studied me with a frown on his face.
“Right,” the woman said. “I’m Hope Abernathy. You can call me Hope. I’m in charge of all housing in the Castle.” She looked behind her. “Brody, shut the door.”
Once shut, she took a moment to check on everything Angela disturbed on the desk before sitting, Brody at her side.
“Now,” she continued. “Whatever Lady Moore said is probably wrong. You can forget it.”
“Lady Moore?” I asked.
Hope pursed her lips. “It’s a unique situation. Lady Moore is obviously from a prominent London family and not interested in joining the Architect, though if Rowan stays with us, we might gain an alliance out of it.”
My thoughts froze on the word London. “Like, London, England?”
Hope narrowed her eyes. “Yes, though it’s been a long time since I heard the word ‘England.’ I think my great-grandmother still broke up the continent into Scotland, England, and Wales, but we don’t differentiate anymore.”
I tilted my head to the side. Right. Smart, Miss Q. We’ve never left the US, meaning you don’t have to get all the details right to make this more believable.
“And we would be in Wales?” I guessed.
Hope peered down her nose at me. “Scotland.”
“Right, on the border,” I said, trying to cover for myself.
“Wales and Scotland don’t border each other.” Hope sighed. “Thankfully, you don’t have to have a lot going on between your ears to do most of the jobs we’ll be training you for.”
Instead of being insulted, I grinned and blinked at her.
Hope bit back an amused smile and continued as if I hadn’t asked my questions. “Rowan’s one of Lady Moore’s contracts, and the rest is politics you don’t need to concern yourself with. She usually loses interest in new trainees quickly, as she’s not part of the family.”
Hope stuck her nose in the same glowing paper Angela, er, Lady Moore, had.