Sealed inside the towering city walls of Acadia, magic users known as Wielders are feared and hunted for the abilities they have been blessed with. They're living in hiding, terrified of revealing themselves to the Authorities that hunt them.
But w...
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"One person's craziness is another person's reality."
-Tim Burton
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"I don't trust him," Marina whispered to Colson as they walked. She kept her eyes fixed on the Wielder leading the way in front of them.
They'd traveled through the warehouse district and were heading towards the low-income district on the outer edge of the city, where the buildings didn't shine as bright, where the people didn't smile as much.
"I know you don't want to trust him," Colson sympathized. "But you kind of have to."
"I don't have to do anything," Marina corrected. His arm brushed hers, and she pulled away.
"You know for someone who controls ice, you can't ever keep your cool."
"Shut up." Marina shoved his shoulder. She quieted her voice. "No really, I know absolutely nothing about Ronan, why should I trust him?"
"If you can't trust him, can you at least trust me?" He gazed at her expectantly, like it was an easy answer.
But it wasn't. Why didn't he stay after their parents had died? Why didn't he come for her after Ryder was captured? She wanted to ask him. She wanted to be inside his head for just a small moment and find out the answers to the questions that had been plaguing her.
Marina didn't answer his question and he didn't press it further. She could feel his disappointment as he looked away from her, focusing ahead on Ronan instead. She resisted the urge to grab his chin and force him to look at her. What would be the point anyway? She wasn't going to demand any explanations from him and she wasn't about to tell him how deep down, under the icy layer she guarded her heart with, she truly cared about him.
Marina shook her head, clearing her thoughts. Deciding to distract herself with analyzing Ronan, she quickened her steps to catch up with him.
"Marina," Colson's voice rang out behind her, but he didn't stop her determination.
Ronan was three heads taller than her, close to being a damn giant. His hair was shaved close to his scalp, leaving nothing but dark stubble. What he lacked on his head, he made up for with the beard that Marina wondered if he combed—it hung down to the top of his chest in a tangled mess.
