Chapter 27
Alexander
I watched Ezra lift Quinn off the ring, not through my eyes, but Alex’s. Two blurry shapes, the loves of my life, briefly merged, then separated. If not for Quinn’s crystal locks, I’d have lost her among the shifting bodies.
Alex’s vision was terrible. It was miraculous he could make anything out. It didn’t matter how much magic sped up the natural process of healing. Once a person didn’t have the energy to maintain a body part, magic couldn’t help. Getting old was a bridge we’d all face.
‘So severe.’ Alex’s voice bled into my thoughts. ‘You were such a serious kid, too.’
I took a final deep breath, though, like his eyesight, Alex’s chest didn’t rise and fall with the strength of mine. We didn’t need words; the body told on itself. As I finished my breath out, I looked back through my own eyes.
Rowan had my wrist in a death grip… and my dick sported a hard-on I hadn’t ordered.
“Alex’s… hasn’t worked in a while,” Rowan muttered. “We spent that last hour hearing all about that.”
I let my head drop and thumped the back of my chair. Exactly what I needed: Rowan and Cayden watching Alex try to enjoy my body like a borrowed suit.
Although I loved parts of my mental powers, the lack of control I lost over my anatomy was not one of them.
“He didn’t get far,” Rowan said. “Big mouth, though. Keep him talking, and he forgets all about her.”
I waved a hand and adjusted myself. “Alex isn’t mentally stable. The longer he wears the Architect’s suit, the more control he gains. Thankfully, my Majekah only heals the body, and these trials are already halfway over.”
“Weird, switching bodies like that?” Rowan asked.
I gave him a flat look. “Yes. Like wearing someone else’s filthy suit.” I rubbed my arms. “But a mentalist can only fully control one person at a time. Switching bodies is the only way to guarantee Alex isn’t using his magic.”
I leaned forward, elbows on the rail of our box, cutting off the conversation while I scanned for the loves of my life.
It was still a shock to see Ezra with his short, light hair and glasses. I knew what his long hair represented and the trauma he must have relived cutting it off. On some level, it must have been freeing.
I hated to admit it, but Ezra and I had been stuck in a pattern for years. Quinn hadn’t caused any problems between us. She exposed the cracks we’d pretended didn’t exist.
I caught a glimpse of Quinn as she exited, but no sign of Ezra, which was as it should be.
In his memory, they cooked, joyful and uncomplicated.
He fed her cake until her stomach ached.
He hadn’t shared that with me because he needed me to see it, but because it was something he loved.
Until now, I hadn’t realized there was a difference.
‘Our girl’s incredible,’ Alex breathed.
I balled my fists. ‘Do not talk to me like we are friends. You invaded her mind.’
‘After she contacted me; she invited me,’ Alex said.
The moment Quinn touched her collar filled my memory from Alex’s point of view. His spells dissolved, leaving raw, hollow magic that called to him, only to find a young powerhouse on the other side.
‘She was scared. I helped her,’ he insisted.
And he believed it. He didn’t see what he’d done as an invasion. I filled my mind with every image and word I could come up with to make him understand how wrong he was.
Alex took it all in, though I had no concept of his reaction. We were out of each other’s minds now.
‘We could’ve been friends, too,’ he said after a moment. ‘You were like a son to me. Such a fast learner, and you’re still using your skills.’
‘I didn’t make that collar.’ I clenched my jaw. ‘And if you wanted to be my dad so badly, you could have come with me when I left.’
Resentment, I wasn’t sure I could ever let go of, soured my thoughts. I’d been so young. I’d spent my life being told I was alone and my Majekah was wrong, only to find myself with another mentalist—someone like me. Alex was right. We could have been friends or closer, but that’s not what happened.
Alex didn’t respond. He never would.
Cayden tapped his foot. The boxes emptied. We were among the last still seated.
But as long as Alex sat in his booth collecting the surface thoughts of everyone around him, I had to do the same. I wasn’t playing nice Architect anymore. I was born with an advantage, and I was foolish for not utilizing it.
“Did Alex do anything?” Cayden asked at last.
“No.” I leaned back. “Whatever plan Teivel has up his sleeve, his mentalist either doesn’t know about it, or it doesn’t involve these tests.”
“How’d we do today?” Rowan asked.
I put my hands in the air. “I would say good. People’s surface thoughts are all over the place.
” I didn’t look at Rowan or Cayden, but I let their response to my words fill my subconscious.
My mind magic still made Rowan nervous, but in this, he was grateful.
Cayden straight-up didn’t care. Without magic, his Prophet had controlled his entire existence.
I wasn’t special.
‘At least you’re honest about it,’ Cayden thought loud enough I couldn’t miss it.
I studied the much too intuitive rune-master, who’d just guessed my exact thought, before continuing as if nothing had happened.
“I couldn’t hear myself in any of her answers.
I certainly wouldn’t have suggested handing Matt over to myself.
I wouldn’t have even mentioned that possibility because it would make people think about it.
So possibly really bad, because now people are thinking about it.
” I steepled my fingers. “I think Deirdre’s attempt to use this as a platform to discredit me was also blatant, and her lack of research on Seth shows her true goals.
Whether anyone cares about that more than the question of Quinn’s free will remains to be seen. ”
Rowan nodded.
“I think her response to Erick was the most interesting,” Cayden began.
We didn’t move until I felt Alex and his keeper retreat—slinking back to whatever playpen the McDonalds were keeping them in.
Only then did we step out as a trio. Rowan took position at my back, instinctive and silent, while Cayden walked at my side, already dissecting Quinn’s answers aloud.
I wanted to go to Quinn. I couldn’t.
Ezra’s nightly report and Brit’s TB messages would have to be enough. I buried myself in Cayden’s analysis and hoped it would keep the waiting at bay.
Once back at my castle, an awkward tension kept us lingering outside the stable. I didn’t need to read anyone’s mind. For better or worse, none of us were ready to retreat to our dark, empty accommodations—temporary or otherwise.
“My desk should be finished,” Cayden said, rubbing his horse’s neck. “We’ll check it now.”
He hadn’t asked; he’d declared.
Rowan and I shared a look. The changes in Cayden over the last few days hadn’t been subtle. His shoulders were straighter. He’d taken to wearing the standard trainee pants, but had pilfered one of my enforcer’s simple black tunics. A single green earring gleamed on one ear once more.
A few flakes drifted down. Winter would blanket us any day now, and the world would hunker down until spring brought new resources.
Inside my office, Cayden’s desk stood built to spec. I hated the arrangement, but I knew when I needed help, and when a terrible friend needed mine.
Rowan cleared his throat. “I can cook tonight, if you want to join us.”
I raised an eyebrow in surprise. Rowan had never shown much interest in spending time with me socially. He was loyal; I trusted him with my life, but this felt different. Quieter. More personal.
“What are you,” Cayden asked dryly, “an old contracted couple?”
Oh. Rowan meant us as in me. I didn’t mind that at all.
Rowan bumped Cayden’s shoulder. “One looking for a third wheel. A young, scrawny twink we can break between us.”
Heat rose to my cheeks. Rowan was baiting Cayden. Despite the rune mage not being remotely scrawny or twinkish, the picture burned into my fantasies.
‘Cayden and Rowan are straight. Cayden and Rowan are straight,’ I chanted to Ezra.
‘Yes,’ my always practical lover responded.
I missed whatever comeback Cayden gave Rowan, but as a trio, we headed to my apartment. Rowan marched into my kitchen while Cayden wandered the rest, no doubt checking for booby traps and torture devices.
After completing a full circle, he pulled out a bottle of wine. “Got a bottle opener?”
The question was so normal after literally weeks of fighting, I almost didn’t know how to respond. “It’s in the kitchen. I’ll grab it and some glasses.”
Moments later, Cayden and I held glasses of wine while Rowan clattered around, probably destroying Ezra’s careful organization.
I took one sip, and the rune mage looked at me expectantly. “Um, it’s very red? With some dark fruits and tannins, if I remember correctly, that’s the stuff that makes your mouth feel dry.”
Cayden took a deep breath. “I’m surprised you don’t know more about wine.”
“Why?”
“You’re the Architect. You host, you schmooze.”
“I’m also the son of a blacksmith.” More red slid down my throat. “Who sold me to the body snatchers so he could move his entire family farther south and start over without the taint of a mentalist haunting him.”
Cayden’s eyes narrowed, but before either of us could move forward, my lover’s voice filled my mind. ‘Quinn’s upset, and I don’t know how to fix it. Can you talk to her through me?’
‘Of course, let me in,’ I responded immediately.
I lay down on the bed. “I’ll be right back.”
“Wha—” Cayden began, but I was out of my body before he finished the word.
I slipped into Ezra and found myself in a dark dome, settling onto something soft. Quinn sat cross-legged in front of me; she wasn’t crying, but wild flyaways frizzed from her hair, and she had a book with metal spirals on one side that didn’t look like it was from our time in her hands.