My magic screamed at me while the elements around my body swirled and rippled. Small tremors shook the ground under me. A student, who was too close, wobbled and fell.
“Rowan, what is wrong?” Ezra demanded.
I dug my fingers into my thigh and closed my eyes. With a start, I realized my magic no longer pulled in a vague direction anymore, but to a pinpoint location on the east side of The Green.
Quinn was there outside our walls and hurt.
I took a deep breath.
I was a good soldier. I did what I was told and didn’t question orders. Most importantly, I communicated with the chain of command. Ezra valued these traits and promoted me to one of his generals.
Telling my commanding officer was the right thing to do, but would result in delays and explanations. I didn’t understand what was going on inside me.
“It’s my magic.” The half-truth fell out of my mouth. “It’s agitated. I need a moment, possibly to dump power.”
Ezra nodded. “Do what you need to.”
I bolted toward the stables, my magic driving me forward. Not bothering with my own horse, I took the first one saddled. The beast’s hooves rang out on the ancient cobbled streets, matching my racing pulse.
My magic guided me to a large tent in the massive market sprawling along The Green. Leaving the sweating horse at the back, I walked between off-white sheets until I found the entrance. ‘Willow’s Weaving and More’ glowed in eggplant purple. Two burly-looking fighters dressed in the cream and brown leathers of the McDonalds stood on either side of the door. Voices came from inside, and I hesitated.
“The Architect’s Annual Mixer is only ten weeks away. It’s never too early to think about fashion,” a woman’s voice said.
“Oh, yes, of course,” another responded. “Did you hear about the dragon?”
“Who hasn’t heard about the dragon?” the first said. “I hear he crawled out of the tunnels. Like the Architect.”
“No.” The second voice sounded scandalized. “One of my sons swears one of our guards saw him enter the city from the North in nothing but rags.”
“What a backward part of the world the North is. Maybe rags are in?” The first voice giggled.
I put my hand on the cloth tent flap.
“Either way, my family wants him,” the second voice said, pausing my entry. “He’ll either come to our side, or we’ll take him off the playing field. I will not stand for the mentalist gaining more power. His kind are abominations who shouldn’t walk this planet.”
My desire to rush in and destroy this woman and her opinions made me see red. I forced myself to calm. After a single deep breath, I stepped into the tent.
A thin, short woman turned and smiled at me while Freya McDonald scowled. The leader of the McDonald clan’s mud-brown hair was up in a series of braids, pinching her already tight face. Her bone-thin hands stuck out of a fur coat, and the black slip of a silk dress peeked out from under it.
“Oh, a Tate,” Freya McDonald drawled. “Willow, sweety, pay him no mind. He couldn’t afford a scarf in your shop.”
I looked past the two women to a table at the back. A lump my magic recognized lay under it, completely still. I couldn’t wait for these two to finish, but I had no way to get them to leave the tent.
“McDonald.” I inclined my head. “It’s a pleasure.”
Freya let out a disappointed sigh. “An honor more like, though I suppose you’re in contract with a Moore.” Her smile turned wicked. “Though your child will be a Moore, isn’t that correct?” She rubbed her hands together. “How much do the stud services of a Tate cost these days?”
Anger and shame burned in my gut. Freya wasn’t wrong. Angela’s family would keep our child, but only for a steep price. It was money we desperately needed, and a blood connection to one of the most powerful families in London. It was the ultimate tie. My dignity meant nothing if it could help my family rise to power again.
I purposefully walked toward Quinn, ignoring Freya and her too-accurate taunts.
The old woman cackled and clapped.
I reached the table and bent down. Quinn lay in a ball. His chest rose and fell. I put two fingers on his throat. As our skin touched, a maelstrom of trapped magic crawled up my arm and tried to mix with my own. Unexpected awareness of the broken body under my fingers flooded my senses. The world went silent.
Her.
Quinn was a her.
