Page 15 of Fractured Fates

“Rhi.”

“Full name?”

I glare at him.

“Rhianna Blackwaters,” the man in black says. I’m not surprised he knows. “Name mean anything to you?”

“No,” the other man answers, “you?”

The man in black shakes his head.

“What are yours?” I ask, jerking my chin towards the two men as I chew.

“You can call me Stone.”

I nod and peer at the man in black. He glares at me but doesn’t speak. Guess he’s not disclosing his name.

“Best you call him Sir.” Stone chuckles. I roll my eyes. No fucking way. “Why were you hiding out there in Shitsville, Rhianna?” Stone leans forward in his seat. His roll is untouched.

Am I being interrogated? I shift on my seat but don’t pause my eating.

“I wasn’t hiding out.”

The man in black snorts. “Your aunt was clearly keeping you hidden. Why?”

“Some people like the quiet life. Not everyone wants to live in the big city.”

Stone examines my face. “Somepeopledo. Most magicals live in the city and very few indeed fail to have the children in their care registered. In fact, it’s virtually unheard of.” He pauses, letting me digest this piece of information. “Why aren’t you registered? You do know it’s a criminal offense.”

“So they are going to lock me up?” I scowl at the man in black. He lied to me. Why am I surprised?

“Like I said, they are likely to send you to the academy.”

“Likely?”

“You should consider yourself lucky,” Stone says sternly. “All magicals are required to be registered.”

I stare at him. “Why?” I know the official answer. But I want to hear what he has to say.

“We could be attacked at any time. At any time from forces in the West. All magicals are required to come forward to be registered and trained. Our nation depends on each generation of magicals to keep us safe.”

“There hasn’t been an attack from the West in over half a century.”

“Because our magical forces are a deterrent. If every magical chose to dodge their responsibilities …” Anger flashes in his eyes and he trails off.

“My aunt was keeping me safe,” I say, sawing my toast in half a little aggressively.

“From whom?”

“People like you I imagine.”

“Us? We’re the good guys, Sweetheart.”

I lower my knife and fork and twerk an eyebrow. “You really look like it.”

Stone looks down at his clothes and then at the man in black with his thick cloak the color of coal.

“What did she tell you? Your aunt?” the man in black asks.