Matt cocked his head to the side and scanned me up and down. “You, really?”
I blinked rapidly.
“Ah, sorry. I mean, yes. Moose.” He raised an eyebrow, and a scrawl wrote itself in his burnt caramel. “It’s only six. If your work-study starts at the same time as yesterday, you’ll find him, no problem. He’susually in his spot next to the portcullis. You’re looking for crocodile hair.”
I swiped the note, surprised this Moose person was already up, and trotted off.
The portcullis was around the corner from the Happy Rooster. Fifteen feet across at most, a tall arched entry filled the center. Large iron gates kept anyone who wanted in, out, and anyone already in, in. Two enforcers, dressed in blacks, sat on either side, with another standing at the top, looking out.
None of them had green hair of any shade.
Matt had said ‘in his spot’, which made it sound easy to find. To the right, a walkway slowly narrowed until it reached the buildings on the back side of the coliseum. And to the left, a tall wall followed the cliffside. I put my fingers against the ancient masonry and walked. A break in the stone, hidden by its odd angle, had a barred gate. Weeds growing from the cliffside came up almost to my waist, and the remains of what could have been a guardhouse peeked at me.
I touched a rusty padlock, keeping it shut. Interesting, but definitely not Moose.
As I rounded the bend, the cannons came into view. An enforcer gave me a nod, and I nodded back. If Moose was at the cannons, Matt would have said cannons. I wrinkled my nose and turned around.
Before I made it back to the portcullis, Ezra slid into my path.
Not Ezra, Commander Ezra. The second-in-command of this entire place, according to Brit. Despite his black leather uniform, my gaze still slipped down to where I knew the most drool-worthy set of abs I’d ever seen lived.
With a shake of my head, I looked at his face again, and he smirked.
“Are you looking for something?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I pursed my lips. I’d technically stolen from the Happy Rooster. Ezra was an enforcer. What if Horax was doing me a favor by not involving the authorities? “I couldn’t sleep, and I was thinking of going into town.”
Ezra’s smirk fell off his face. “No.”
I bit my lips together. “No?”
Ezra nodded and jerked his head, getting us walking. The cannons sparkled with dew in the morning light as we walked toward them.
The Architect has big plans for you.Chancellor Morgen’s words filled my mind.
Unable to shake them, I gave Ezra a skeptical look. “Why can’t I go into town?”
Ezra motioned for me to walk at his side, and I did. “Edinburgh doesn’t belong to us. Neutral territory, it’s still too dangerous. You are safe in our walls.”
I opened and closed my mouth. “Am I trapped here?”
Ezra shook his head. “No. But for now, yes.”
I stopped walking and grabbed his arm. “Why? Explain it to me.”
To my surprise, Ezra took my hand and pulled me forward. The shadows from the cannon shifted unnaturally, making a blanket on the ground. We sat, our knees brushing. The touch was simple, yet somehow more intimate than it had any right to be.
He brushed a stray hair away from my face. “The Architect healed you. He risked his own life to save yours. I want you to be safe, and here when he wakes.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Quinn, what happened to you on your journey here?” Ezra asked softly.
My stomach twisted. I hadn’t traveled here; I just appeared. If this were all a delusion, then the trauma was imagined, too. The three spotson my lower back ached in protest. If every scenario were connected, this entire world would be nothing more than an anesthesia dream I’d eventually wake from. No reason to relive things that never really happened.
I took a frustrated breath and condensed all of that into two words. “Nothing good.”
He waited.
