Chapter 18
Alexander
I jerked awake from a dream I couldn’t remember, but it hadn’t been good.
For a moment, I didn’t recognize the squares of gold and black above my bed.
I hadn’t gone to sleep here. I reached for Ezra’s side of the bed, only to find it cold.
The smell of coffee still lingered in the air.
I found a lukewarm cup next to my bed, along with a plum-purple scrawl and the TB I’d fallen asleep making last night.
You fell asleep in your office. Go back to bed. I’ve got this.
I took a sip of coffee and shook Ezra’s note, releasing the magic back into the world. My unintentional extended sleep left me feeling recovered, physically if not emotionally.
Quinn was no longer within my walls. I’d lost control… I could lose everything. I let the terror, desperately trying to crawl out of me, shake my frame once before I squashed it.
I was the Architect. No one ruled my destiny but myself. I could still fix this.
My TB system filled my subconscious with messages. The vast majority I didn’t touch; they weren’t my business. But my officers, and now Brit and Joe, were essential information.
The clash of the families still buzzed in their words. Somehow, we’d managed to disengage from our unexpected fight without any bloodshed, during which Quinn vanished with Ravana. I would have been beside myself, but Brit was at her side. I had no choice but to trust.
The next few hours had been painful at best. The families would not let go of their need to test Quinn’s free will, even the Abernathys. I’d given my allies at the bottom of my Mile everything, and they still turned against me.
My heart hurt.
In ten days, Quinn would go through four tests, one devised by each family.
I had two options. I could use my magic to make everyone believe she’d passed, even though she didn’t take a single test. Alex would make that very complicated, but I trusted my creativity.
Like when I took my castle: it would work at first. However, under scrutiny, assuming I did everything perfectly, we’d still be back exactly where we started.
It was a short-term solution with long-term consequences.
Option two, I could sit back and let Quinn take their tests.
No one wanted to hurt Quinn. Although I doubted the McDonalds had her best interests at heart, they at least wanted her physically healthy and ready to pop out babies.
The tests wouldn’t prove anything. But if she passed, maybe this nightmare would end. Maybe… Should.
I groaned.
The tests were a farce, a setup. There was no way to assess whether I had altered her memories. The only speculation available was to compare a person's memories to physical evidence.
I ran my fingers through my hair before pulling.
What was the right thing to do here?
I grabbed my TB, focusing on something simpler: Joe’s messages to Rowan, half gushing about Brit, half mapping Westwater’s Assembly Hall.
Unlike the Griersons—or even my own family—no one had personal space in the Assembly Hall. Each massive room belonged to a different branch, with families living communally, mostly in mini tent cities among food stores, makeshift comforts, and necessities.
Joe’s map showed a few shared private rooms, loosely controlled at best. Power defined placement: the family head at the center, the weaker branches pushed outward, all locked in constant competition.
Ravana kept Quinn at her side, quartered in the room farthest from the center, closest to The Pit. Ravana belonged to Silas—the Master of The Pit—who wasn’t a Westwater, but a power in his own right.
Deirdre hadn’t objected. Ravana’s loyalty lay with Silas, not the Westwaters, and that made Quinn someone else’s problem.
I turned to Brit’s messages next. Unlike Joe, she’d directly contact Ezra and me.
Moss Green: Quinn’s safe. We’re with Ravana.
Moss Green: Visitors are encouraged but not guaranteed.
I closed my eyes, wishing I could feel Quinn to know if what Brit said was true, but her heart no longer beat next to mine. I put my hand over my chest and allowed myself to exist in the loss for a minute before pushing it away.
Everything I’d worked so hard to prevent was happening anyway. If the world was going to punish me for my pursuit of Quinn, I might as well publicly pursue her. Quinn was my world, and she needed to see that. I’d been a fool and an asshole trying to keep it a secret.
‘Is there anything I need to take care of today?’ I asked Ezra.
‘No. Take that TB to Quinn. I’ll meet you in the stables.’
I dressed in my simple trainee uniform and hurried through my castle.
The damage was mostly repaired now. A few of my lectures were up and running, and the fight branch of my program was in full swing.
Teivel’s alliance with the McDonalds would not change my plans to clear out the tunnels, where I was sure at least some of Teivel’s body snatchers resided.
Honestly, if Teivel was down there, it would be even better.
Ezra already had our horses saddled, and we sped down The Mile toward Westwater lands. We slowed at the first tollgate. As usual, I checked my instincts to read the surface thoughts of everyone around me… and then asked myself why.
The Westwaters turned against me. Now that I had something they wanted, they gave up on pretending to be nice and rubbed my failure in my face. I didn’t need to dig deep into my mental magic; I just had to unplug the extra set of ears I’d filled with hopeful crap.
Seven years of restraint wasted. If I’d listened, Matt never would’ve touched her.
Between one heartbeat and the next, thoughts and images drifted into my consciousness. It had been years since I had truly let myself use this part of me, and it felt so good. Existence became pieces on an invisible board.
We came to a stop in front of a large metal gate connected to buildings on either side of it. The left had been bricked up, while the right held a single door. Two guards nodded at us. One kept his focus, assessing our body language and visible weapons, while the other’s mind wandered.
‘Three more guards through the door on our right,’ I sent to Ezra. ‘Two opportunists are at our backs, but they won't breach the gate. No threats on the far side of the gate, though there is a second trio of opportunists just at the edge of my range.’
‘Received,’ Ezra responded, letting his sword arm drift to his side.
Opportunists would prey on the unarmed and weak. I might appear it in my trainee browns, but Ezra, in his enforcer blacks, was armed to the teeth. I doubted any of them would dare, and if they changed their minds, I would know.
A giddy bubble made a grin split my face.
The man assessing me grew tense. His studded leather squeaked as he dropped his hand to the hilt of his sword. This was me. I knew things others didn’t. It wasn’t a bad thing. It was power.
“Another from the Architect.” The lily-haired man said. “I wonder if he’ll pay twice, too.”
Another.
‘Three guesses at who got here before us, and your first three don’t count,’ I said to Ezra.
My lover didn’t respond, though Cayden’s face appeared in his surface thoughts.
I chuckled, which made the man grip his sword hilt. He wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but he was observant enough. I hadn’t said a word, yet clearly, something was happening that he didn’t understand.
I took a deep breath and reined in my playful joy, bordering on overconfidence. We were still in a bad situation with Quinn. The men in front of us were armed almost as much as my lover. This shouldn’t be playful.
I tossed him more than the number in his head. “For your troubles.”
He ran his magic through my coin before sliding to the side.
“The Assembly Hall’s straight, two lefts and a right.” He said, assuming our destination correctly. “Steer clear of the Marks. They be planning something.”
From his surface thoughts, I gathered the Marks were a branch of Westwaters looking to move up in the family.
Internal politics didn’t concern me, so I didn’t dig further.
Ezra and I took off at a trot. At the final turn, we found ourselves at another blockade.
Unlike the last one, a hastily made structure of wood and scrap had been pulled across most of the road.
A burly, sandy-haired man stood in the only passable space with a molting black eye.
“It’s double what you paid at the last gate.” He spat before letting his Majekah brighten his gaze.
Although his posture was confident, he was injured. A rune of forest green kept skidding across his surface thoughts, followed by cursing. Cayden had kicked his ass rather than pay the toll. The rune mage probably needed the outlet.
I took a deep breath and tossed him a single coin.
The man’s lips curled up distastefully.
“I would take that,” I said. “Or, Ezra can blacken your other eye.”
My lover grinned.
The man snarled but stepped to the side.
After two more turns, the road ended at a long, narrow square. The Assembly Hall wasn’t a fortress like mine; it was art, crumbling and defiant, gargoyles glaring down as if judging intruders.
A few bridges connecting nearby buildings glowed in shades of tan, nearly disappearing against the cloudy sky. We chose a direction and rode on, searching for a main entrance.
We didn’t have to go far.
A man in his early fifties stood with his arms crossed over his chest in front of a large double door studded with gold.
The hilt of a comically large claymore protruded from his back.
He would be a monster, even compared to Rowan.
A massive, jagged scar ran from his jaw down his throat.
Unlike the collection of studded leather we’d seen so far, this man wore a thick set of canvas cargo pants and a sleek white button-down shirt covered by a brown waistcoat.
Thick, curly, raisin-colored hair adorned his head and matched his glowing eyes.
I’d never met the man who ran The Pit, but I knew his description, and this had to be him. Silas, The Pit Master.
Silas raised a hand. “I’m assuming you’ve come to see Quinn?”
“I have,” I answered, dismounting and walking toward him.
Ezra flanked me, leaving our well-trained mounts with their reins on the ground.
Silas grinned. “Why?”
I came to a stop right in front of him and held out my hand. “My name’s Alexander.”
“I know your name, Architect. Commander Ezra’s too.” Silas didn’t uncross his arms. “Quinn’s got a lot to say about both of you. But your name wasn’t my question.”
I inclined my head, and my mind raced. This was a test. Silas implied Quinn had confided in him, but I couldn’t picture it. Whatever he was looking for couldn’t be information.
“Why do I want to see Quinn?” I confirmed his question, stalling and letting my magic pick up on his surface thoughts.
Blood. Rivers of it running across The Pit invaded my magic. I quickly pulled back. He’d dealt with mentalists before; the best defense was focusing on a vivid memory. Unless I actually dug into his mind, I could only see what he presented.
Not slipping. I hadn’t invaded, only skimmed the surface. Some people were better at reading body language than others. This was the same. Slipping would be invading his mind, something I had no interest in doing.
“She needs us,” Ezra said into my silence.
I nodded. “I need to find a way to get Alex’s collar off her.”
Silas frowned. “Then you can’t see her.”
His refusal sliced deep. Ezra reached for his sword; I blocked him.
“Is there a reason you’re refusing us?” I asked.
Silas uncrossed his arms. “I feel like it?”
My eyes widened, and I leaned forward in disbelief.
Silas shook his head and studied me. “You truly chose not to use your mind magic.” He crossed his tree trunks for arms over his chest. “And you believed me without question. How much did you pay at the first toll?”
“Over.” I bit out.
“And the blockade?” he asked.
I wrinkled my nose. “I didn’t blacken his other eye.”
“Gullible, but not stupid, then.” Silas motioned toward our horses. “I suggest you return via the East toll to avoid both a second time. Do you need an escort?”
“I’m here to see Quinn,” I repeated. “She’s um.” I wasn’t her suitor; in fact, I didn’t have a title for whatever the three of us were. Our formal Intentions still sat in my pocket-void, but I needed to say something. “She’s important to me.”
Silas shook his head. “My sword’s important to me. It needs me. Its sheath is its collar, and without me, it can’t be drawn.” Two people came out of a side door. “Quinn isn’t a sword. Until you can give me a better answer, you’re not welcome here.”
Tension filled the air. I couldn’t see my lover, but I knew his eyes glowed. Silas’s shadow flickered. The man reached above his head and gripped the pommel of the claymore. Magic crackled.
Ezra and I could cut through him. We could cut through all of them. But that would be an act of war. Not only that, but it would be wrong.
I stepped back and held my hands out on either side of me. “You’re right. Quinn isn’t a sword. I chose my words poorly.”
Silas narrowed his eyes. I’d changed my tune too fast. He didn’t think I was genuine. My heart fell.
“You can take some time to think up some better ones.” Silas released his claymore. “I have two suitresses, and I fought and keep fighting to deserve them.” He flexed. “I don’t want your bullshit, Architect. I don’t want your magic.” He waved and turned his back. “Good luck next time.”
‘Are we just going to stand here?’ Ezra growled in my mind.
‘No,’ I said. ‘We’re going to leave.’
Ezra grabbed my arm; his anger now leveled at me.
‘I’ll fix this,” I snarled. ‘I just need more information. Quinn is safe.’
Ezra released his grip on my arm and turned.
My heart pinched, but he’d understand. He just needed a minute to cool off.
The double doors opened and shut, leaving the two of us standing outside.
Movement caught the corner of my eye. Two desperate-looking men focused on the gold earrings in my left ear and the chain peeking out of the top of my tunic.
“We need to go,” I said.
Ezra grunted.
“Cayden got here first and clearly didn’t make it inside either,” I said as we mounted up. “I’ll figure out what Silas wants, and we’ll try again tomorrow.”
Ezra stayed silent, jaw tight, thoughts locked deep. Two men slid from the shadows, serrated blades eager for blood.
I’d have to prod my lover about it later. We kicked our horses into a ground-eating trot and headed toward the East toll.