Chapter 9 Alexander
Alexander
With Quinn’s need to go to The Rooster gone, my wait for her at my table became painfully fruitless. She bounced around my castle for her activities and mainly ate cold food, which did not make her happy. It was a puzzle. One I intended to solve.
I gave her a few days before setting up a ‘chance’ meeting as she exited her work on the train.
“Are you stalking me?” Quinn asked. Although humor filled her voice, fear curled in her stomach.
I put my hands up. “You caught me. I enjoyed our conversation the other day and wanted it to happen again.”
Her fear didn’t ease.
“Ezra mentioned your train work-study, so I took a guess.” I didn’t lower my hands. “I will leave right now and never bother you again if you want. You have Ezra’s word on that. He’d cut my balls if he thought I was stalking anyone.”
Quinn laughed, and her fear finally dissipated. “I think he really would… at least until the Architect finally judges me as worthy or not.”
I jerked back. “What?”
Quinn waved me off. “I’m just bitter, and Ezra’s a good soldier.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. “Um, would you like to get breakfast?”
Quinn shook her head. “It’s my turn to pay, and I can’t do that yet.”
“Yet?” I raised an eyebrow.
Quinn grimaced. A patch of grime flaked on her cheek. “It’s a long story.”
I rubbed my neck, desperate to understand everything that just happened. “I’m all ears.”
Quinn pursed her lips. “Give me a minute to clean up? Meet me at the cannons?”
The cannons were too public.
“How about back here, the library?” I countered. “Romance is my favorite section.”
Quinn raised an eyebrow.
I grinned. “It is. Romance isn’t just love. It’s people finding each other and making a new life of their choosing. It’s optimism in a dark world that badly needs it.”
Quinn lowered her eyebrow and smiled softly. “It really is, isn’t it?” She studied me for an extra second. “Let the librarians know where I can find you. I’ll be back in a bit.”
She was protecting herself, and I wouldn’t begrudge anyone that.
I smiled. “See you soon.”
Despite her refusal to have breakfast, I booked it to Wicked Wich and picked up some anyway before returning and setting up a spot for us. Shelves full of tattered covers from BT were dotted with thick, bound scrawls. It was the perfect backdrop for her.
Quinn entered and sat in the empty, faded wingback chair, matching mine, across from me. A little table off to the left held two egg and bacon pasties and fresh-pressed apple juice. She shot me an accusing look, and her stomach growled.
I put my hands in the air. “It was here when I got here.”
She sighed, though her toe tapped the floor. She wasn’t using enough magic. Did she understand how much had built up inside her?
“It wasn’t. You’re a horrible liar,” she said.
I put my hands down. “You know that after one conversation?”
Quinn looked at the pasty again before reaching for it. “I guess not,” she said thoughtfully. “But you’re like Rowan, except a better dancer. Rowan bites his lips shut when he doesn’t want to say anything. You change the topic, and I don’t even notice it till three minutes later.”
I smiled. “Very observant. Do you always tell the truth?”
“Do you think I do?” Quinn froze.
The air around us felt heavy. I searched our tether and found it poised on an edge, though I didn’t know what kind.
“No one tells the truth all the time.” I steepled my fingers in front of me. “Sometimes, we even lie to ourselves. I know I do.” I leaned forward. “I often wish I were someone I’m not… and sometimes I want it so badly, I lie even to myself.”
A storm of emotions too thick to follow flooded our connection. Quinn’s chest rose and fell. She studied me as if I were an obscure painting.
“Not the answer you were expecting?” I asked.
Quinn nodded.
I kicked off my shoes and crossed my legs on the chair. My knees rested on the padded arms. “Ezra tells me you’re getting to know Rowan well, but not many families are like his. The Tates are unique. They were royal before the tremors, with tight bloodlines.”
Quinn wrinkled her nose. “Because they all married their cousins, right? I think I remember that from history. The royalty of Europe liked to keep it in the family.”
I chuckled. “A practice that’s returned. Try not to judge it too harshly.”
Quinn blushed, but I pushed on before the moment could settle. “The Tate lineage has progressed slowly; only three generations over the past century. Rowan’s grandfather chose love over power or alliance, as did his father. It has made them happy, but poor and forgotten.”
I held her gaze. “My family lived under the umbrella of another, in what was barely better than slavery. My father realized early that selling me would improve the situation for the rest of the family. True slavery became my existence, so the rest of my family could have a better life.”
Quinn stopped tapping her foot and wrapped her arms around her middle. Her heart bled for me, and I felt every drop in our connection.
“My story is the more common one,” I continued before I could comment on something she didn’t know I could feel. “And that’s why it doesn’t matter whether I think you lie or not.”
Quinn took a sharp breath, and her toes picked up their rhythm once more.
“Life isn’t about what other people think,” I reiterated. “Most people do what they believe is the right thing for them and justify it by creating their own truth.”
“But it matters.” Quinn stabbed her knee as if making a point. “Why else would you be so worried about Ezra?”
I jerked back. She was right. If it didn’t matter to me what Ezra thought, I would have already talked to him about her.
I steepled my fingers again. “Touché.”
Quinn gave me a little grin before she picked up my pasty. “You’re a much deeper thinker than your partner.”
“Ha.” The laugh-snort was out of me before I could stop it. “Ezra exists in the moment. We balance each other well.” My love for Ezra swelled in my chest. I had to fix the rift I’d put between us. I met her gaze. “So, why yet?” I asked, focusing on her aversion to food.
Quinn took a big bite of the pasty and chased it down with the apple juice. Her lips pursed around the wooden mug, and her neck curved as liquid ran down it. I knew she didn’t intend the motion to be sensual, but everything about her lit my libido on fire.
“I’m sure it’s common knowledge by now, but I’m struggling to use my magic.” Quinn set down her mug. “Has Ezra said anything to you?”
“No,” I said in all honesty. “We’ve not been communicating well.”
Quinn reached out as if to comfort me, but I’d kept our chairs a respectful distance apart. Silently, I cursed the choice.
“Still?” she asked.
I nodded. “But we’re not talking about my problems; it’s your turn. Maybe you could bounce some ideas off me?”
Quinn rocked in her chair, and I couldn’t help myself. “You’re showing signs of magical overload. I had them a lot as a kid. My magic is the reason my dad sold me. Please let me help you.”
Quinn bit her lower lip. “I don’t think you can.”
I scooted to the edge of my chair. “How will you know if you don’t reach out?”
Quinn’s eyes unfocused, and the tap tap of her toes filled the quiet nook. I leaned back, giving her the space she needed to think. Slowly, she copied my posture, kicking off her shoes and crossing her legs on her chair.
“I don’t want to care what people think of me, but I do.” Her gaze focused on me. “I’m afraid if people know too much, I’ll be treated differently. Again.”
I didn’t look away. “Fortunately for you, we just met, and I’m going to treat you differently regardless because you’ve somehow managed to get under my partner’s skin.” And mine, but sharing that would send her running.
Quinn’s eyebrows pinched adorably. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”I leaned forward. “You tell me.”
Tension filled the air between us before bursting like a bubble.
Relief and hope filled Quinn’s tether. She’d made a decision. “The Architect holds my life in the palm of his hand.”
Me again. I tried not to react, though my shoulders stiffened.
“I’ve not been placed in the family,” Quinn said quietly. The fear and anxiety she’d felt since I woke up, stabbed at her. “Every enforcer knows my face. I can’t leave these walls without him knowing.”
…not until you’re safe.
“The Architect wants my fertility.”
… I don’t. That’s not why I saved your life.
“And despite being awake for almost two weeks now, he’s not spoken to me.”
… I wanted you to know me, Xan, first.
“I don’t know what he’s waiting for, but I can’t be helpless when the bell tolls.”
… Helpless.
Her words bounced around my head and multiplied. I, who created this family to empower others, made her feel helpless. My muscles locked as shock paralyzed me.
“I can only use Majekah to do one thing.” Quinn picked up the little wrapper her pasty came in.
One minute, it was there, and the next, a pile of beeswax and fiber lay on the stone floor in front of her chair.
“And if there’s a component of power in the item, a little dragon pops into existence, or at least two of the three times I’ve done it.
” She wrinkled her nose. “Which means I am doing something. I’m affecting energy, so I should be able to use magic.
After talking to Chancellor Morgen, I think I need a converter…
or a wand, or something. The magic I can use is old, like BT old, and this is a hundred years in the future as far as I can tell.
Chancellor Morgen had to live in a tree for fifty years to get her magic.
But I don’t have fifty years. The Architect could walk in here right now! ” Panic edged her voice.
Although the facts she’d told me were important, essential, as they hinted at her being a time traveler. Her assessment of her situation was all I could focus on. Her every conclusion was wrong. I wanted to scream my denial.
But words were meaningless.