The weight of the drizzle soaking my uniform was suddenly unbearably heavy, and I squeezed my lats as if that would fix the sensation.
It didn’t.
If I focused, I could feel the same rain on Quinn’s shoulders. The tether was wonderful and cruel. It kept her close, even when I wanted her far away from my meticulously planned life.
It had taken me years of networking to get Angela’s contract. As her suitor, I’d spent months as her loyal pet, more often punished than rewarded because of her insecurities. I didn’t love Angela, but my family needed her connections and her money.
Didn’t we?
I wasn’t sure anymore. Quinn’s presence in my life forced me to reevaluate the choices I made through a different lens.
I chose to leave my father and brothers. I hadn’t gone far. Our home sat between the Westwaters and the Griersons in Edinburgh. But I was the first one of us to move out of the house in generations.
I planned to use the Architect as a stepping stone to something better. But years later, I was still here. I’d passed up other opportunities to stay at his side. Even now, I could be touring the Scottish countryside with Angela, making connections… which sounded like my personal hell.
Instead, I dedicated myself to the Architect and his goals, which made me feel like a better person. A bit of my hair flopped onto my forehead, and water dripped into my eye.
Penniless and alone, months before I secured Angela’s contract, Ezra made me one of his generals. Weeks after that, the Architect requested a meeting with my father to forge an alliance between our families. We had nothing for the Architect. We barely kept our dilapidated home from collapsing on us. Yet he valued us, and that value felt better than all the pandering I’d done to the Moores for just a piece of their worth.
I ran my fingers across my wet forehead and plastered my hair back into place. White hair in the rain wasn’t a good look. Quinn’s steps got closer and I called on my elemental Majekah to dry myself. I wanted to look good for her. Shit. What did I want?
The drizzle immediately plastered my hair back to my head. I let it.
Quinn stopped in front of me and wrinkled her nose at the bow in my hand.
“Hey, Quinn,” I said, hating how pedestrian the address sounded. “How was your tutoringsession?”
Quinn rocked back on her heels, and her stomach flipped. The surge of crazy emotions I’d been getting from her all morning blurred into a storm in my tether. The pain in her hamstrings had brought me to my knees. The following anxiety and fear made me want to rush to her side and protect her from all of it. But I had no context for her emotions. I didn’t understand how to place them. Worse, I couldn’t ask. She didn’t know I felt them.
I was a dickhead.
“I ended up having an impromptu lesson with Winston.” Quinn poked the muddy coliseum with her shoe. “He spent most of the morning with me going over the evolution of magic over the last hundred years. He’s very, very into history. Which I guess makes sense, as he was alive for most of it.”
I grunted. I didn’t know the monsters the Architect made deals with well. Was Winston who hurt her hamstrings? No. That pain had happened while she was at The Rooster. Something was very wrong there. I’d reported it, but it usually took weeks for the Architect to catch up after he woke.
I wasn’t sure I had the authority to act independently. Horax ran The Rooster before the Architect took this castle. He was a permanent fixture.
Shit. I needed to ask Quinn what was going on. Authority or not, if Quinn needed me, I would help. But asking would lead to questions.
I tethered her without asking. Took her choice away. And now, after all that, I wanted her anyway. Shit.
“Are we doing bow work today, then?” Quinn prompted after my prolonged silence.
The rain just kept coming.
I held my hand out and watched drops bounce on my palm before pushing wet hair out of my eyes again. “Yeah. Bow work.”
I tossed her the bow. She fumbled before hooking the string with her palm.
“You want to touch the bowstring as little as possible.” I pointed at her hand. “The oil from your skin will weaken it over time.”
“Because the rain isn’t already destroying it,” she mumbled.
I grinned. “I’m glad you listened in our last session.”
Quinn scowled, but set her stance.
The rain changed from a steady drizzle into brief bouts of sun. I kept Quinn shooting until her muscles burned. I loved this part of the tether. The distinction between good pain and bad pain during physical activities was sometimes difficult for beginners to understand. Quinn’s shoulder burned like a motherfucker, but a good burn, one of the muscles breaking down to build up stronger.
