My hands shook, and I quickly clasped them together. Logical. Series of bad dreams. None of it had happened. My fear eased with repetition.
A bead of sweat formed under my sweater from the warm room. It smelled like comfort food and spice. Light instrumental music, which I couldn’t identify, played in the background.
Where was Miss Q getting these details from?
This was scenario four now. A nightmare about job training, maybe. I still couldn’t tell. Brody hadn’t actually said what a ‘placement’ was yet. Given, I didn’t have many good experiences with jobs, but they were slightly better than my school days. If Miss Q was trying to stress me out, I’d be back in high school, right?
“You’re not listening to me!” Brody said, thumping a wooden mug onto the table. “Do you want to be here?”
I winced and ducked my head. I hadn’t been listening to him. A mug of something smelling of pears and vanilla sat in front of me, and I took a sip, needing an excuse to think before I answered. A rich pear cider danced on my taste buds. I let out a contented sigh.
For months, I’d been alone, living on others’ scraps. My few interactions with people did more to destroy my faith in humanity than gave me a genuine connection.
Maybe Miss Q was trying to brainwash me. Ha. My own brain, brainwashing me. But if that was her goal, why was this time different?
In this scenario, nothing terrible had happened yet. Women seemed to be in charge of this ‘family.’ Since that pit fighter scared the pee out of him, Brody had been polite enough. Another blue square with asleeping cat on it caught my attention. I’d decided it was the family crest. A sleeping cat. How bad could that be?
Maybe Miss Q was tired of fighting. What if this was her peace offering? A pear cider and a fantasy pub so warm my cheeks were rosy. I loved that idea. This didn’t have to be a battle, right? Maybe I needed to be honest with this kid. Perhaps Miss Q was allowing me an opportunity to heal.
Brody still sat waiting for my answer, and I met his angry gaze. “I don’t want to be alone, but I don’t know if I want to be here.” I squeezed my cider. The rough wood mug dug into the pads of my fingers. “I’m waiting for this world to turn on me, like the dragon.”
“That creature was your own magic.” Brody shook his head. “It didn’t turn on you. It wasn’t real. It was a manifestation of your magic, andyouneeded to accept it.”
I raised an eyebrow, and there it was. Miss Q; fighting for her life. My magic. The lies my broken brain told me that couldn’t possibly exist. This wasn’t an opportunity to heal. It was Miss Q’s newest strategy. Maybe if she were extra nice, I’d accept her lies this time. I swallowed bitterly. I shouldn’t have reached out.
“You’ve no understanding of how lucky you are to be powerful!” Brody said loud enough to draw the attention of a long table in the center filled with men.
Reaching out a hand, I squeezed one of Brody’s tense wrists to quiet him down. “I’m overwhelmed.” I lowered my voice. “I’m sorry I said those things.”
An image of the pit fighter beating me to a pulp for apologizing to a man to soothe his ego flitted into my brain. I bit back a smile.
Brody’s eyes widened in surprise, and he flipped his hand up to rub my skin with his thumb.
I pulled out of his grip, not only worried about his Majekah, but also giving him the wrong impression.
“Look, sorry, I’m not adjusting well.” I leaned back and repeated some of the tour to show I’d been paying attention. “This is the Architect’s Castle…although it’s more akin to a little city. There’s no, like, one castle. Just a collection of buildings surrounded by steep cliffs on every side except the entrance I came in. It had the portcullis and three different archways and thick walls and stuff.”
Brody nodded once.
“My placements will be in the buildings surrounding the Crown Square, the pretty area I didn’t see because the fog is too thick. To the west are the dorms, which you haven’t shown me yet. We get our water from a well somewhere near-ish to here. And there are more buildings I’ve probably mixed up.” I pursed my lips. “But that’s me, not you.” He grinned, and I pressed on. “The library’s laid out in a series of tunnels and is entered through the original prison from BT.” I hesitated. “I don’t know what BT means.”
Brody’s jaw dropped.
“It means Before Tremors,” a rich male voice said from my left. “How dense are you?”
The stranger’s explanation told me nothing. I rolled my eyes and turned to tell him exactly that, and words caught in my throat. An underwear model stood at my side; his hair, in my favorite shade of forest green, was neatly combed back. Dark features perfectly balanced his lean face and fit silhouette. Unabashed, I let my gaze slide down.
Instead of a uniform, he dressed in crisp slacks and a white button-down. A colorful purple vest with golden suns embroidered on it set off his eyes. He shifted his stance, and diamonds sparkled in the center of each blazing sphere. He lifted a glass of slightly glowing liquid, gently clasped in his well-manicured fingers. More rings andbracelets sparkled as he took a small sip. The liquid slid down his throat, making his Adam's apple bob.
I swear my clit bobbed with it, and I gripped the table. My rugged, uneven nails stared me in the face. I curled them under, using my discomfort to pull me away from my hormonal rush. My subconscious created this picture of hotness. Fuck, I had a good imagination. Doctor Oz must have hit my hypothalamus.
Brody’s face drained of color, and he leaned away from the new arrival.
“Did you hear me?” the man demanded.
“Uh, in theory.” I mentally facepalmed at my stutter. “What were we talking about?”
A few people around me gasped. A group of men gave me a dark look, their gazes flicking toward the underwear model in front of me with both fear and curiosity. I struggled to gather my scattered brain.
