Chapter 13
Quinn
I woke to my simple, curly red locks framing my face. The energy dancing around me last night returned to still, almost suffocating air. A wave of despair twisted my stomach. My magic was gone. Last night couldn’t have been a dream, right?
Unless all of this was a dream... not the time to regress, Quinn.
With shaking hands, I climbed down the ladder and stuck my finger back in the Hot Wheels bag.
Nothing happened. My throat closed.
Wind brushed my skin… no, it was energy. Magic. I sucked in a shuddering breath as the hair around my face returned to its prismatic sparkle. Relief hit so hard it twisted into a sob.
“What the fuck?” Erick asked from his bed.
Coral light bled into the cauldrons.
I sucked in a breath and turned with my fingers still in the bag and tears streaming down my face. My smile stretched awkwardly.
Erick rolled onto his side and looked down at me. “Your hair’s sparkling.”
I nodded through the tears. “I figured out how to use my magic.”
Erick inclined his head and yawned. “Good for you. So does this mean you’ll stop waking me at four-thirty every morning and set your own damn alarm?”
“Right away, Your Majesty,” I deadpanned.
“I can’t wait till you call me that when I’m deep inside you.” He flopped onto his back and pretended to stroke his dick. “Bringing our son into the world.”
Ew.
“You’re delusional.” My smile slipped, and I willed my next two words to sink into Erick. “Big brother.”
Erick laughed. “Just making sure you don’t forget your options, little sis.”
I scowled and grabbed my uniform for the train. Not two seconds later, Erick’s snores filled the room again. I dropped his TB on the desk, hopefully for the last time, and started my day.
Although I was too afraid of being kicked out of the castle to miss my work-study, I skipped my tag-along and lecture to focus on my magic. Cayden joined me in the library’s map room. We took over the underlit table and spread my childhood across its glowing surface.
By midday, Winston, accompanied by a black-clad enforcer, stopped by and officially let us off the hook. In addition, if we needed any resources, he was in direct contact with the Architect and would get us whatever we needed.
For a second, I considered not working on my magic because the Architect clearly wanted me to find it. But I wasn’t an ornery teenage girl anymore, most of the time, so I stuck with my plan and passed on my thanks despite my skepticism.
Before he left, I pulled Winston to the side. “Did you actually talk to the Architect?”
“I did,” Winston replied, his voice even. “He’s just a man, Quinn. Whatever myth you’ve built around him. Let. It. Go.”
He met my gaze with calm certainty. “He wants to see you succeed. That much, I do believe.”
“Then why haven’t I met him?” I couldn’t keep the fear out of my voice. “He controls my future. I’m waiting for him even to be placed in the family.”
“It’s far more complicated than that,” Winston said softly, a faint, sorrowful smile touching his lips. “The Architect may influence your future within this family, but he does not control you, Quinn. Do not forget that.”
I took a deep breath, prepared to argue, but Winston didn’t give me the chance.
“As for your placement among us… I would not presume to place you.”
My argument vanished on my tongue. I blinked a few times in confusion and tilted my head to the side.
“Commander Ezra may appear fearless,” Winston said with a chuckle, “but I wouldn’t be surprised if he nearly wet himself trying to make that decision.
You are an enigma, Quinn. One who’s already demonstrated a remarkable disregard for the status quo.
Every family in Edinburgh, perhaps even on this island, is watching to see how your story unfolds. ”
The humor faded from his voice. “And the more distance the Architect keeps from you, the less room there is for anyone to claim he’s influencing your mind.”
He rested a hand gently on my arm. “Focus on your magic. That’s a task enough for anyone. Your place in this family will either reveal itself… or you’ll find it elsewhere. That is the nature of life.”
I wrinkled my nose. Busy was an understatement, and the Doggy Monster had good points.
The moment Winston left, Cayden marched to the door and chiseled runes into it only he could open. With that, the map room became our little fortress of solitude, and we got to work.
After spending so much time with super sweet and supportive Xan, who knew way too much about me, Cayden’s negativity and sarcasm brought me back down to earth.
It took me an entire day to realize the obvious. Only the metals and precious stones from my destroyed childhood actually needed to touch me. Xan had even given me a book on this exact law of magic.
Xan. Shit. I’d pretty much used him and then told him to fuck off. It had been the right thing to do. He needed to spend more time with his partner, not my confused ass. But I’d trusted him with my past, and that sharp, get-things-done energy of his would be really helpful right now.
Even with Cayden’s help, it took us another day of painfully sifting through thousands of tiny pieces of plastic and fabric to find a minimal amount of gold and a few ounces of mixed metals.
By the end of it, I’d almost messaged Xan three times.
Not only because I wanted an extra pair of hands, but because I missed his floppy hair and optimism.
“I don’t like that look,” Cayden said.
I blinked away my thoughts of Xan and focused on my friend. “What look?”
“Like you’re lost in another place… or person.” Cayden crossed his arms over his chest.
I bit my lips together. Cayden didn’t like Rowan. I doubted he’d have a different reaction to Xan. But he was going to have to get over both.
“You’re my best friend.” I leaned farther across the table. “And don’t you dare tell Brit I said that because she will skin me alive for choosing a man over either her or Everly.”
Cayden smirked.
“But you’re not my only friend, Cay.”
Cayden narrowed his eyes.
“And this”—I pushed up from the table, the box and its contents spread across it, and opened my arms dramatically—“is tedious. If I’m daydreaming about having an extra pair of hands, you can get over it.”
“Do those hands have a name?” Cayden asked.
I snorted. “Why, so you can add them to your little notebook?”
Cayden blinked at me. “I don’t know what that is.”
I sighed. Of course, he didn’t. I picked up my tweezers and explained to him the concept of a notebook with the names of everyone who’d wronged you so you could get revenge later.
“I like that a lot,” Cayden said, adding a piece of gold to the pile, from what I was pretty sure had been a stuffed bunny with a music box in its butt. “Who’s in your notebook?”
I paused my search and tapped the tweezers against the table. “Honestly, Cayden. I don’t have one, but if I did, the only name in it would be Quinn.”
Cayden also stopped working to look directly at me. “No one wronged you?”
I shook my head before letting out a regretful sigh. “No. A lot of people did, but until recently, I blamed myself for all of it.”
Cayden shook his head. “You can’t blame yourself for everything, Quinn.”
I shrugged. “You can, and I did. Right or wrong, it’s how I lived for, well, twenty-four years.”
The gears behind Cayden’s eyes turned as he took my words and reflected them onto himself. I’d never seen anyone digest information like he did and internalize it. But he was a closed book. I didn’t know what impact my words had on him.
“We’re at the bottom of the box,” Cayden said, his face unreadable.
I took a deep breath and let him change the topic.
We were, and there were items at the bottom, not in little Ziplock bags.
A stack of now-useless cash, my birth certificate, and a little jewelry box looked up at us.
Cayden picked up the birth certificate before I could stop him.
To distract myself from the realization that Cayden, who was very, very smart, was probably putting together the bits and pieces he’d witnessed about me, with the dates written on my birth certificate—which would inevitably lead him to my ripe old age of around a hundred and forty—I focused on the jewelry box and the note tied to the top of it.
This belonged to my mom. Your grandma. I’m a coward, and I didn’t want you to break it. So, I never gave it to you. I’m so sorry for everything.
Your dad, always.
I managed to set the jewelry box down before bursting into tears and dropping into a heap on the floor.
My dad was gone. Everything I knew was gone.
There wasn’t even a piece of me pretending this was all a delusion anymore, and no matter how much I loved this new world, it didn’t change that I lost my old one.
Cayden wrapped me in his arms and pulled us onto an oversized loveseat we’d commandeered. He rocked me while I cried, and eventually, my tears slowed.
“We’d done a number on each other, but he was still my dad,” I mumbled. “And now he’s gone.”
Cayden kissed the side of my head. “You’re stronger than you think.”
I screwed my eyes shut, as if blocking out the world would make his words more real.
“In my family, the kids are raised by women until our Prophet judges them,” Cayden said softly.
“And then they are chosen by a mentor. I was eight when my Prophet chose me, and my life became lessons and worship.” I felt his chest squeeze.
“I don’t understand anything you just said. Tell me about it?”
I took a deep breath. Cayden and I came from such different worlds, but he somehow knew that I needed to talk and gave me that opening.
I cuddled into him as stories about my childhood streamed out of me.
I told him how badly my dad wanted to fix me, but how quickly that turned into a double-edged sword.
I explained that he loved me, but his love also trapped us in unhealthy patterns.