Chapter 11 Alexander
Alexander
Thirty-six hours was all I could allow myself to sleep. Once again, I dreamed of Quinn tangled with Cayden and Rowan. A shadow lingered behind her, and three unwanted tethers pulled at her spine.
I woke alone in my bed with cold fear crawling down my back. Ezra hadn’t added any new squares to the ceiling. They were only decorative, but they were his gesture and helped me focus on the here and now. No new squares… I squeezed my eyes shut and swallowed down my dread.
Although I felt far from rested, I’d recovered from most of the effects of eating my magic. Strands of white still threaded my baby-blue hair, but even those would regain their color, as long as I took care of myself. A few days of extra rations and long nights of rest would have to suffice.
In record time, I found myself clean, dressed in my trainee uniform, and walking toward Quinn, only to force myself to turn to my war room instead.
I used my magic to defend my family.I killed in the Alun.
My heart thumped. My choices. My consequences.
A headache beat at my temple. I should go to Quinn. I should have broken my own rules and just peeked to make sure she was okay. Not because I didn’t trust Rowan, but because it would’ve made me happy. But I refused to let the world judge her because of my mental magic. Her choices were hers alone.
I stopped and drew in a deep breath of cold air. No dwelling on unwritten paths. If there was any chance of keeping the families at bay, I had to take it.
For all my power, I was still mortal. My mental magic left me vulnerable—a glass cannon—deadly but fragile.
I focused on Quinn’s beating heart. She was working in The Old Fortress, helping break down and catalog everything the late Professor Holiday collected. It was the perfect job for her. Feeling her safe within my walls calmed my unease.
My family was alive with activity. Every person, even my trainees, was helping rebuild not just my castle but also my Mile.
I tapped into my TB system and went through everything I’d missed, which was a lot, with nothing completed.
By the time I stepped into my war room, I was up to speed, if in no better of a mood.
Ezra and his five stood around the model of my castle. Rowan shifted from foot to foot, unease rolling off him. If he was here, then Quinn was alone with Cayden.
Alarm bells went off in my head. Emil’s visions and twisted fantasies surfaced unbidden, sending my pulse skidding out of rhythm.
‘Quinn.’ I sent the single word like a spike into my lover’s mind.
‘I have extra enforcers on her.’ Ezra’s words eased me.
She wasn’t alone with the Lawson.
Morgen cleared her throat unhappily. I hadn’t noticed my bright pink-haired monster standing just to the left of the entrance. She crossed her arms defensively across her chest. Her proximity to the door spoke volumes. Professor Holiday’s demise did not sit well with her.
“There are amends I need to offer.” I stepped to the table, deliberately ignoring her.
“That’s well and good, but Architect”—Valentino, my relations officer, stepped forward and spread his arms—“we didn’t lose a single man in Erick’s assault because of you. You saved us.”
My chest warmed. I hadn’t known what reception to expect.
I held up my hand. “I promise I only use my mentalist abilities when there are no other options.”
“That’s good,” Abernathy said, at the same time as Jefferson muttered, “You should be using them more.”
Abernathy and Jefferson traded looks—old guard and new blood, divided by time and morals. The desperate couldn’t afford to lose their advantages, morals or not, while the powerful could. Not everyone truly understood that side of life, except those who understood it too well.
“Regardless,” I said smoothly before this could turn into a discussion. “Our family has recovered well and quickly.”
“As long as the other families don’t rally against a mentalist,” Valentino said before I could continue.
I drummed my fingers on the stone table.
“That eventuality is why I took this castle, with its walls built into the cliff sides and every building in range of my mental powers. If it comes to it, I can and will defend my home again.” I raised my finger to keep our conversation on track.
“There’s one family beyond recovery. The Lawsons. ”
The reaction to my words ranged from curiosity to disgust.
I gave them a moment to adjust to the idea before giving my orders. “Within the hour, we move. Our goal is not to take but to offer. The remaining Lawsons are stranded and have no leadership. They need help.”
My words met silence; however, before it could stretch, Lark pulled out a forest-green scrawl. “They’re wealthy. Stockpiles for winter. Trade contacts too, but we don’t have the manpower to hold their land.”
As much as I wanted to help them out of the kindness of my heart, power made the world go round. “We’ll have to leave it for a different family.” I looked right at Abernathy. “One of our allies who trusts us regardless of our mentalist actions.”
Abernathy narrowed his eyes but nodded once.
‘Summon Cayden. He needs to be here for this,’ I said to Ezra.
My lover stepped into my shadow and vanished.
Morgen narrowed her eyes. “If they don’t want our help, are we going to force the issue? It’s what you did with Professor Holiday.”
And what made my monster so uncomfortable was now on the table.
“I did nothing to Professor Holiday.” I splayed my hands, demonstrating my innocence. “In fact, I had no control over that situation, as my screaming at Quinn to get away from him should have made painfully obvious.”
Morgen stiffened. “Quinn unraveled him with a touch.” Her voice cracked. “She could unravel any of us.”
“I don’t think she can.” I pressed my hand to my chest. “She’s used her Majekah on others, and they’ve not turned into dragons.”
“Others like Professor Holiday?” Morgen asked.
Ezra’s five stood frozen, watching.
“Is there anyone truly like Professor Holiday?” I asked. “She was drawn to him. Instead of fearing her, give her room to learn.”
“I fear no one,” Morgen snapped.
I didn’t believe that for a moment. “Quinn’s still unclaimed, and I will have her in my family. Don’t test me, Morgen. Not on this.”
The pink-haired monster narrowed her eyes, the air between us sharp as a blade. For a heartbeat, I swore her hair was already splitting into branches, her fingers curling into gnarled claws. The tension cracked only when a new sound bled through: the unmistakable voice of Quinn.
Morgen hissed and scurried across the room, and unease prickled down my spine.
I’d seen her slaughter hundreds in the name of survival, striking down threats before they could act.
Peace had held for seven years, but only because no one in my family had crossed her. I couldn’t afford to be the first.
Men lowered their hands from their weapons. A few wiped cold sweat from their brows. Completely unaware of the tension, Ezra rejoined us with Quinn and Cayden following behind.
Quinn’s eyes lit when she saw me, then dimmed. I ached to pull her close. “Feeling better?”
Quinn nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
She shuffled as if suddenly unsure of herself, but there was nothing I could do to fix it. Jeans, a faded green hoodie, hair in a high ponytail with streaks of crystal in the red—ordinary and otherworldly all at once, and more beautiful for it. I didn’t ever want to look away from her.
A tiny roar split the room. A dark blur slammed into my hip. Pain radiated, and I grunted, gripping the table to stay standing.
Two of Ezra’s five rushed forward to defend me, a little late.
“No, bad dragon!” Quinn, trying to hold back a laugh, jumped forward and grabbed the thing by its tail. The tip of its horn pulled out of my hip with a squelch. Blood soaked my tunic.
“Oh my God.” Quinn let go of the dragon and rushed forward. She placed her hand just above the puncture. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I mean, it’s been harmless.”
My head swam from her proximity, and it took me a moment to retrieve my tongue. “It’s fine. It’s only a flesh wound.”
Quinn pursed her lips and looked at me. “You wouldn’t know that’s from Monty Python. It’s not bad?”
Ezra looked at me with concern, and I suddenly realized every eye in the room anxiously waited for my answer. Quinn’s dragon hadn’t just stabbed me; he’d stabbed the Architect, and without me, my family would fall apart.
Quinn untucked my tunic, oblivious to the eyes on us. “I mean, do you need a medic? It’s bleeding a lot.”
Heat flushed my face. The wound throbbed with pain I refused to admit. Ezra’s usual stoic expression fought to hide a laugh. I reached for her hand and brought it to my lips. “I am a medic. Thank you.”
Quinn’s cheeks turned pink. “Ah, right.”
It was so hard to release her hand, but I did, before weaving the energies of the world together to close the puncture hole in my hip.
Cayden stepped to her side and pulled her back.
I shared an indecipherable look with the Lawson, who, before my most recent nap, had been relying on my orders to function.
“Cover it. Now,” Ezra stated, his gaze focused on the dragon’s horn.
“Yeah,” Quinn wrinkled her nose and pulled a bright yellow textured tube, definitely not from this time, out of her pocket-void. She shoved it on, foam crunching as the excess wobbled from the dragon’s nose.
“Can you cut this down?” she asked the room.
The little dragon whipped its head from side to side, nailing Cayden and then Rowan with the extra bright yellow material. Both looked more offended than hurt, and I’d never worked so hard to keep from laughing.
It was one of my lover’s knives that made the final cut. I beamed.
Abernathy cleared his throat, and I remembered I was in a very official strategy meeting, trying not to give Quinn any extra attention.
I focused on Cayden. “Cayden, I’m going to visit your family.”