Blinking away the vivid memories, I looked down at my scrawl.
If that were true, why did writing this report feel like a betrayal?
A piece of Quinn’s life sat on this paper. My assessment of her physical capabilities, our trip to The Green, and the hidden wealth possibly contained in her pocket-void. I even had notes from our breakfast here, hinting at how poorly she understood the families and basic magical concepts.
The Architect needed this information… but he didn’t need to know I’d brought her to climax on the back of my horse. Or that the woman filled my dreams with a glimpse of something deeper.
If he saw her as a liability, nothing would save her. Not even me.
Chapter 3
Quinn
Exhaustedandblurry-eyed,Istumbled down the steep steps to the train the following morning. Adam gave me his usual big, friendly wave and fussed over my absence yesterday before putting me to work.
The remains of Ezra’s protein bar still coated my mouth, and I found myself lifting crates with more exuberance than I could usually muster at five a.m.
“I see someone else is excited the Architect woke,” Adam said.
My motions slowed, and my heart raced. I’d been literally existing for this moment, whether I wanted to or not… and the only reason I knew it happened was a side comment from Adam. What did that mean?
Did I miss a proclamation? Had I already screwed up somehow? Would he summon me now? Did I go to him? What if Chancellor Morgen was correct, and he wanted more from me than I was willing to give?
“Quinn, snap out of it.”
Adam’s voice made me realize I’d frozen in place while my thoughts spiraled.
“This isn’t a surprise, right?” he continued. “Your TB was glowing with his magic this morning, too?” Adam’s organization didn’t slow; the man was a machine. “I know you’re not a morning person, but you need to focus. The train needs all your attention.”
I finished lifting my pile of books and forced myself to take a breath. I was still here. Just a normal morning… What if there was a summons on my TB?
“Look, Quinn, I know mentalists are terrifying to some people.” Adam took my stack from me and pointed at a smaller one. Like a robot, I went to it and matched up the scrawl with the correct books. “Our TBs are a part of the Architect. Everything on every TB goes directly into his mind. They glow because he’s tinkering and learning everything he missed.”
I swallowed, suddenly grateful I couldn’t use my TB. “Isn’t that an invasion of privacy?”
“Now, don’t be like that.” Adam stopped working. “That’s a lot of information for one man to take in. I don’t exactly understand how his mind works, but I doubt he’ll even register whatever messages you don’t want him to see.” Adam frowned at me. “You got a problem with mentalists, Quinn?”
I shook my head. “No. I’ve never met one before. I guess I was thinking of my phone.”
“Your what?” Adam asked.
I took another deep breath and pulled myself together. If there were a message on my TB, I wouldn’t see it until the end of my shift. I just needed to put my head down and work.
“Never mind.” I waved at Adam and dug into my pile. After moving a few books, my curiosity got the better of me. “Actually. Could you tell me more about mentalists and the Architect?”
Adam grinned. “I’m not an expert, but I’ll tell you what I know.”
By the end of my shift, my mind was spinning, and my nerves wouldn’t settle. Adam made mentalists sound like gods. They could read minds, manipulate memories, and alter people’s perceptions with just a thought. They could scramble a person’s brain or make them forget how to breathe, leaving them to suffocate, and they didn’t need to be close to do any of that.
“But mentalists, especially our Architect, don’t do that.” Adam put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “He uses his powers for good. I’m old and worthless. The Westwaters cut me loose, but he picked me up and placed me here. I owe him my life. Just like he did for you.”
A shiver ran down my back, but I couldn’t say anything. It was clear Adam virtually worshiped the Architect. Maybe because the Architect infiltrated his mind?
“Don’t even think it!” Adam barked. “I see those gears turning. I’ve seen that look too many times. Our Architect has morals. He lives by a strict code. My thoughts are my own, and my loyalty is my choice.”
“How would you know?” I whispered, regretting the four words immediately.
“Bah.” Adam released my shoulder with more force than necessary and clenched his fists. His lips flattened into a line. “I would know. I just would. Get out of here and think before you judge.”
