A pang of regret shot through me, not for Matt. I was done being walked on, but because I’d stolen someone else’s drink.
Before I could overthink it, I slid past him and went to the back, racks upon racks of glassware from the party needed to be polished. Although I wanted to savor my stolen drink, maybe enjoy it with breakfast, I wasn’t going to get either option, so I downed the coffee and waited for my caffeine kick to lift my arms again.
After polishing a few glasses, I found a rhythm and let my mind wander.
I hadn’t outright told Cayden I couldn’t use magic. I did show him my Majekah, or at least I’d destroyed a weird dusty sculpture I’d found in what was becoming our favorite spot in the library.
“I’ve never seen Majekah like it,” Cayden said. “But I’ve not seen most people’s Majekah. The Prophet only shines his light on those who follow in his footsteps. My family Majekah is runes. All of us.”
Cayden clenched his fists and wrinkled his nose the way he did every time ‘the Prophet’ slipped out of his mouth. Before I could ask, he pressed on.
“Anyone can push magic into objects and themselves. It is raw energy. Majekah, however, is shaped by the user. You. It’s your experiences.”
“So Majekah, is magic going through a person filter?”
Cayden raised an eyebrow and nodded.
“What if I don’t have a filter? Like, I was born before the filters became a thing?”
Cayden peered at me. “Then you would be a monster. During the tremors, people either died, evolved, or their bodies rejected the magic, and they turned into something else.”
“Like Chancellor Morgen?” I asked.
Cayden nodded. “And Professor Holiday and Winston.”
“But they can all do magic, too.”
Cayden shrugged. “They’re also over a hundred years old. There are not many monsters left. The fact the Architect brought three together in one place is probably the only reason he still has this castle at all.”
“Quinn,” Matt said.
I yelped and dropped my glass, which promptly shattered on the floor.
“Excited to run up your tab?” Matt asked.
I glared at him, and he held out his hands peacefully. “I don’t make the rules.”
“But you enjoy enforcing them,” I grumbled.
The bartender gave me an unfriendly grin but passed me my TB.
A new schedule looked me in the face. I pulled the glowing words closer and farther, then shook my TB. It stayed the same.
Usually, after placement tests were over, the Architect had a meeting with each person and got them set up in their new role in the family. However, with the Architect still asleep, no one really knew what to do. A few individuals who had a clear idea of what they wanted and made connections moved into jobs.
But the bulk of us were continuing our work-studies and waiting, but not me, apparently. Every minute of my day, from my five a.m. work-study until seven at night, was scheduled.
Introductory sessions to jobs I didn’t know existed filled my days. They were labeled as ‘tag-alongs’ in my TB. Hope and Chancellor Morgen alternated generic tutoring. And I now had daily one-on-one combat sessions with Rowan, which started in ten minutes.
My stomach flopped reading that. I still had a thing for my Witcher look-alike. Yeah, his suitress had started some rumors, but he hadn’t. He’d tried really hard after the physical to help me, and then pissed off when I told him to. I appreciated the respect.
But he was on Ezra’s approved list.
What did that even mean?
“We’re still slammed.” Matt scowled at me. “How long does it take to read a TB?”
I pulled a pad of paper out of my pocket-void and jotted down my new schedule. My thoughts drifted to Erick’s point. I didn’t actually know how other families would treat me. After three bad experiences, I’d found myself here, not being pressured to do anything with my biology. As much as I felt trapped by Ezra, I also didn’t envy Everly.
