Chapter 1 #2
The only time he shared anything about himself was to steer my actions.
He tried to pick my friends, and now he kept me so busy I couldn’t think for myself.
I didn’t know where Cayden’s head was at; however, his observations concerning Ezra and isolation were right. This wasn’t friendship; it was control.
Silence descended upon us, thickening until every exhale felt like a choice: speak, or let the air confess for me. I studied the weights from my past, suddenly unsure what this powerful commander saw in me beyond my fertility.
“When I escaped my slavers,” Ezra said, his gruff voice filling the silence, “I found a group of men living in the tunnel system under The Royal Mile. The world’s not easy for people with no family, as you know.”
I wrapped my arms around myself.
“The group wasn’t well organized,” he continued. “When we needed food, we attacked supply chains. When we needed entertainment, we went to the pit fights and made trouble. When our hormones got the best of us, we helped ourselves to whomever was convenient. Which worked well for me.”
A chill threaded through me. Honesty this raw shouldn’t sound like penance…
oh. My wave of compassion crashed short as his words repeated in my mind: ‘Which worked well for me.’ I scratched my nose.
Ezra preferred the company of men. He wasn’t into women, much less me.
I wasn’t sure if that made everything better or worse.
Three for three. No one wanted to be more than friends. I thought Ezra and I had a moment in the Alun, but he pulled away, and then things got complicated.
I took a deep breath. “I’m listening.”
“I’d been in the tunnels for a year when we found this kid, sixteen at most.” A soft smile tugged at Ezra’s lips.
“He was scrawny and pale as a ghost. A perfect toy for a band of directionless, angry men. But for some reason, every time we got near him, we decided to go elsewhere. One night, I snuck into his cellar alone. In the pitch black, there are no shadows, and my magic was virtually mute.”
“What did you do?” Unease made my heart race. Where was this going?
“I crept toward his sleeping body,” Ezra continued.
“One step at a time, until I stepped on something crunchy, setting off a chain reaction of noise.” Ezra laughed.
“Smelly ooze dropped from the ceiling. A spray of what I later discovered was glow-in-the-dark paint covered me. The kid woke, and we locked gazes. I was livid. Instead of running, I punched him hard. He dropped like a stone, and I bolted before I set off any more of his traps.”
I couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped my lips. The sound startled me, too light and alive.
“Everything about me is stealth.” Ezra groaned. “For weeks, you could smell and see me coming for miles.”
I relaxed my arms.
“I regret how our interaction at the cannons ended.” Ezra met my gaze. “I shared with you in hopes you would see events my way. It was wrong of me.”
For the first time, he wasn’t the commander speaking, just a man asking forgiveness.
He reached out as if to touch me and hesitated, fingers ghosting the air near my wrist until the restraint itself felt like a touch. “I cannot change what I’ve done, but I find my workouts quieter than I remembered.”
The commander of this entire place was offering me an olive branch, trying to rekindle our friendship. Suspicion twisted my stomach, which responded by growling with hunger.
Ezra reached into his pocket-void, pulled out a wrapped bar, and handed it to me. I was too hungry to argue and demolished it. Three more appeared, and he pushed them into my hands.
“When I first arrived, did you and the others decide who my friends should be?” I asked bluntly.
“Yes.” Ezra didn’t look at me. “You’re powerful, Quinn. I wanted you safe and in the company of those I trust.”
I didn’t expect an honest answer. I ate another of his bars—honey, nuts, oats, and chocolate; it was delicious.
“Was Brody on your list?” I asked.
Ezra shook his head. “My first interaction with Brody was yesterday, when he reported your absence.”
I let out a breath, more thankful than I wanted to admit. “Did you choose men for me to form contracts with?” I asked awkwardly, remembering Seth’s interest.
Ezra turned and gripped my shoulder. “No. Your body belongs only to you, as does your future.” His face fell. “I’ve gravely mishandled all of this. Everything I do is to keep you safe. Nothing more. I swear on the Architect’s life.”
My traitorous stomach fluttered under his touch.
Believing him hurt worse than doubt, because hope always demanded payment.
I reached up and covered his hand with mine, understanding ‘mishandling’ life all too well.
It was probably na?ve of me, but I wanted what he said to be true badly enough that I was willing to risk getting shit on a second time.
I squeezed his hand, still resting on my shoulder.
A question about the Architect was on the tip of my lips, but I swallowed it. Ezra might be this mysterious mentalist’s, whatever that meant, second in command, but that didn’t mean he knew the Architect’s mind. I didn’t need to make more assumptions based on incomplete information.
“I’m exhausted by the end of the day.” I pulled my hand off his, and he released my shoulders. “I don’t even have time to eat with my crazy schedule. If your goal’s to keep me too busy to think, it’s working.”
Ezra narrowed his eyes.
“I’m trying to say yes.” I patted his leg. “I’d love to have your expertise again. But I’m probably already late for the stables, and then I’m passing out.”
Ezra stood. “I will make sure you have time.”
I pursed my lips. He had made my schedule and wasn’t hiding it. He clearly enjoyed hard work; maybe he didn’t realize how bad it was for me.
“And breaks,” I added.
“As you wish.” Ezra held out his hand to help me up.
He had no idea he quoted The Princess Bride, but I flushed, loving it.
His grin widened, sensing my reaction, though he couldn’t know why.
The rush of excitement from when we first met returned. He might be gay, but he seemed pretty happy to let me drool. I took his hand and gestured at his shirt, motioning up.
With a grin, he removed the offending garment.
“Better.” I bit my lower lip.
Ezra’s gaze scrutinized me. “You’ve not put on weight. I want you to eat two of my bars a day. I’ll have them sent to your dorm.”
“What are you, my personal trainer now?” I raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t know what that is.” Ezra inclined his head. “But I’m guessing it’s someone close to you who trains you, so yes, that is exactly what I am.”
I snorted. Before I did as he asked, his story came back to me. “What happened to the kid?”
A soft, unexpected smile filled Ezra’s face. “He became the Architect.”