I didn’t know who ‘he’ was. I wasn’t sure I understood half of what Cayden said.
Another pop of green magic glowed from my left this time. This wasn’t over.
I clutched Quinn tighter, every instinct screaming for my lover’s help, but I couldn’t risk splitting his focus. He was defending our home. He would feel the sluggishness in my mind. The sound of something buzzing, which I didn’t have words for, assaulted my ears.
“Do you hear that?” I asked.
Cayden shook his head, and a weak ball of forest-green magic hit his back. Fire flashed in his eyes. He grabbed the hilt of my short sword, pulled it from its sheath, and ran toward the man still casting.
“He’s dead. You don’t have to do this anymore,” Cayden roared.
“For the Prophet!” the man screamed, already casting again.
A second ball of power from the opposite side of the room flew toward me, and I once again caught it on the same injured shoulder.
Cayden screamed and shoved the sword through the chest of the man at his feet before standing and sliding to the next man still breathing, and then the next. In five short blows, the final orange tie-dyed man stilled.
With Quinn pulled tight against my chest, I stood in the middle of death. The whir of metal grinding into something wood-like buzzed, though only I could hear it.
Cayden pulled the robe off the last man he killed and threw it over his head. He rushed back to my side and gently touched Quinn’s cold face with bloodstained fingers.
“We need Xan.” The tears streaming down his face contrasted with his cold, unnaturally even voice. “It’s her mind, the cerulean blue. I should have told Xan. I’m a fool.”
I didn’t understand, but finding Xan was always my answer.
Cayden and I bolted out of the room and ran through the massive building. A few women peeked at us from behind doors.
Cayden hesitated briefly. A woman in her forties, who could easily have been his twin if they were the same age, met his gaze. Something passed between them that I didn’t understand, and the woman’s posture filled with steel.
“The Prophet’s no more,” Cayden said flatly. “The observation deck is filled with the dead. The Sun God will not judge your entrance.”
The fear in the woman’s eyes hardened. She nodded once and went back into the room. Cayden sprinted away, leaving me no option but to chase after him.
Quinn shivered in my arms. My uneven steps, the stumble at the stairs, even the pounding through doorways did nothing to rouse her mind.
Something was wrong with me. The buzz didn’t change, no matter where we ran.
We exited into the night, and I cursed the cold winter air, which would only worsen Quinn’s chill. Only the stars and the moon provided us with light. Instead of following Cayden, I ran toward the last place I saw the post chaise. Quinn needed heat; he needed warmth.
I stripped in record time and pulled Quinn’s sweater off, finding her bare under it. Her feet bled, and a few shards of glass were still stuck in the cuts. I couldn’t dwell on how she ended up like this, only on what she needed now.
Heat.
She was small enough that I could slip into the insulated, weatherproof package chest with her held against me.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Cayden asked.
Though the words were a threat, his voice remained cold and steady, as if his body moved on its own without his awareness.
“She’s freezing. Close the lid. Get us to the Architect.”
Cayden’s gaze flickered. Without saying a word, he stepped to the driver’s seat and shut the lid, leaving me in total darkness. I fought the urge to dwell on how exposed I felt as I drew Quinn nearer. Theground shifted beneath us. Help was at least an hour away and still engaged in the fight for my home.
The buzzing cut off. Quinn’s cry came muffled and distant, but it still dragged tears to my eyes. “Breathe, Kitten,” I whispered into her hair. “Stay strong. I’m going to fix this.”
Chapter 44
Quinn
