“I’m here to see Quinn,” I repeated. “She’s um.” I wasn’t her suitor; in fact, I didn’t have a title for whatever the three of us were. Our formal Intentions still sat in my pocket-void, but I needed to say something. “She’s important to me.”
Silas shook his head. “My sword’s important to me. It needs me. Its sheath is its collar, and without me, it can’t be drawn.” Two people came out of a side door. “Quinn isn’t a sword. Until you can give me a better answer, you’re not welcome here.”
Tension filled the air. I couldn’t see my lover, but I knew his eyes glowed. Silas’s shadow flickered. The man reached above his head and gripped the pommel of the claymore. Magic crackled.
Ezra and I could cut through him. We could cut through all of them. But that would be an act of war. Not only that, but it would be wrong.
I stepped back and held my hands out on either side of me. “You’re right. Quinn isn’t a sword. I chose my words poorly.”
Silas narrowed his eyes. I’d changed my tune too fast. He didn’t think I was genuine. My heart fell.
“You can take some time to think up some better ones.” Silas released his claymore. “I have two suitresses, and I fought and keep fighting to deserve them.” He flexed. “I don’t want your bullshit, Architect. I don’t want your magic.” He waved and turned his back. “Good luck next time.”
‘Are we just going to stand here?’Ezra growled in my mind.
‘No,’I said.‘We’re going to leave.’
Ezra grabbed my arm; his anger now leveled at me.
‘I’ll fix this,”I snarled.‘I just need more information. Quinn is safe.’
Ezra released his grip on my arm and turned. My heart pinched, but he’d understand. He just needed a minute to cool off. The double doors opened and shut, leaving the two of us standing outside. Movement caught the corner of my eye. Two desperate-looking men focused on the gold earrings in my left ear and the chain peeking out of the top of my tunic.
“We need to go,” I said.
Ezra grunted.
“Cayden got here first and clearly didn’t make it inside either,” I said as we mounted up. “I’ll figure out what Silas wants, and we’ll try again tomorrow.”
Ezra stayed silent, jaw tight, thoughts locked deep. Two men slid from the shadows, serrated blades eager for blood.
I’d have to prod my lover about it later. We kicked our horses into a ground-eating trot and headed toward the East toll.
Chapter 19
Quinn
Brit,Ravana,andIperched at the giant stone table in the Assembly Hall, a place that somehow managed to feel both enormous and cozy. Tents, little nylon domed ones from my time, and hulking structures of fur and wool, sprawled across cracked tile, creating a mini tent city. Rubble was politely pushed into corners while dust claimed everything magic didn’t bother with. A guitar hummed from somewhere far off, tossing straw-colored sparks into the air like it was trying to flirt with the ceiling. Someone sharpened their blade in time to its beat.
Warm air drifted up from the heat cone our table circled, but the cavernous room stayed sharp around the edges. Even withpeople working and music drifting, the Assembly Hall felt ready to devour anyone who forgot where they were. The Westwaters didn’t; they moved through the space in worn leather and quiet menace, like they were built for places that bite.
I reached into my pocket-void and pulled out the final stack of Intentions, nearly toppling the pile already in front of me as I set them on top. Instead of letting the duality of my new “home” weigh on me, I fixed my gaze on Ravana, who let out a low whistle.
“Impressive. Start answering them.” She flicked a pile, her finger going straight through it.
My head spun, but Brit swooped in like the competent adult I absolutely was not. We cleared a little space in front of me, and I yanked out my trusty pen and paper—no guys, no magic, just me raw-dogging reality. Honestly, I had not thought this whole running-away-with-Ravana plan through.
Channeling my inner Erick, which made my skin crawl, I started writing. Ten in, they already blurred together. I sighed. “Do I really need to answer all of these? I’m going to run out of paper… it can’t wait until I can make a scrawl?”
“It can’t,” Brit pressed her hand into her stomach. “You’re important. So important. This isn’t a game anymore.”
I scowled at my friend. “Brit, we don’t even know if I’m the reason you're cycling.”
Brit pursed her lips.
“But even if I am,” I cut her off. “We need to talk about how grumpy your hormones are making you.”
Ravana chuckled before rapping her knuckles against the table.
