Chapter 26
Quinn
Ezra had described The Pit to me, so walking into the train station shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did.
Instead of teeming with life, it felt like a cave, one distant dot of light at the center, impossibly far away.
Voices murmured from the boxes and raised seats, but not a single soul moved on the floor.
As my eyes adjusted, the dot resolved into the ring, waiting for me, and only me. I suddenly felt very underdressed.
Not knowing what was coming, I’d thrown on yoga pants, layered shirts, and my bumblebee hoodie, bloodstains and all. A twisted good-luck charm by now.
“Ugh, this is dull. I’d have gone with flashing colors, but the Abernathys begged for boring.” Ravana stepped forward, and I followed.
I didn’t know the tests, but four families meant four trials in four days.
I took a deep breath. I could do this. Brit and Joe flanked me, dressed in blacks and one of Brit’s pit-fighting get-ups, while Ezra, still disguised as a Westwater, hovered behind them, ready to step into my shadow at a moment’s notice.
The ring changed from a dot of brightness into the familiar round fighting space. Someone had resurfaced the floor to pristine white. Dead center sat a simple wooden desk. A scrawl glowed golden on its surface while a simple armless chair waited for me.
“Test, as in an actual written test?” I blurted.
“Figures.” Ravana gave an exaggerated sigh. “Trust the Abernathys to turn a trial into homework. Honestly, Edinburgh would be better off if the Westwaters ran the whole damn place.”
The closer we got to the ring, the louder the voices rose. I caught a bit of movement from the seats under the boxes. So, it was more than just the four families watching. I swallowed as nerves filled my stomach.
“Top box, upper left,” Ezra whispered. “Xan, Rowan, Cayden. I’ll stay close for your magic. We believe in you.”
He melted back into the dark. My heart warmed.
“You’ve got this,” Brit squeezed my elbow, and I hoped I smiled in return.
A ramp led up to the round ring on the far side. I walked up it alone while my friends took up guard positions on the floor. Once at the top, I squinted and shaded my eyes, looking for my guys, but I could only make out a few shapes in the gloom.
Everyone could see me; I couldn’t see them. Sweat slicked my skin. I laced my fingers to stop the shaking. It didn’t help. This was the complete opposite of fading into the background.
“Take a seat, please,” a familiar, mellow male voice said.
I lowered my hand and looked over. Jamie Abernathy gave me a reassuring smile and pulled out the chair behind the little desk.
There was no turning back now.
I glanced into the darkness once more. Not just Xan, Alex, and Teivel too. A literal evil piece of shit who wanted to own me, and a crazy mentalist who wanted what he didn’t have.
With shaking hands, I sat in the offered chair and let Jamie help push me close to the desk.
“Answer the questions to the best of your ability.” Jamie’s voice carried; the crowd’s mumbling died. He pointed up. “Your answers, as well as how long it took you to form them, will appear above you, though our family will determine after the fact if you’ve passed or not.”
I swallowed hard. I’d never been bad at school, but I didn’t get top marks either. Usually, it was my work ethic that balanced out my average test scores.
Jamie set a glass of water on the desk. “Start whenever you’re ready.” He backed away. Two other metallic-haired Abernathys, a woman and a man, watched me closely.
My heart raced. I wished I had a pen or something to fiddle with, but writing was literally a thing of the past. I forced myself to take a few deep breaths and read the first question.
Who are the Architect’s allies?
I was suddenly sitting between Ezra and Xan as they taught me about the families.
Warmth pooled low, a needy zing zapping my clit. My blush scorched. Was PTAD, Post-Traumatic Arousal Disorder, a thing?
Worse, I was having these thoughts while everyone watched. For a brief second, I thought I would actually catch fire. I chugged down the water, started making a list, then stopped.
Shit. If I listed every ally Xan and Ezra had taught me, did that prove free will, or prove Xan controlled me because I knew what he knew? I reread the question, looking for any hidden tricks. But there weren’t any. It was just that simple.
I side-eyed Jamie, Ezra’s information officer. Answering honestly would hand Xan’s intel to everyone. Would that prove my free will? Maybe, but if Jamie, Xan’s information officer, had written the test, he would have known that. So, what did he want me to write?
A headache pulsed to life.
I had no idea what to do. What proved I was in control of my mind?
Too much looked guilty. Too little looked worse. No time limit. Every second dragged. Yeah. No. I had to answer.
An idea uncurled, easing the headache before it rooted. I was overthinking. Surprise. All I needed was to be me… just like I had with my Intentions.
Who are the Architect’s allies?
It depends on who you ask, and where the wind of popular opinion’s blowing.
I made the scrawl before I could think about it too hard and dropped it onto the gold sheet, where it absorbed my answer. Colors bloomed above me. The sound of talking voices rose. Jamie took the first question from me, and a new gold scrawl landed on my desk.
Who are the Architect’s enemies?
This one came faster, and a little less judgmental.
The Architect doesn’t believe in slavery. The easy answer: body snatchers and anyone who uses slaves. But life isn’t black-and-white. Allies and enemies live on a sliding scale.
I made my scrawl and added it to the page. Voices murmured. I heard someone say: ‘The wee thing doesn’t have a brain cell of her own.’ Followed by a more distant voice: ‘That’s what critical thinking looks like. No one’s controlling that mind.’
A new question landed on my desk.
What family was the Architect born into?
I hesitated. Xan never told me; Erick did. Most facts I knew about Xan came from other people. Did Jamie know that? I answered before I could lose my nerve:
The Silvers.
The questions kept coming, straightforward on the surface, traps underneath. Some repeated with tiny tweaks, trying to catch me. I couldn’t always match my first wording, but I answered from the heart, with enough snark to keep them thinking.
My head ached, and my mind spun. By the end, so many split opinions drifted down about my free will that I wasn’t sure I wanted to think for myself anymore. I honestly had no idea if I’d passed or not.
Ezra slipped from the shadows to walk beside me, close but not touching. “You did well.”
I threw up my hands. “Did I?”
My brain felt like sludge; anxiety hit in waves. If I messed this up, I could lose everything. Worse, Xan could lose everything. I couldn’t let that happen.
The next day, I woke wrapped in Ezra’s arms and snuggled into his chest. I guess my nerves must have cut through Silas’s rules.
Morning light filtered through the thick material of my little tent.
It wasn’t as lovely as my castle dorm, but Ezra was here, and Erick wasn’t snoring or humping a stranger. So I loved it.
I threw a leg over his hip and bumped his morning wood.
He rolled, pinning me with a bruising kiss. I took it greedily until he tried to deepen it. Morning breath? Hard pass. After another try, he changed tactics and kissed his way down my neck, cupping my breasts and continuing south.
“Ezra.” I half giggled, half moaned. “What are you doing?”
He answered by cupping my sex and pressing what had been my dry panties into the moisture quickly building between my folds. I barely managed to muffle a moan, and the sound of another tent waking up cut into the moment.
Silas and his lovers knew Ezra was Ezra, but six other groups crammed into the big room. If I moaned Ezra’s name, or even a fake one, his new persona would crumble. And that would be the end of that.
A laugh cut into the morning air. “Oh, you think so, Joe-baby.”
I bit my lower lip. Brit had spent the first few nights in my tent, until Ravana realized if she didn’t give Brit her own, she and Joe would go at it on the communal couch. Brit got a tent real fast.
“Your melons, boo. I need those in my face, right now,” Joe growled.
I assumed Brit got her melons squeezed because she let out a long moan.
Although the two weren’t quiet, ever, this was something else.
Ezra pressed his palm into my clit, and I squirmed and whispered. “Ezra, we can’t get caught.”
Brit moaned louder.
“You have good friends, Kitten; now lie back and let me explore.” Ezra pressed me back to the mattress and burrowed under our blankets until he was just a lump below my waistline.
Kitten. I grinned and lay back as he kissed and caressed the inside of my thighs. Without warning, he moved my panties to the side, slipped the tip of his finger into my opening, and dragged up. My inner walls gripped at nothing, and I stifled a little cry. I wanted so much more than a finger.
Brit let out a dramatic moaning scream, followed by a slow grunt from Joe. “You’re like right, boooo. Ah, my cock fits. I like your pussy, your shoulders, and your fucking face.”
Joe’s words killed the mood. I choked on a laugh instead of a moan, and Ezra slid his finger away, tugging my panties back.
“Shut up and put a baby in me, Joe,” Brit moaned.
“Boo, this dirty talk. I think I’m pretty good at it.” A slap rang, making me assume Joe slapped Birt’s ass. “I could play you like a bongo.” A flurry of different-pitched slaps followed.
Ezra lay beside me, hands behind his head, as we listened, whether they were actually going at it or just putting on a show for us.
It was really sweet. And honestly, even if Ezra and I had continued, my thoughts were already drifting toward my second trial.
Ezra would have had his work cut out to keep me in the moment.
“Does skipping a boink prove free will?” I whispered.