Chapter 36
Cayden
Quinn had been missing for two days. Forty-eight hours of replaying that night until it scraped my skull raw, wishing I’d stayed at her side instead of letting family politics pull me under.
She had four men circling her like sharks, yet when she needed us most, we were scattered—Ezra on The Mile, the Architect glad-handing at his Mixer, Rowan locked with the Moores, and me close enough to save her, but letting Emil get under my skin.
Of all my brothers, why Emil? He wasn’t high enough in the Prophet’s circle to matter, nor were any of my brothers at his side.
After the Architect intervened, my brothers took their leave, and despite my better judgment, I waited at the gates for my Prophet, waited until the cold made my bones ache. He never showed.
I was missing something.
I rubbed my wrist. My tattoo had gone suspiciously pain free hours ago. No sting, no burn, just a hollow quiet under my skin, like it was holding its breath.
I focused on finishing my task: tracking Quinn through the tunnels so we at least knew her exit.
But it was proving impossible. The walls hid endless exits, but no trace of Quinn’s magic, only the burnt-caramel stench of The Rooster’s bartender, Horax’s old minion.
If he had something to do with this… no.
Focus. I hit a dead end and marked it on the map.
‘We’ve gotten a delivery,’ Rowan stated. ‘You’re expected in the Architect’s office.’
‘He can fuck off,’ I responded.
‘You’ll come anyway. You’re going to have to get over this, Cayden. The Architect’s not your enemy.’
I didn’t respond. My girl had been missing for two days, and the mage who could literally pull the truth directly out of a person’s skull did nothing.
Even with magic driving my legs, the tunnels felt endless, each echoing footstep another accusation, another reminder she was still gone.
Rowan, Commander Ezra, and the Architect waited for me. Anger literally vibrated the air around me. I stepped into the Architect’s office, ready to give the man a piece of my mind, but one look at his face stopped me.
The collected mage I’d seen over the last few days was gone.
Bags hung under his eyes, with dark gray veins shooting through them.
A sign that he’d been eating his own magic to stay awake.
His baby-blue eyes barely glowed while his tight shoulders looked ready to pop.
Wrinkles creased the same rich, understated outfit of blues and grays he’d worn at the final Mixer event a few hours ago.
He looked breakable, like one good shove might shatter him into pieces I didn’t have time to pick up.
I slipped my hands into my pockets. Eating your own magic wasn’t something done lightly.
A little bit didn’t hurt anything, but replacing days of sleep with it would fuck you up and fast. Instead of yelling like I wanted to, I sat next to Rowan, who faced the Architect across a chunky desk.
Ezra, as always, stood at his lover’s back.
The Architect ran a stiff hand through his hair.
“The Royal Mile’s ours. No one was willing to risk their families to challenge me, and no one was willing to leave my Mixer, or they would have fallen too far out of the political loop.
However…” He took an uneasy breath. “Even the Abernathys are uncertain of Quinn’s absence.
Her brief appearance the first night was not enough.
Doubt that she’s not here of her own free will is rampant.
” He laced his fingers together and squeezed.
“I cannot find her. I’ve spent every night looking for her mind, her magic, anything.
I am powerful, but my range is limited. If she’s gone more than a mile outside our walls, my telepathy won’t find her. ”
Ezra gripped the Architect’s arm, and the man almost folded.
My anger surged, snapping at its leash, desperate to sink its teeth into someone.
“Then why not take the answers we need?” I leaned on the table.
“You have a list of suspects who had motive and opportunity to change her schedule. The same void that was used to steal the energy from the back of the dance floor was used to derail the train.” I hit the desk.
“Four people besides Quinn are missing, one of them with the same magic that permeates The Great Hall.” My nails dug into my palms from squeezing my fist on the table so hard.
“You could’ve read my family’s thoughts as they left, and no one would have been the wiser! ”
The Architect clenched his jaw. “I am alive today because I live by a code. Reading someone’s mind is mental assault. It’s taking without consent. The information I gain is one-sided in a way you cannot possibly understand.”
I stood. “Then make me understand it.”
The Architect rose from his seat. His gaunt face darkened. “If you want me in your head, riffling through your thoughts, fears, and memories, making my own interpretations of your actions, I will. Right now.”
I froze. My past was a minefield, actions I’d willingly performed in the Prophet’s name. If I let him in, would he see them as the righteousness I’d felt then, or as the sins that now tarnished my soul?
I looked away. If I didn’t even know the answers, how could a stranger understand?
Which was his point. I hated that I suddenly understood.
“We’re doing what we can.” Rowan tried to clap me on the shoulder, and I lunged sideways to avoid his touch. “The Architect can, and has, picked up surface thoughts.” Rowan kept going as if I hadn’t dodged him. “Your family had nothing to do with this…”
I narrowed my eyes. Technically, I wasn’t sure my family had actually showed up. At least when I left, Emil had not been in the Prophet’s inner circle.
“…The missing people were most likely more of Horax’s minions and have fled.” Rowan continued. “The Architect has gone through their TBs and questioned their friends. He’s trying, Cay.”
I bit my lips together. I was still angry, but maybe he was doing more than I saw. I retook my seat.
“I am alive today because I live by my rules,” the Architect reiterated.
“Every time I break them, I take a step closer to a cliff. And once at its edge, I will fall, and the world will shoot me on the way down to make sure I never breathe again.” His lips tightened.
“We will find Quinn without destroying everything I’ve created. ”
His words echoed in his office. His confidence, stubborn and unshaken, made mine steady.
Ezra placed a box in the middle of the table. “This was delivered to us.” He opened it.
Brit’s TB rolled out, followed by Quinn’s white shoes, blood drying on the left one, clouding the little jewels she and Everly had glued there.
One jewel was missing. My stomach clenched.
I knew exactly when she’d lost it, knew the sound it had made when it hit the floor, and why I hadn’t been there to stop it.
“You gave my pub to a whore, so I sold your whore to a… well, I guess you’ll never find out.” Rowan read off a light-purple scrawl.
The rage I’d walked in here with returned with a vengeance. The man who took her TB, Matt. Body snatchers. My family really had nothing to do with this.
This wasn’t even about Quinn.
“Horax,” Rowan spat. “I thought we banished him.”
The blood drained out of the Architect’s face. “I did.”
“Did you?” I launched out of my seat. I’d never hated a piece of furniture more.
This slab of wood was the only thing between me and the satisfying crunch of breaking the mentalist’s perfect face.
“Because, based on what everyone says, within these walls, you are a god. If you commanded it, every person in this castle would dance to your tune. That fucking bartender’s magic is all over The Great Hall.
He hated Quinn. He was on your list of suspects who could have changed her schedule! ”
‘Cayden, stop.’ Rowan’s command cut into my anger.
I suddenly noticed Ezra’s grip on his sword and the set of his legs, ready to cut me down.
Rowan stood and came to my back, dropping his massive hands onto my shoulders.
I didn’t shrug him off this time. I trained my gaze back on the Architect.
The man hadn’t moved; in fact, he was almost too still with his gaze focused on his desk.
“I failed.” The Architect’s voice nearly broke on the last word.
“I thought I could keep her safe. I wanted to give Matt the chance to do better and not ruin his life because someone else had led him down the wrong path. I made the wrong call.” He looked up and glanced at Rowan before settling his gaze on me.
“I will find her, but I need your help.”
Rowan’s grip on my shoulder tightened.
Ezra didn’t take his hand off his sword hilt.
“The three of us share a link to Quinn.” Xan stood and put his hand over Ezra’s sword arm, though his gaze didn’t leave mine. “Join me in the Alun.”
His words could have been a question or a command.
The Alun. Quinn had said something about her training being in the small room that absorbed magic. I hadn’t thought much of it. “The Alun?”
“You’ll like this, rune-master.” The Architect flipped his palm upward. “I think it’s something I should have introduced you to a long time ago.”
Curiosity stirred despite the anger. I kept my scowl fixed on the man who’d failed Quinn. “For Quinn, I’m at your disposal, Architect.”
He jerked in surprise. “I thought that would be harder.”
My scowl deepened, but Rowan clapped me on the shoulder. “We’re both in.”
I met the Architect’s gaze, letting him see the vow carved into me. We will find her, or I’ll burn through anyone who stands in our way.