“That won’t be necessary, Brendan,” Logan announced. “Brianna’s work at the archives is complete.”
Brendan’s jaw flexed, but his eyes stayed on mine. “Please, let me know if there is any way I can assist in your efforts.”
Emily rolled her eyes. “Actually, Brianna has an engagement with me this evening, so if you boys could just …” She made a shooing gesture with her hands. When the men were gone, the door closed behind them, Emily said, “What’s it like being a celebrity?”
I flopped down onto the couch. “Exhausting.” I turned back to her. “Is it not like that for you at Council?”
Emily shrugged. “I can’t exactly do anything exciting.” She winced at the implication and tried to cover it. “Like predicting the future, I mean.”
“Yeah, well it only helps if I can figure out what to do with it.”
I thought of the prophecies again, how they had shifted when Emily was bound to Aern, how they were changing even now, the future in a horrible flux where every outcome was worse than the next.
“Maybe you’re trying too hard,” Emily said. “You’re strung tighter than a bobcat on a bowstring.”
I shot her a sidelong glance at the use of one of our more amusing foster family’s sayings, but the seriousness in her expression dragged a chuckle out of me. I threw a couch pillow at her. “Sit down. We have work to do.”
She complied, but eventually the exhaustion and constant worry caught up with me, making even my mental efforts useless. When it was clear I’d made absolutely no progress, we relaxed, sinking back into the couch. Emily was explaining that she had business with Aern and probably wouldn’t make it the next day, and I nodded my understanding as I closed my eyes against the letters and fibers and connections I’d been seeing all day. I wondered if they would be burned there, a constant swirl and glow that hazed over everything I would ever see again.
I dropped my head back and kicked off my boots. In my fatigue, I was no longer concerned about being carted barefoot out a window.
I must have dozed off, but when the scent of warm food hit my senses, I was jerked awake. I stretched, surveying the room to find two plates of chicken and rice with steamed vegetables on the table. Thinking it was odd that they’d left me alone, I crept silently toward it, realizing I probably resembled prey sniffing bait and not actually caring. And then I noticed my bedroom door had been shifted partially closed.
My bare feet were noiseless on the plush carpet, but Logan wasn’t surprised to find me peeking through the open door. His jaw was tight as he disassembled a small black box near my bureau. He didn’t explain what he was doing, but I could see by the collection of plastic fragments scattered over the cabinet’s top that he’d been breaking apart several electronic security devices while I slept. It didn’t take a genius to figure out they were Brendan’s.
When he dropped the last piece onto the dresser, he looked up at me with what appeared to be conflict in his eyes. Two heartbeats later, it changed to determination. He reached down to pick up a bag that lay at his feet and pulled out a few wires and tools before handing it to me. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. His expression left no doubt now. We were leaving.
I threw a pair of jeans, two sweatshirts, and a toothbrush into the bag while Logan stepped into the hall with his men. He didn’t speak as he led me to the car, and was still silent the first twenty miles of road. But when the traffic thinned and the Division house became more distant, his silence became less angry and more … Logan. The street lights, more and more infrequent, flashed through the darkened windows to illuminate his face.
There was no question he would be strong. Given his line, his position among Council, Logan would no doubt be as talented as any when it came to using his sway. He could have anything. It was so easy for them to take advantage, when a simple handshake and a smile, a brief word, could cause someone to do whatever they liked. To give whatever they wanted. I’d seen it among the ranks at Division. I’d seen the way Brendan’s select few had lived, the only thing keeping them in check Council and Morgan’s own designs on power and gain.
Morgan hadn’t settled on money, though. He’d wanted control. Not political power, but ultimate control. Reign. A return to the day they’d ruled as kings. As gods.
But the man beside me had no interest in any of that. He’d left his position at Council to save his people. He’d chosen to help me.
He’d chosen this.
“That’s very distracting,” Logan said, not taking his eyes off the road.
“What?” I asked.
“You.” His gaze met mine. “Staring at me.”
“Oh.” I didn’t look away.
The corner of his lips twitched.