We closed the hatch and got comfortable.
Theoretically, power sharing was a part of life. Rowan and I, well, Rowan had pushed his magic into me to save Quinn. Some slaves existed solely to channel magic into people or objects. But I was a Lawson, the son of our Prophet. Control, mastery, and discipline were my world. I did not exist to give, but to take.
We sat in a circle, with our knees almost brushing. Xan held out his hand, and Rowan placed his palm in it. White and baby blue mingled. Of course, the simple, overly optimistic enforcer gave up his power so fast.
The Architect extended his hand to me, but when I took it, nothing changed.
“Think of me like an object, if that helps,” the Architect said. “Something to fill.”
I scowled. “Except I can’t save you to use later.”
“You’d have to talk to Ezra first, but I’m sure we could work something out,” the Architect responded evenly.
I jerked back, while Rowan let out a belly laugh.
“Stop fucking laughing, she’s missing.” I held my hands together in front of me, just like she did, as if that would help. “Gone. Do you even care?”
Rowan’s laughter cut off. “We’re all hurting, Cay. I won’t respond to that.”
“Again,” the Architect commanded.
We tried again. And again. Each failure turned the small space hotter. By midday, they worked in sync while I still stumbled.
“Can you send your magic into me?” I asked after yet another failed attempt.
Rowan nodded. We’d already done this to save Quinn.
Both of us turned to the Architect and waited. After a short stare-down, he inclined his head. “Trust goes both ways.”
Sweat dripped down my back, and I ripped off my tunic as if it were the reason for my discomfort.
Like me, the Architect didn’t share well. It took him several attempts and a lot of murmuring to himself before my body finally hummed with more magic than I’d ever felt. I crossed my legs, closed my eyes, and reached for my tether. Our combined magics sank into it only to swirl out. Heat pressed against my chest, but I wasn’t ready to give up.
“What’s happening, Cayden?” the Architect asked.
I didn’t answer him. I threw every bit of magic I controlled at the tether. I had to get her back. The magic hit the dead connection and once again spun back to me. Agony seared my chest, and a whimper escaped my lips as I grabbed my numb left arm.
Two hands pulled me to the ground. My back slammed against the Alun floor, and a burst of magic exploded from my chest, leaving me gasping for air, but pain free. Light burst behind my eyelids, blinding even through the darkness, and Rowan yelped.
The runes drank the sizzling magic, and we all exhaled. That had been enough magic to level The Great Hall.
“Cayden, you must communicate with us,” the Architect said.
I opened my eyes to see his baby blues hovering above me.
“Or at least Rowan, if you hate me.” He sat back and rubbed the growth on his chin. “Please. I just want to find her.”
I rubbed my chest, exactly where Quinn should be, and where our magic ejected out of me. “I don’t hate you. But I don’t want to find out this is another cult.” I was suddenly exhausted. I’d been so angry for so long. “You manipulated her and withheld her options.Youattempted to steer her life. I know because that’s what I did. Every woman who came through our doors learned to worship the Prophet and walk in the light of the Sun God.” I slammed my fist into my chest, chasingpain to drown out the guilt. “It wasn’t teaching. We broke them. Took their choices. Rebuilt them into what we wanted.” My nails bit deep into my palms until warm blood slicked my fists. “I did it. I was celebrated for it. And I believed, God help me, I believed.”
I wanted Quinn. My Quinn. I wanted her in my arms so I could hide in her strength. But she wasn’t here. I glared at the Architect. “How are you any better than my Prophet?”
Not my Prophet. Never again, but after a lifetime of conditioning, I wasn’t sure I could think of him as anything else.
The Architect fell back, catching himself on his hands. Power throbbed around us. Rowan rubbed a dark bruise forming on his bicep where he hadn’t been able to dodge the explosion of our combined magics.
“There’s nothing I can say that will change what you think.” The Architect folded his legs under him and grimaced. “But you’re right. I did all of those things.”
I furrowed my eyebrows. I’d expected denial or explanations, not acceptance of my accusation.
