“Why are you even here, Lawson?” Rowan asked.
“For the same reason as you,” Cayden responded.
Rowan growled. “I was ordered to escort her here.”
“I volunteered.” Half of Cayden’s mouth twitched up into a smile. “No one needed to order me to be at Quinn’s side.”
Rowan crossed his arms over his chest as if daring Cayden to say that again.
I sighed. Maybe they needed to duke it out again, and I stepped forward.
The two flanked me like bodyguards, and I continued toward the guarded entry. Every step brought me closer to Chancellor Morgen, and my thoughts moved inward. I didn’t know if I was terrified or excited. What if she couldn’t help me, or worse, what if she could, but I had to fuse with an animal or something?
My hands trembled, and I laced them together as if that would anchor me.
The black-clad enforcers turned to the side to let us pass single file into a tiny courtyard, mostly filled with a greenhouse. Condensationblurred the glass, foliage crowding close against it, green and breathing in defiance of the cold. Magic. A lot of magic.
“Do I go in there?” I asked.
“Yes. That’s the Chancellor’s garden,” Rowan answered.
I didn’t need to knock; one of the greenhouse doors was already open, so I just walked in. A warm, damp feeling settled into my chilled body, along with the scent of earth and growing things. It was honestly really nice.
“Welcome to the Western Defenses.” Chancellor Morgen appeared from behind a shrubbery. “I’m sure if the Architect has his way, you’ll be spending a lot of time here very soon.” She cackled.
I wrinkled my nose. “He’s been awake all day, and I’ve not seen or heard from him. Maybe he’s not as interested as you think.”
Chancellor Morgen laughed. “You’ll be popping out his spawn before the year’s out, whether you want to be or not.”
My heart raced. That’s not what I wanted… could he make me think it was?
Rowan leaned in, hand firm on my arm. “No. That’s not us. Whatever’s going on with fertility, you call the shots. Always.”
Chancellor Morgen’s pink hair shimmered as she leaned in, voice a blade wrapped in silk. “Do you want to know when the cradles emptied, girl? The moment women stopped choosing. The Families tethered them like livestock, and magic… well, magic keeps its own accounts. Children don’t grow well in chains.” Her gaze darkened as if filled with memory before she scowled. “Why did you want to see me, Quinn?”
I pressed my lips together. Cayden already knew I couldn’t use magic, but Rowan didn’t. He’d seen my emergency run from my physical placement, where I accidentally used magic, but beyond that,we trained in non-magical combat. He’d just admitted he liked me. What if knowing I couldn’t use magic made him change his mind?
I peeked at him out of the corner of my eye.
‘Don’t do that.’ My dad’s words echoed in my memory.
When I didn’t believe this world was real, I did what made me happy. I enjoyed being that person. I didn’t exist to inconvenience others as little as possible. I deserved better. If Rowan was going to judge me for what I couldn’t do, then it didn’t matter how handsome he was; he could shove it.
I drew my shoulders back and focused on the wrinkled pink chancellor. “How did you learn to do magic? What made you a monster?”
Chancellor Morgen raised an eyebrow. “Realizing some truths about yourself, are you?”
I took a sharp breath and rolled my shoulders back. This wasn’t going to be a fun conversation. “Can you just tell me?” I pleaded. “Wouldn’t me using magic help the family?” I patted my chest. “I can’t even light a cauldron. I owe people favors for doing basic things like laundry. You said I was safe here, that no man would hurt me.” I didn’t look at Cayden or Rowan as I pulled out my final trump card: my roommate Erick, whose huge ego I hoped meant he really was important. “Most of those favors I owe are to Adler Michelson. What do you think it looks like when he finally cashes them in?”
I couldn’t see Rowan and Cayden, but I could feel the tension radiating off them.
Chancellor Morgen’s pink hair glowed. I swear her body shrank as she grinned like the Cheshire Cat fromAlice in Wonderland. “Oh, my dear Quinn. I believe you’re learning how to play the game.” She glided forward. “I really thought you would be eaten up and spit out by now, but look at you.” Her pointer finger grew into its gnarledbrown companion, and she caressed my cheek with a cold claw. “And not even shaking this time.”
I gritted my teeth.
“I was sixteen when the tremors hit.” She turned her hand over, and bark cracked up her wrist, branches curling like fingers. A pink flower burst open between two knuckles, pulsing with life.
“I grew up in Dartmoor,” she continued. “Even before the tremors, the land was beautiful and wild. The wind raced across treeless expanses, carving rocks over millions of years until it hit steep valleys that tamed it, barely. On the sheltered side of those valleys grew the Trees of Dartmoor. Lone gnarled hawthorns contorted into shapes with their thick branches splayed out in all directions and crawling along the ground as if they could save themselves from the wind.”
