Everly was on a roll, and I’d just woken up. I needed coffee.
I hadn’t even said it aloud before a warm mug landed in my hands. Rowan released it with a wink. The tether wasn’t mind-reading, but this was very close. Maybe this connection wouldn’t be so bad.
Everly and Brit both leaned toward me.
I took a sip of coffee. I wasn’t good at social events. No. Old Quinn was horrible at social events; she would have crumbled. But she didn’t survive the crash. I did. And this version of me? She wasn’t going to be anyone’s pawn again.
I turned to Brit and gave her a toothy grin. “I’ve heard I’m a handful.”
“Fuck yes,” Brit said. “It’d be boring otherwise.”
Chapter 32
Cayden
Shimmeringribbonsofbaby-bluemagic and bright gauze draped the vaulted ceiling of The Great Hall. The Architect’s sleeping cat flag hung from every corner. Lively music drifted from a complicated stage on the far side of the room, while an entrance to the left led to a little market with literally every vendor on The Mile giving out free samples and making connections.
My stomach twisted with unease. The party had just started, and already there were more people than I was comfortable with and barely an enforcer to be seen.
We didn’t know who rigged the train tunnel, but we managed to recover the objects used to do it. None of them contained the runes of my family; instead, traces of light purples and pinks mixed with a muddy brown. The blend made it impossible to track.
If it wasn’t my family, it could have been anyone.
I ended my circuit of the Mixer where I started it, just shy of the double doors, thrown open wide so anyone could come in.
Alexander—no, the Architect—wasn’t who I expected. I wouldn’t let myself befriend Quinn’s captor. If I had his abilities, I would have ripped through the minds of every person with hints of purple, pink, or brown magic until I found whoever threatened Quinn. But the mentalist lived by some self-imposed code that leveled the playing field.
My Prophet wasn’t a mentalist. The stark contrast between his control over my life and Alexander’s refusal to interfere became a river of raging emotions. I struggled to keep my footing on either bank.
I growled. Not Alexander.
Another family waltzed through the doors in patterned lace and asymmetrical designs, looking like fashion sketches brought to life. Smiles as straight as their hemming filled their faces. Coming from a locked-down compound, I understood the Architect’s goals academically, but this was giving people a peek at our lives. It wasn’t right.
My negativity perfectly contrasted the heart now beating next to mine. It was both incredible and pure torture. I didn’t like knowing Quinn’s feelings without understanding what caused them. I’d clung to Hero’s updates on her pampering and prep with his twin.
No matter how much I ached for her, I had to keep my distance. I was a dirty Lawson. My presence at her side would hurt the independent, available picture we wanted to paint.
I hated when Everly was right.
I brushed my fingers over the jeweled bracelet hidden beneath the sleeve of my white suit. The uneven line of white and silver gems grounded me. Quinn made it; it was imperfect, intentional, and hers. She trusted me. I’d never take it off.
Guests started to arrive in force. I snagged a drink off a passing server’s tray. The caramel-haired bartender who’d kept Quinn’s TBfrom her quickly vanished behind a trio of men in kilts of ash and white.
The rune on my wrist ignited, burning, blackening, and pulsing with command. Pain lanced up my arm, ordering me to stand at the front of The Great Hall in a few hours.My heart pounded. We’d always declined the invitation. But this year, my brothers touched Quinn. This year, they were coming.
Fear slid under my skin. In public, they couldn’t do much.
I hoped.
I focused on the stream of new arrivals, all dressed to impress. Sparkly, short dresses and long, elegant gloves to prevent skin contact were the trend. Similar sparkles graced a few men who prefer suits with too many frills to be practical. A McDonald walked in wearing Quinn’s prom dress… coincidence or power play? I didn’t care enough to ask.
Finally, I felt Quinn move through the tether. My assessment of the party took a back seat as I savored the sensation of knowing where she was. When I realized I’d tethered her, I almost lost it. Control is what I was running from. It was everything I was trying to free Quinn from.
Saying I did not adjust well to the changes was an understatement. Rowan had been the one to calm me down. It was his voice, telling me over and over that the knowledge I gained wasn’t bad; only acting on it against Quinn’s wishes was. While I raged and wallowed in self-pity because of what I’d done, he’d quietly accepted all of it. I’d clung to the oversized, optimistic enforcer, who saw the world through the light my Sun God should have given me. And now, I wasn’t sure if I could claim Quinn was my only friend.
I knew the instant she entered The Great Hall. Rowan and I both looked up as if marionettes controlled by the same string.
Her toe caught, and she made a small hop, arms flailing awkwardly but adorably to keep her balance. A perfect blush spread across her cheeks, too flawless to be real.
