Chapter 14
Rowan
I flanked my commander as he walked into the coliseum, overseeing another round of power placement. Each trainee held a gem in their hands. Sweat poured down their faces as they flooded the stone with pure energy, as much of it as they possibly could.
Despite knowing the man wasn’t here, I still found myself searching for Quinn. He’d created a massive dragon during his entry tests. He’d have blown the stone to shards. Would’ve shut people up for once.
But he’d been excused from the placement and was off doing something else, which was none of my business.
I frowned. My magic begged me to leave the coliseum and walk toward the far side of the castle.
Instead of following it, I locked it down.
My life was planned. On track. If I starved this thing, maybe it’d die.
I grunted unhappily for probably the hundredth time, and Joe scowled from his spot on Ezra’s left. This attachment, my magic seemed to have to an untrained powerhouse, was not what I needed. Quinn could not be my focus, not even as a friend.
A sudden fear gripped my heart, and I froze mid-step. Weightless. My hip slammed, my shoulder wrenched, my thigh burned… and then nothing. Black.
I blinked rapidly, still seeing only the coliseum. The damp ground beneath my knee sank into my completely uninjured limb.
“Focus on your tasks,” Ezra growled at the trainees, curiously watching me.
Joe left my side to help impress my commander's orders.
My magic screamed at me while the elements around my body swirled and rippled. Small tremors shook the ground under me. A student, who was too close, wobbled and fell.
“Rowan, what is wrong?” Ezra demanded.
I dug my fingers into my thigh and closed my eyes. With a start, I realized my magic no longer pulled in a vague direction anymore, but to a pinpoint location on the east side of The Green.
Quinn was there outside our walls and hurt.
I took a deep breath.
I was a good soldier. I did what I was told and didn’t question orders. Most importantly, I communicated with the chain of command. Ezra valued these traits and promoted me to one of his generals.
Telling my commanding officer was the right thing to do, but would result in delays and explanations. I didn’t understand what was going on inside me.
“It’s my magic.” The half-truth fell out of my mouth. “It’s agitated. I need a moment, possibly to dump power.”
Ezra nodded. “Do what you need to.”
I bolted toward the stables, my magic driving me forward. Not bothering with my own horse, I took the first one saddled. The beast’s hooves rang out on the ancient cobbled streets, matching my racing pulse.
My magic guided me to a large tent in the massive market sprawling along The Green.
Leaving the sweating horse at the back, I walked between off-white sheets until I found the entrance.
‘Willow’s Weaving and More’ glowed in eggplant purple.
Two burly-looking fighters dressed in the cream and brown leathers of the McDonalds stood on either side of the door.
Voices came from inside, and I hesitated.
“The Architect’s Annual Mixer is only ten weeks away. It’s never too early to think about fashion,” a woman’s voice said.
“Oh, yes, of course,” another responded. “Did you hear about the dragon?”
“Who hasn’t heard about the dragon?” the first said. “I hear he crawled out of the tunnels. Like the Architect.”
“No.” The second voice sounded scandalized. “One of my sons swears one of our guards saw him enter the city from the North in nothing but rags.”
“What a backward part of the world the North is. Maybe rags are in?” The first voice giggled.
I put my hand on the cloth tent flap.
“Either way, my family wants him,” the second voice said, pausing my entry. “He’ll either come to our side, or we’ll take him off the playing field. I will not stand for the mentalist gaining more power. His kind are abominations who shouldn’t walk this planet.”
My desire to rush in and destroy this woman and her opinions made me see red. I forced myself to calm. After a single deep breath, I stepped into the tent.
A thin, short woman turned and smiled at me while Freya McDonald scowled. The leader of the McDonald clan’s mud-brown hair was up in a series of braids, pinching her already tight face. Her bone-thin hands stuck out of a fur coat, and the black slip of a silk dress peeked out from under it.
“Oh, a Tate,” Freya McDonald drawled. “Willow, sweety, pay him no mind. He couldn’t afford a scarf in your shop.”
I looked past the two women to a table at the back. A lump my magic recognized lay under it, completely still. I couldn’t wait for these two to finish, but I had no way to get them to leave the tent.
“McDonald.” I inclined my head. “It’s a pleasure.”
Freya let out a disappointed sigh. “An honor more like, though I suppose you’re in contract with a Moore.” Her smile turned wicked. “Though your child will be a Moore, isn’t that correct?” She rubbed her hands together. “How much do the stud services of a Tate cost these days?”
Anger and shame burned in my gut. Freya wasn’t wrong.
Angela’s family would keep our child, but only for a steep price.
It was money we desperately needed, and a blood connection to one of the most powerful families in London.
It was the ultimate tie. My dignity meant nothing if it could help my family rise to power again.
I purposefully walked toward Quinn, ignoring Freya and her too-accurate taunts.
The old woman cackled and clapped.
I reached the table and bent down. Quinn lay in a ball.
His chest rose and fell. I put two fingers on his throat.
As our skin touched, a maelstrom of trapped magic crawled up my arm and tried to mix with my own.
Unexpected awareness of the broken body under my fingers flooded my senses. The world went silent.
Her.
Quinn was a her.
Her. Shit. She was a her. All the flirting, the way I stared at her ass, it all slammed together.
Her pulse was steady, but the clammy pallor of her skin made my heart race. Blood pooled from her wounds, though not a drop had landed anywhere but the floor beneath her. I’d felt her fall, yet somehow, I found her under a table, inside a tent.
I pulled my cloak from my void and wrapped it around her, tucking it close as if it could shield her from what had already happened. Cradling her carefully, her slight frame shuddered in my arms. A broken, pain-filled wheeze slipped from her lips, and my chest tightened—, but she didn’t wake.
“What is that?” Willow exclaimed as I stood. “Is that a child? How did he get into my tent?”
I had the same question. Instead of voicing it, I pulled Quinn’s limp body close to my chest. She was a powerhouse with limited control, hiding her identity. I cradled her, understanding exactly how precious this mystery was in my arms.
Raw power I couldn't control swirled around us, making the dresses in the shop flutter. The shorter of the two women started to yell, while Freya’s gaze dropped to Quinn. The McDonalds believed anyone who didn’t share their blood was ripe for slavery. They couldn’t find out.
I bolted out of the tent, leaving waves of magic in the air behind me.
One-handed, I hauled myself and Quinn, still tucked under one arm, onto the horse.
We’d not taken two steps before my magic came out of me and stabbed into the little body in my arms. A ball of solid emotion formed in my chest, right next to my own beating heart.
Quinn’s life filled my awareness. She had so many injuries.
I’d never been so thankful someone was unconscious in my entire life.
What I’d done hit me next. This had to be a tether. I knew what they were. I knew what they represented, but I’d never created one myself. Except, Quinn now lay at the other end of my magic, and not by either of our choices.
Angela. My contract. And now this tether, burning in my chest. I didn’t want it. I hadn’t asked for it. But my magic didn’t care.
I grunted. It clearly wanted me to save her. I’d done that. Now, I had to cut this tether before it destroyed the future I sold my very genetics for.