Ravana turned and pointed at me. “You. Silas trusts you.”
I inclined my head.
“Quinn’s going to a baking class.” Ravana grinned. “Do not leave her side and make sure she tries her creations, even if you have to feed them to her.”
First, my lover demanded I kiss Quinn for him; now, I was ordered to feed her. Maybe I needed to take orders more often.
Quinn’s cheeks burned. I loved every second of it.
Chapter 25
Cayden
Ilayonmymakeshift bed in the dim light of sunrise, tracing the ghost of runes where ink used to be—white lines, gone, like the uncle who’d given them to me. I’d spent months under his steady hands, and when he stood beside my Prophet, pouring magic into the fraud, I killed him without a thought.
I didn’t regret the man. His skill, the art he left on my skin, that I mourned.
Could you separate the two, mourn the artist, not the bastard, or did choices rot everything they touched? What did that say about me?
Rage so hot and painful that it obliterated everything crashed through me. I launched my fist into the nearest wall. The metal dented, knuckles split, and the sting dragged me back to reality.
I couldn’t drown in thought. Not today. Not with Quinn’s first “free will” trial coming. A joke, all of it. Free will couldn’t be proven. I thought I had it once, until I learned my life was a puppet show.
My stomach growled.
I could go back to my family, but I’d drown in everything I never wanted to be. I couldn’t look at the two boys I knew were mine without the shame choking me. Better to keep my distance, to spare their innocence.
Everly went every day. She was a good friend I didn’t deserve.
‘Xan and I leave for The Pit this afternoon. Q-tip’s first trial is with the Abernathys. Shouldn’t be trouble; they’re allies, even if shaky. I’ll grab a table at The Rooster. Meet me for breakfast if you want.’
‘Allies, my ass. They’re still testing her,’I shot back.
‘I said, shaky,’Rowan repeated.
But he wasn’t wrong. The Abernathys bent over backward to show loyalty, so long as they got their chance to test Quinn. And Xan let them.
I slammed my fist into the wall, this time directly through the crack I’d left days ago. This time I wished it were the Architect’s face.
‘I still have a TB,’I snarled into our connection.‘All of that could have been a message.’
‘Where’s the fun in that?’
I sighed, but a smile still tugged at my black mood.
The half-mile walk to the castle eased my anger. Bustling businesses opened and construction resumed, filling the world with life. Since Xan kicked me out, some demons eased. The empty room forced space between me and my bullshit.Penniless, locked out of Westwater walls, I got a clear shot of reality: my cult had sucked, but at least it had given me belonging.
By the time I crossed into the Architect’s walls, the enforcers barely glanced at me, yet my skin still prickled. Every step screamed what I already knew: I didn’t belong anywhere.
Chancellor Morgen stepped from the shadow of the portcullis, clearly waiting. “Master Cayden. A word.”
Master. She wanted something.
I inclined my head, and we fell into step.
“Have your attempts to see Quinn worked?” she asked.
“They have not.” My lips stayed flat. Did she already know and test me, or was she fishing?
