“Pigs.” I rolled my wrist. “I think one of us can take that more personally than the other.”
Brody’s face fell. “I was surprised. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t know what it’s like up north, but down here in Edinburgh, women are priceless. You’re the only thing keeping the human race alive. And there are so few of you, assuming you can have kids.”
I widened my eyes and jerked my head forward. “Really, that woman threatened to beat you up for giving me value based on my gender, and your response is to ask if I’m ovulating?”
Brody gave the barest of nods and plowed forward. “How about we continue the tour?” He held out his hand. “I want to show you around.”
“I thought I messed up your day?” I said, ignoring his hand.
He smiled. “It’s a different situation now.”
“Great.” I gestured for him to walk ahead of me. “Lead on.”
I found myself seated at a table in the Happy Rooster, the massive pub in the T-shaped building I’d passed before meeting Rowan. It was about a third full, and we’d snagged a tall table near the door. The logo of a rooster, dancing with one leg up and the other down, looked rather phallic, hanging above a massive hearth. I stuffed my fingers over my mouth before I could laugh.
“Ohh, this is cool, you’ll like this.” Brody’s new knowledge of my gender had turned him from a surly teen to an overly excitable one.He pointed at a wall decorated with a lacrosse stick, making anXwith a broadsword. “Look at the wall. This side here, with the rivets, is machined from BT.”
His mention of AT and BT had come up multiple times now. I didn’t know what either acronym meant.
“Then the one on that side, see all the little dents?” He pointed to an uneven surface. “It’s hand-pounded by smiths.” I nodded, growing more curious despite myself. “And this third one, that’s too smooth to be natural, is magic-made. That’s what I want to do. Manipulate metal with power.”
“Cool.” I couldn't believe all of this came from my subconscious. The mix of a medieval pub, magic, and a sports bar was spot on. I focused on Brody’s explanation. “Is manipulating metals hard to learn?”
“I’m not a natural,” Brody admitted. “My Majekah isn’t very practical long term.”
“Ma-je-kah?” I asked, separating the syllables, so I got it right.
Brody made a face. “Yeah. Unique magic. Maybe you call it something else.”
I batted my eyes. “Oh, right. Totally. So, what, um, is your Majekah?” I asked, keeping him talking about himself so I wouldn’t have to admit I had no clue what was going on.
Brody’s entire face lit up at my interest. He proceeded to make a glob of sticky olive-green goop on his palm that matched his hair and eyes. “This holds a command. It will manipulate an object to a point.”
He grabbed a metal fork and covered it in his goop. The fork twisted like a corkscrew.
I grinned. Real or not, magic was awesome. “Cool.”
Brody’s smile got wider. He leaned forward. “The command works on a person, too. It doesn’t last long. I’m not a mentalist. I can’t read minds or take over people’s thoughts or force them to do my bidding.”
I blinked rapidly, trying not to lose my friendly smile. That was a thing? People could do that?
“But I can suggest emotions,” Brody continued, not noticing my reaction. “Like make someone itchy or make them want to give me all their money.”
My attempt to keep my face passive utterly failed. I hated it. Big or small, messing with free will was very, very wrong. I backed away from his hands.
He dropped the twisted fork and hunched his shoulders. “Not that I would ever do that. I mean, once my magic wears off and they realize it was me, er, it would be a disaster.”
He’d done exactly that. I’d bet what little I had on it, and I had a feeling he’d do it again if he thought he could get away with it. We studied each other.
“You have amazing eyes,” Brody suddenly said.
I pulled back uncomfortably, my thoughts going the opposite direction while Brody grinned as if his compliment had fixed everything.
“I wouldn’t do that to you. I promise.” He gestured around, changing the topic. “A lot of social life happens at The Rooster. Not just for trainees, but for officers and laborers, too. Even the Architect has breakfast here sometimes.”
Brody’s explanations continued, but my mind still dwelled on Majekah and the growing list of ways men had made me uncomfortable in my delusions.
Scenarios two and three started with me roaming the countryside. Although my waking dreams were unique, by the end, they played out the same. Each time, a man tried to stick something in me: a knife,magic, or their dick. I’d black out and wake up somewhere new. It was disconcerting but also made logical sense if viewed as a series of bad dreams. My surgeon was sticking sharp objects in my brain right now, and Miss Q would echo it.
