My stomach twisted. “Right. I’m the one making this difficult. I’m a person, Ezra. Not an object you can put on a shelf until someone else wants to play with me.”
“You’re still learning.” Ezra leaned toward me. “I’m not putting you on a shelf.”
“Implying I’m still an object,” I snapped.
Ezra paled. “No.”
“And this object”—I gestured to myself—“won’t be learning alongside my peers, but only from the people you deem acceptable.”
Ezra clenched a fist. “Yes. For now.”
Anger made me tremble. How badly did I want to stay here? Erick said I had other options, but he also said my place was popping outbabies. Would I rather be trapped, waiting for someone else to determine my future, or walk toward a fate I didn’t want?
The three delusions I had before getting here hit me hard. My lower back ached. Despite everything, this was still so much better than all of those combined.
Why hadn’t I woken up yet? Or blacked out? The stray thought caught me off guard, and I jerked back. My emotions popped like a bubble, leaving me exhausted.
I locked my hands together in front of me and bit the inside of my cheek, as if pain would answer my question. It didn’t. My plan to exist until I woke up or blacked out started to feel poorly conceived.
“A week, that’s all, right?” I said, still annoyed, but no longer fuming.
Ezra inclined his head.
I pivoted so fast I almost lost my balance, and stormed out the doors with Cayden on my heels. Rain was coming down in sheets now. Cayden cut off my furious stomping and cupped my cheek. “We can leave right now.”
I was angry. It wasn’t fair, but no one was sticking shit in me here. If I left, I left Brit and Everly. My attempt to go to The Green burned into my memory. I might do better with Cayden at my side, but we’d still be on the run from someone who could apparently read minds and control thoughts. The rain turned into ice, pelting my skin.
“A week, right?” I repeated, trying to ease my frustration. “I’ll learn what I can. It’s not like Ezra’s minions can brainwash me in a week, right?”
Cayden sucked in an uncomfortable breath and trained his eyes on the ground. Little rivers ran between the stonework and crashed into his boots.
I pursed my lips, wishing I understood his response, but I’d already pushed him today. I needed to lay off. I swallowed my unease and accepted my new temporary fate.
My entire existence here depended on how a man felt when he woke up. I couldn’t fucking believe it. If I weren’t so busy, I’d be angry.
My second work-study kicked in, taking away what little time I had with Cayden in the evenings. Instead of messing with my magic, I oiled leather saddles and other bits of horse tack until ten at night. Only to sleep for a few hours and go back to the train at five. Ezra’s version of ‘experiencing everything’ was more tag-alongs. In his defense, observing other people working did help me understand some basics. But watching three dudes use a combination of magic and good old-fashioned sewing to make enforcer uniforms taught me nothing. After each ‘tag-along,’ one of Ezra’s five questioned me on what I saw, as if the task of observation was beyond me.
It was maddening.
My only two breaks were breakfast and dinner. I spent breakfast washing dishes to peek at my TB. Fortunately, nothing impeded dinner. I hated how much I relied on my friend's charity, but Everly always had a second portion of whatever she ordered waiting. I existed for that single hour.
Three days ticked by with four to go. I ached, body and soul. This wasn’t sustainable.
On the fourth morning, I dragged myself into my train work-study ten minutes late, too tired to care. Rowan was waiting at the bottomof the stairs, dressed in simple brown trousers and a gray hoodie, his presence cutting through my exhaustion like a jolt of cold air.
He held up a massive breakfast sandwich for us to split. “Andy’s covering for you. Do you have a minute?”
I almost cried with relief. Rowan guided me toward a little picnic he’d set up, complete with a little sculpture, glowing with his white magic, on a thick gray blanket to give us more light. He helped me sit and shoved the massive breakfast sandwich into my hands. The aroma of coffee cut through the harsh smell of oil and train permeating the tunnel. He poured two cups out of a large mug, and homesickness hit me hard.
Until this new schedule, I’d honestly been so excited about magic that it outweighed everything. But lack of sleep and grueling work took all the magic out of existence, literally. Horses were dirty, and leather tack was way more fun to watch gleaming in movies than oil myself.
I missed my local coffee shop and my dad’s French press. I missed movie night and mindless social media scrolling. Most of all, I missed my dad, who always had a minute to talk to me. No matter how stupid the question or how long-winded my story.
“It’s on Angela,” Rowan said while I held my coffee and desperately tried to pull myself together. “Speaking of.” He took a bite of his half. “I need to vent.”
I finally took a sip. It was basic, but still coffee, and I loved it. “You and me both.”
Rowan’s gaze lit up. “You go first.”
