“Quinn, this is a bad idea,” Xan whispered, his breath warm on my ear as his hips brushed my back, but he didn’t move.
I smiled. As a paper pusher for the Architect, he probably followed every rule; this had to be way outside his comfort zone. His body heat kissed my back as he stood close, watching. The giddy thrill of it made me press my hands into our solid hiding place to keep from clapping.
Professor Holiday’s lopsided gait came to a stop a few feet from his door. “My door!” he screeched. “Scrappers! Ungrateful trainees, the lot of them!” A string of words in a language I didn’t know came out of his mouth.
Xan laughed.
Professor Holiday spun around and looked right at us, though there was no way he could make us out in the dark.
I let out a little whoop, grabbed Xan’s hand, and booked it around the far side of the coliseum. A familiar pull slowly beckoned me before a boom sounded behind us.
My need to turn vanished. Debris rained down on our backs, and we ran faster.
“Did he just throw magic at us?” I asked, still running.
Something bumped the back of my leg, and I stumbled. Instead of crashing to the ground, I found myself in a bridal carry in Xan’s arms.
His gaze flashed with childish joy. “He did. I forgot how exhilarating it is to break the rules.”
I laughed because Xan’s joy was infectious, and because I now knew for sure that something about Professor Holiday’s magic drew me to him. Not the monster on his table. Not his collection of junk, but his magic.
I hooked my arms around Xan’s neck to take some of my weight off his arms. We didn’t run for long; the castle wasn’t that big, and once we rounded the coliseum, guards and passing students gave us curious looks.
Xan put me down and guided us back to the library. I found myself sitting across from him in the romance section, exactly where our little adventure began.
He opened up his pocket-void and pulled out two sandwiches and two little cakes I’d never seen before. My stomach growled, and he grinned as if the sound was a victory.
“We can argue, but I’ll win.” His grin ate his face. “I need to celebrate. I’ve never done anything like that, and I’m buzzing. Oh.” He reached in again and pulled out a clay mug. He popped it open, and something fizzed.
I held up my hand. “I can’t. I have nothing to celebrate.”
Xan shook his head. “I disagree. We learned that whatever drew you to The Old Fortress wasn’t anything in it. It’s not what you wanted to learn, but information is power. It’s important.”
“It’s Professor Holiday’s magic, not even the man,” I blurted. “I felt the pull when he blasted us… if that’s what he did.”
“Blasted is an acceptable adjective, and that’s very puzzling. He ‘blasted us’ with raw power. A raw power tainted with his stain, but still pure energy.” Two glasses came out of his pocket-void.
I frowned at them. “I still can’t use my magic. This information didn’t help me.”
Xan poured the bubbly. “What exactly did Morgen tell you?”
He didn’t touch his cup or hand me one. He just waited. I had her story memorized at this point, and I recited it like a pro.
Xan gave me a little golf clap, which elicited a ‘shush’ from someone in the room across from ours.
“So, the trees saved her because they loved her, and she loved them,” Xan summarized. “The trees were there long before the tremors and changed as magic evolved. Do you have anything like that?”
I sighed. “No.”
Xan raised an eyebrow. “Where did you get what you’re wearing?”
I picked at my layers of black. “Out of my pocket-void.”
Xan’s eyes twinkled.
“I understand what you’re implying, but I’ve already thought of that. Everything in my pocket-void was in there before the tremors and existed for as long as I have in this time. Which is unknown.” I jerked, realized what I’d just said out loud, and rushed on as if what I’d just said was normal and not a life-altering admission. “But I don’t think my pocket-void counted as existing in the world like the trees did. The void is its own space, unaffected by time. If it weren’t, wearing my undies should be enough.”
Xan reached forward, cupped my cheek, and locked his gaze with mine. “But do you and your undies share a deep, emotional bond, Quinn?”
